the reluctant prince of rebirth

The room was silent, save for the rhythmic ticking of the clock. A man in his late twenties sat in the corner of a dimly lit apartment. Papers, books, and empty coffee cups were scattered across a desk that had seen too many sleepless nights. His name was Alex Carter, a prodigy once heralded as the "Golden Mind of a Generation." The title, though impressive, was a weight he could no longer bear.

Alex sighed and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling as if it held answers to the questions he couldn't bring himself to ask. His brilliant mind, the same one that solved complex equations in minutes and devised strategies that left competitors in awe, was plagued with thoughts he couldn't outthink: Why am I here? What's the point of it all?

To the world, Alex was a success story. By 18, he had graduated from one of the top universities with honors. By 23, he was consulting for billion-dollar corporations. But none of it mattered. His so-called "friends" only stuck around to bask in his brilliance. His family saw him as nothing more than a walking investment—a tool for their ambitions. There wasn't a single person in his life who valued him for who he was.

He rubbed his temples and stared at his laptop screen. A job offer. Another prestigious position with a salary that could make anyone envious. But the sight of it filled him with nothing but dread.

"I'm tired," he whispered to himself. Tired of the endless cycle of expectations. Tired of being a tool. Tired of living.

By the time the sun rose the next morning, Alex Carter was gone. He had left no note, no explanation, only silence to echo the emptiness that consumed him.

Alex's consciousness faded, but he wasn't met with darkness or eternal peace. Instead, he felt... something. A strange warmth, like sunlight filtering through curtains. He tried to open his eyes, but everything felt wrong. His limbs were shorter, his body lighter.

His vision blurred as he adjusted to his surroundings. He was lying in a grand bed, the kind you'd expect in some medieval castle. The room around him was ornate, with gilded furniture and a large window that overlooked a sprawling courtyard. A woman in a maid's uniform sat at his bedside, her face a mix of concern and relief.

"Oh, thank goodness you're awake, young master!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling.

Young master? Alex thought, blinking in confusion. His voice cracked as he tried to speak. "W-What... where am I?"

The woman looked startled, then her expression softened. "You're in your room, Prince Rein. You've been running a fever for two days. We were all so worried."

Prince Rein? Alex sat up abruptly, his heart racing. He caught sight of his hands—small, delicate hands that clearly didn't belong to a grown man. A mirror across the room confirmed the impossible truth: he was a child. A boy with messy blond hair and striking blue eyes stared back at him.

"What... the... hell?" he muttered, his voice high-pitched and unfamiliar.

"You shouldn't strain yourself, Your Highness," the maid said gently, pressing him back down onto the bed. "Your body is still recovering."

Alex—or rather, Rein—was too stunned to resist. He lay back, his mind reeling. The last thing he remembered was— I died. His heart sank as the memory returned in vivid detail. The pills, the suffocating silence, the overwhelming despair. Yet here he was, alive... or something close to it.

The maid continued to fuss over him, adjusting his blankets and placing a damp cloth on his forehead. "Your father will be pleased to hear you're feeling better," she said with a soft smile.

"Wait," Rein said, holding up a hand. "My father?"

"The king, of course," she replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

King? Rein's head was spinning. He needed answers, but the maid was already moving toward the door. "I'll inform His Majesty immediately."

Before Rein could protest, she was gone, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

The next hour was a blur of new faces and unfamiliar voices. Servants flitted in and out of the room, bowing and addressing him as "Your Highness." Each interaction only deepened Rein's confusion. He pieced together snippets of information, enough to understand the basics: He was the eighth prince of a kingdom called Aldareth, born to a king and a maid after a one-night stand.

By the time the king himself entered the room, Rein was already beginning to suspect that this wasn't some elaborate dream. The man who strode in was tall and imposing, with graying hair and a regal presence. But his eyes, bloodshot and slightly unfocused, betrayed the reality of his character.

"Ah, my boy!" the king boomed, spreading his arms wide. "You're awake! I was worried about you."

Rein studied the man carefully. His father, the king, didn't seem like the wise and noble ruler of a thriving kingdom. Instead, he came across as a man weighed down by years of indulgence and mismanagement.

"Father," Rein said cautiously, testing the word.

The king chuckled and patted him on the head. "No need for formality, lad! Rest up and get better. That's all I ask."

Rein nodded mutely, unsure of how to respond. The king's visit was brief, and as soon as he left, Rein exhaled deeply. He had so many questions, but the answers would have to wait.

Later that night, when the palace was quiet and the chaos of the day had settled, Rein sat by the window, staring at the moonlit courtyard.

So... this is my new life. The realization was both exhilarating and terrifying. He had no idea why or how he had been reincarnated, but one thing was clear: this wasn't Earth, and he wasn't Alex Carter anymore.

As the cool night air brushed against his face, Rein allowed himself a small, bittersweet smile. For the first time in years, he felt something other than emptiness. He didn't know what this new world held, but he was determined to make the most of it.

After all, he thought wryly, how bad could being a prince really be?

Little did he know, the answer to that question was far more complicated—and dangerous—than he could have ever imagined.