I feel like the world is spinning...
Or, is it my mind playing tricks? I don't know anymore. My head hurts: throbbing with a sharp pain.
"Ugh! Just how much did I drink last night?" I ask myself doubtfully.
It has been a month since I... well, "assumed" the identity of Kyselius Seedrake, the gold-spoon baseborn.
I will be honest: when I had set out towards the keep of House Seedrake the next morning, my heart was hammering against my chest so hard that I feared it might explode.
Fortunately, my one-time talent had done a decent job. Even the head of the house, Orrigal von Seedrake, a retired SSS-rank Warrior, was unable to see through me.
In essence and blood, I am Kyselius Seedrake; his destiny now intertwines with mine. So, it was safe to say that no one would be able to tell the difference.
Well... the gods might, but they have been dead for a long, long time.
However, that doesn't mean I am completely safe.
Any abrupt change in Kyselius' behaviour would draw eyes; attention that I would rather not attract.
Not after what the previous Kyselius had done last year.
Therefore, for the past month, I have been maintaining the persona of Kyselius the Lustful, the infamous title the previous Kyselius earned for his never-ending thirst for beauty and sex.
Last night too was one such act that I performed: a drinking competition with my, or rather Kyselius', old buddies. We chugged on Wyrmish Red—a specialty of Dragondale—until even our blood tasted like wine. (It's not illegal; people in this world are considered adults by the age of 16.)
However, I had to remain vigilant. The previous Kyselius' lifestyle was... very addictive, one wrong decision and I fall into the never-ending loop of whore and wine.
Speaking of whores, Mira is still alive. Turns out, my knife hadn't pierced into her neck deep enough to cause severe blood loss, leading to death; she merely lost consciousness, and after healing her using my Prana, which too, I also devoured from the baseborn, she was safe from any danger.
Talk about luck!
I had considered killing her, but that would appear very suspicious.
Kyselius never killed any beauty, no matter what.
Anyway, I stretch slowly on my silky, fluffy mattress and sit forward. My eyes feel sticky, and as I rest my face on my hands, a sudden voice startles me.
"You're awake, my lord. Good afternoon."
The flat voice came from my right, and I recognized it.
Afternoon? I look at the clock: it's half past 12, a typical hangover morning.
"If it isn't my creepy butler," I sneer as I turn my head to see a middle-aged man dressed in a butler's uniform; his neatly combed crimson hair, clean-shaven face, and impeccable posture scream elegance.
A butler worthy of the Seedrake name: Draziel comes from a minor branch of the Crimson Lineage — the same lineage that I am the direct descendant of — and is an A-rank Warrior who has reached his limit-potential, meaning, he can never breakthrough to S-rank; unlike me, who has the potential to reach SS-rank.
However, I feel no pity for him, for I don't like him.
"My lord, your hangover potion," Draziel says as he takes out a vial filled with green liquid.
I snatch it from his hands and uncrook its mouth before downing it in one go; immediately, I feel refreshed.
"So, for how long have you been standing there? You know it's creepy of you to be watching people sleep. Don't tell me your smickle pickles watching people sleep?" I ask, throwing him a look of disgust.
Draziel, too, reciprocates my sentiment, as he begins in his condescending tone, "I had been sent for you, Lord Kyselius. Lord Orrigal awaits you to join him for breakfast... but that was during the hour of gods, it's the hour of demons now."
See that right there!
That condescending tone, that look he has as if he is better than me, superior to me. Not to mention, his deliberate attempts to cause trouble for me,
That's exactly why I hate him!
"Hour of Gods? Hour of Demon? That's five hours!" I mutter in surprise, turning to Draziel, I continue angrily, "You idiot! Why the hell didn't you wake me up? Now, Grandpa will be upset with me, and it's your fault!"
But Draziel remains unfazed by my outrage as he looks into my eyes with his blazing red, — a trait shared amongst the members of the Crimson Lineage of Seedrakes, just like the lava-like hair — and speaks with calm and indifference, "My lord, perhaps all that whoring have you thinking with what's between your legs... forgetting that thinking is the job of what lies behind your eyes... just like now, has my lord forgotten that he has forbidden me from waking him up in the mornings?"
