The 14th Prince's Sage

Chapter 1

January 8, 12134, 12:15 AM.

The evening had progressed significantly when the sky unexpectedly tore apart. One might anticipate fear in response to such a phenomenon, yet it was strikingly beautiful, evoking the image of an angel descending from the celestial realm.

In an instant, a green meteorite plummeted from the rift in the sky.

“A new one has come at last…”

Commented a man in his office, gazing out the window at the remarkable spectacle.

“Your Imperial Highness!”

Cried two individuals as they rushed through the door, visibly taken aback.

“What is the matter?”

The prince asked, his eyes remaining focused on the scene before him.

“The sky… it has opened up!”

“I am aware.”

He replied with composure as he put on his overcoat.

The prince looked at his servant and gave a subtle nod, conveying his instructions without words.

As the illumination outside the window gradually faded, the prince murmured,

“Let us proceed.”

On the opposite side of the globe, a man stood watch beside a chair. The two people in the room observed as a green meteor raced downward at high speed.

“Leave.”

“Understood.”

The man nodded and quickly left the space.

This left one person alone in the room, tapping their fingers on the armrest, puzzled by the unforeseen events.

“Could there have been a mistake in the calculations?”

***

A profound void envelops me, accompanied by a sense of emptiness. I find it difficult to recollect the events that transpired, yet my body feels as though it is floating.

Abruptly, an unusual sensation washed over me, reminiscent of swimming in the ocean, yet devoid of any sensation of wetness. I am grappling with the fragments of my memory. It is not a complete inability to remember, rather, my thoughts are obscured and unclear.

Am I in a state of coma?

The last memory I possess is of being in a hospital, with my mother at my side. However, the present circumstances do not align with that recollection.

I should not be aware of my surroundings, as I am supposed to be dead.

I was in the process of dying.

This was the cause of his initial hospitalization. The medical team had already given him a prognosis, and his body was starting to deteriorate. Survival in such conditions appeared unlikely.

“*** *** ***?”

He noticed the sound of someone talking.

A sense of curiosity sparked within him about what they were discussing.

Even though he felt confused, he stayed attuned to the noises around him. This was not an unusual situation for him as this had happened often during his time in the hospital.

Instead of being annoyed by the clamor or scared by his inability to understand, he took solace in the sounds, as they offered him a sense of companionship during this strange experience he was going through.

Moreover, one might wonder… is it common for the deceased to hear sounds? The answer remains unclear. After all, the dead cannot communicate and are unable to share their stories with the living.

“*** ***.”

He was curious about their conversation, hoping to find a hint about what happened to him. Yet, he remained stuck in a foggy state.

Time moved on.

He couldn't tell if it was day or night, but he knew the time was still passing, especially when he heard the voices. He figured they came to see him at least once a week.

Usually, he wouldn't care about counting the days, but this time was different. He had to keep himself occupied, or he might lose himself in the darkness.

Besides recalling the day and thinking about happier moments, he noticed changes in his body. He wasn't sure what it was, but it was definitely happening. Perhaps he is at the point of getting ready to be reborn?

He was never very religious, unlike his devoted mother, but the idea of reincarnation still feels strange to him.

Time kept moving, and he stopped counting the days. It feels like he is stuck here forever, so counting seems pointless. It only brings him hope, which is why he stopped.

Was I a bad person?

He began to wonder if he was, as this felt like nothing but suffering. Being stuck in the unknown for what seemed like forever, unable to find peace, and always awake.

And then suddenly…

“…saw… …finger twitched.”

Huh?

“It's… … …might wake… soon.”

He is hearing the voices much clearer now.

Despite the fact that their speech appeared to be in an unfamiliar tongue, he found himself able to understand their words for some inexplicable reason.

His moment of joy was fleeting, however. After what felt like an endless period of wakefulness, he realized he was on the verge of losing consciousness.

Bad timing, damn it!

It was his final thought before darkness engulfed him.

The man opened slowly his eyes.

His mind was briefly clouded, preventing him from hearing any sounds. He had several episodes of losing consciousness, and it took him a significant amount of time to regain his alertness.

He blinked repeatedly as his sight gradually cleared.

Once he could see clearly, he noticed an intricately designed ceiling above him, unlike anything he had ever seen. This was the first sign that something was not right. The second hint was the large windows that filled the room with bright light, a new experience for him since he was used to plain white ceilings and smaller windows.

What truly convinced him he was in a different place, not his home country, was the view outside. He could see the landscape from his big window clearly, even while lying down. The scene outside looked like a palace garden, and the people were dressed in old-fashioned clothes, busy with their activities.

‘Where the hell am I?’

He thought.

He was shocked at first, unable to take it all in. It felt like a dream, almost too strange to be real.

Looking more closely, it seemed the view wasn't just a screen on the windows. This didn't feel like a joke. If it was, it had gone way too far.

Fortunately, he managed to collect himself and sat down. His arms and legs felt weak, a sign that he had been in bed for a long time.

‘So that really wasn't a dream…’

He was thinking about the odd place where he had been stuck for a long time. He hoped he would never return there.

‘Anyway, I'm alive.’

…Why is he alive?

His unusual illness had reached stage four, leaving no chance for survival. The chances of living with this disease are very slim. What makes him different from others who died of the same disease?

It's not that he wants to die, it is merely a matter of curiosity.

