My Beautiful Goddess wives

A sharp, cold breeze swept through the dimly lit room as Alex's eyes fluttered open. His senses were hazy, the remnants of a dreamless sleep fading into the recesses of his mind. The first thing he noticed was the bed beneath him—soft, far softer than anything he had ever slept on. The fabric of the sheets felt luxurious, almost unreal, like a delicate silk woven to perfection. The faint scent of lavender filled the air, calming yet unfamiliar.

He blinked several times, his vision adjusting to the dim glow of sunlight streaming through the ornate, gold-embroidered curtains. His head throbbed slightly as he tried to piece together his last memory. The room around him seemed ancient yet pristine—a stark contrast to anything he knew. The bedposts were carved intricately, resembling vines that twisted and coiled into patterns of flowers and thorns. The walls were painted in deep shades of crimson, accented by golden chandeliers that sparkled even in the faint light. Everything screamed luxury, a world far removed from his own.

"Where… am I?" he whispered. The moment the words left his lips, his eyes widened. The voice that had spoken wasn't his. It was deeper, smoother, and carried a commanding presence that sent a shiver down his spine. Panic settled in as he clutched his throat. What is happening?

Before he could fully process the situation, a faint creak drew his attention to the door. It opened slowly, and Alex instinctively turned his gaze toward it. A woman stepped in, her figure framed by the doorway. She appeared to be in her early thirties, with short, jet-black hair neatly styled. She wore a maid's uniform, the fabric crisp and spotless, tailored perfectly to her slender frame.

Her eyes locked onto Alex, and she froze. Her expression shifted from confusion to shock, her lips parting slightly as if to speak but no words came. Then, she finally managed to stammer, "Y-Young Master… you're awake."

Her voice trembled, but there was a mix of relief and disbelief in her tone. She stepped forward hesitantly, her hands clutching the edges of her apron as if trying to steady herself.

"Please, young master," she said quickly, her voice rising with urgency, "you must lay down. Your body is still weak. I—I must inform Madam immediately!"

Before Alex could utter a single word, the woman turned on her heel and left the room in a hurry, the sound of her footsteps fading down the corridor.

He was left in silence, his heart pounding. His mind raced with questions. Young master? Madam? Who was that woman? Nothing made sense.

His gaze drifted around the room again, taking in every detail—the opulent furniture, the gilded mirror hanging on the far wall, and the tall, arched windows partially hidden behind heavy curtains. Then, his eyes landed on a large standing mirror not too far from the bed.

Driven by an inexplicable urge, Alex attempted to move, but his body protested. A sharp ache radiated through his limbs, and he realized how frail he felt. His muscles felt foreign, as if they weren't his own. Ignoring the pain, he planted his hands on the mattress, using it for support, and slowly swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The cold floor sent a chill up his spine as his bare feet made contact.

With great effort, he stood, his knees wobbling beneath him. He leaned heavily on the bedpost for balance, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. Step by painstaking step, he made his way toward the mirror.

When he finally reached it, he stared at his reflection—and froze.

The man staring back at him wasn't Alex.

The reflection was of someone entirely different. The man had sharp, angular features, his jawline chiseled to perfection. His hair was as dark as the midnight sky, thick and slightly tousled, falling just above his piercing black eyes. The irises seemed to shimmer with an almost otherworldly depth, as if galaxies swirled within them.

But it wasn't just his face that startled Alex—it was the rest of his body. The man in the mirror was tall, but his frame was gaunt, almost skeletal. His cheeks were hollow, his collarbones jutting out prominently beneath his pale skin. He looked fragile, as if a single gust of wind could knock him over.

Alex's hand instinctively reached up to touch his face, and the reflection mirrored the movement. A cold dread settled in his chest. "This… this isn't my body," he whispered, his voice trembling.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps—hurried and deliberate—approaching from outside the room. A voice called out, filled with urgency and emotion.

"Son!"

The door burst open, and a woman entered. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties, but her beauty was striking, almost ethereal. Her features were soft yet regal, her skin flawless. Her hair was the same dark color as his, cascading in elegant waves down her back. Her eyes, brimming with tears, were a mirror of his own—deep and enigmatic.

The moment she saw him, her composure broke. She rushed toward him, her arms outstretched. "My son," she cried, wrapping him in a tight embrace. Her warmth was overwhelming, her sobs muffled as she buried her face in his shoulder.

Alex stood frozen, unsure of how to react. The woman's embrace was filled with such genuine love and desperation that it left him speechless.

"You're awake," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I thought… I thought I'd lost you forever."

She pulled back slightly, her hands cupping his face as she studied him intently. Tears streaked down her cheeks, but her smile was radiant. "You've been asleep for so long," she said. "I prayed every day for this moment."

Alex stared at her, his mind a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief. He wanted to say something, to ask who she was, but the words caught in his throat.

"Rest, my dear," the woman said softly, brushing his hair back with a tender touch. "You've been through so much. I'll call for the physician immediately."

Before he could protest, she turned to the maid, who had followed her into the room. "Prepare some broth for him," she instructed. "And inform the household. Let everyone know that my son has returned to us."

The maid nodded quickly, her eyes glistening with tears of her own, and hurried out of the room.

As the woman turned her attention back to Alex, her expression softened. "You're safe now," she whispered. "Everything will be fine."

Alex's thoughts raced. What is going on? Who am I supposed to be?

As the woman helped him back toward the bed, Alex knew one thing for certain: his life, whatever it had been before, would never be the same again.