This bastard! How dare he!
My eyes widen at Draziel's impudent words. I am his lord, yet he dares talk to me like that!?
I clench the sheets, my chest heaving up and down. Every fiber of myself wants to lunge and choke the life out of him, but I hold back; no, I mustn't lash out.
Draziel being stronger than me by several folds is a major part of the reason: I am a mere E-rank Healer, not even a Warrior.
I will only get myself humiliated; that's exactly what this creepy butler wants. I can see it in his eyes: "Come on, attack me!" they seem to scream.
The most infuriating part about it is the possibility of his getting away with it if I do attack him.
Draziel is also a Seedrake, and a legitimate son — unlike me, a baseborn — and despite me having a superior Potential and a direct blood relation with the head of the House, I am but a baseborn; the butler will never be punished for his few remarks against a baseborn, especially when they were very much true.
How do I know? Well, this is what happened with Kyselius in the original story of "Godsfall: Humanity's Last Stand".
No matter how hard the original Kyselius trained or tried to close the gap between him and the other members of the House, especially his brother and father, he was always ridiculed as the lowly born son of a maid, a bastard born of lust.
These things only pushed him further towards women and wine, sourcing his infamous rise as the 'Lustful Dragon of House Seedrake', and finally, turning him into a traitor of humanity whose only goal was to use the chaos to fuck a princess.
The only person who was ever even close to him was his grandfather, Orrigal von Seedrake, but even his hands were tied.
"Patient! I must remain patient!" I mutter under my breath.
"Pradon, Lord Kyselius. Did you say something?" Graziel asks calmly, but I can see provocation gleaming in his eyes.
I clench my jaw and glare at him as if to kill the creepy butler with just looks, before speaking through my gritted teeth, "I said, you should have woken me up and given me the hangover po-"
"You know what! Forget it! Out with you, you bastard!"
I snap. I couldn't hold it, I'm sorry, but that calm, condescending look on his face made my heart burn with fury.
"As you wish, my lord," Draziel relents, bowing before turning to walk towards the door; however, his steps come to a sudden halt as he turns to look at me and speaks, "I almost forgot. Lord Orrigal is still expecting you, he said to come to him when you wake up. Given the time, he will have lunch soon. You will be joining him, I presume?"
"Get out!" I shouted, throwing whatever hands grabbed —it was a pillow — prompting the butler to make his exit.
The door closes, and the sound of footsteps grows shallow; only then do I ease out a sigh of relief. "Finally," I exclaim.
It's hard to keep up with what I privately call the Kyselius Act; fortunately, the memories I devoured help.
It's like watching a movie, the original's memories; I review them from time to time, studying how the baseborn acts in different situations: being mostly annoyed and furious with Draziel.
"I wonder why the old man is looking for me?" I question no one but myself as I get out of bed.
My feet land on the cloud, which is the carpet, plush and cozy; its dragon embroidery a reminder of the legacy I belonged to.
As I make my way towards the bathroom, I am once again reminded of the unbelievable reality that I am a part of now:
Walls covered in exquisite gemstones that paint a beautiful tapestry; marble floors that come with floor heating systems, and a holographic television that speaks of the technological milestones humanity has achieved, and these are just the tip of the iceberg.
I can talk about them all day long, but it still won't be enough to cover even a tenth of how advanced this world of novels is.
As I enter the bathroom, several metallic tentacles shoot towards me, gently stripping me bare.
I show no resistance as I have been through this process many times.
These tentacles are called The Bathacles, tentacles designed to help people clean themselves, quickly, and with an efficiency that human hands can never achieve.
Indeed, these long, clanking hands have a knack for making me feel relaxed, I must admit.
Although they leave me feeling... molested... several times. Especially when the tentacles reach below the torso.
"Reminds me to get rid of them," I mutter as I have several times but never followed through.