Besides a mild headache and some weakness in his arms and legs, he feels okay. All his other symptoms are gone. After he died, was he brought here to be a test subject, yet somehow lived? That seems troubling…

At that moment, he noticed something strange. It slipped past his shoulders and fell into his lap.

Was it white? It looked more silver-white than just white.

He touched the soft silver-white strands.

‘…My hair is white now…’

And it's really long. His hair used to be brown and short. When did it change like this?

Hold on.

He instinctively raised his right hand, the only one he could move at the moment, to touch his face.

Did his face change too? He felt around but saw no differences.

Unfortunately, there was no mirror in the room, and the bright sunlight made it difficult to see himself. The only relief was the water beside his bed - it was cool and refreshing.

‘It's large.’

The room was as large as his bedroom at home. It was completely furnished, but the furniture was oversized and overly detailed. Still, unlike his all-white hospital room, this space felt cramped.

‘Well, it fits the view outside.’

He really was in a palace.

Click.

His head turned quickly to the door. Someone was opening it. Should he hide? He felt so weak that his body shook whenever he moved. He wasn't sure he could get out of bed like this.

Should he act like he was asleep? But it was clear someone had moved the glass of water on the bedside table.

It was pointless therefore he resigned himself and waited for the person to enter.

The first person was a woman with short brown hair and a charming face. She looked to be in her mid-20s, exuding a youthful energy that was both inviting and reassuring.

The old-fashioned doctor's coat she wore, slightly oversized and frayed at the edges, gave her an air of nostalgia, as if she had stepped out of a different era.

The second person was a strikingly good-looking man, his long hair loosely tied to the side in a casual yet deliberate manner. The black and silver uniform he wore hugged his athletic frame, accentuating his broad shoulders and lean physique.

What truly drew the eye, however, was the noticeable emerald brooch pinned to his chest, glinting like a jewel against the dark fabric. He seemed like a soldier, but there was an air of mystery about him that set him apart from the typical military archetype—perhaps it was the way he carried himself, with a blend of confidence and ease that suggested he was comfortable in his own skin.

What really caught his attention was the man's height. The doctor was much shorter, while the man stood around 185cm tall. He felt a bit envious.

The two were engaged in a lively conversation but as soon as they noticed he was awake, their chatter came to an abrupt halt. The woman’s eyes widened in surprise, and the man turned his head sharply, his expression shifting from casual ease to focused attention.

The atmosphere in the room changed instantly.

He remained silent as the three of them exchanged glances.

“Those eyes…”

The doctor murmured, looking bewildered.

Oddly, they were speaking different languages, yet he understood them perfectly.

He finally spoke after a while.

“Wha, what… eyes…?”

His throat was still dry, but he managed to speak clearly.

Luckily, they appear to grasp his words even though they are not using his native language.

“You are awake.”

The man said this instead. Unlike the woman, his eyes only widened for a brief moment before composing himself.

Click.

The door shut as the two approached him. Out of respect, the strangers kept a few meters of distance.

“How are you feeling?”

The doctor finally came back to reality and softly inquired about his condition. She was watching his body for any signs of issues as she spoke.

He attempted to sense his whole body. It felt numb, but there was no pain. It was a strange sensation as if he were floating just above himself, disconnected yet aware. He wiggled his fingers, then his toes, trying to summon some feeling, some sign of life. But the numbness persisted, wrapping around him like a heavy blanket.

“I… I’m tired—”

Cough! Cough!

The sound erupted from his throat, unexpected and harsh, sending a jolt of discomfort through his chest.

The doctor, a woman with kind eyes and a steady demeanor, quickly filled a glass with water from a pitcher on the bedside table. She approached him with a sense of urgency, her movements fluid and practiced.

“Here, drink this.”

She urged, holding the glass to his lips. He took it gratefully, the cool liquid soothing his dry throat as he gulped it down in one go.

After that, he had two more glasses, each one refreshing and revitalizing, washing away the parched feeling that had settled in his mouth. He set the glass down with a soft clink, feeling a bit more grounded, a bit more present.

“Thank… you…”

He said, his voice still shaky but stronger now.

As he looked around the room, he noticed the two people who appeared to be waiting for him to say something first. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken words, a tension that hung in the air like a storm cloud.

The doctor kept glancing between him and the papers in her hands, her brow furrowed in concentration. It was clear she was weighing her words carefully as if the information she held could tip the balance of the moment. He could see the concern etched on her face, the way her lips pressed together as she considered how to proceed.

Meanwhile, the man stood silently in the back, watching him with an intensity that made him feel exposed.

The silence stretched on, heavy and palpable, as if the very walls were holding their breath, waiting for him to break the stillness. He could feel their eyes on him, the weight of their expectations pressing down.

He chose to be the first to talk.

“…Where… …am I?”

Had he been moved from the hospital to this place? Was he now part of an experiment? He couldn't feel the effect of his disease anymore. Also, his hair had grown a lot and turned silver-white.

“Ah.”

The doctor glanced up and smiled.

“You don't recall how you arrived here?”

How did he end up here? He had been on the brink of death the last time he was conscious.

‘Are you saying I sleepwalk?’

That's not how it works.

Perhaps they have a hidden reason for hiding the fact that they were the ones who took him for the experiment.

He didn't notice any cameras in the room, but they could be concealed.

“Just… Please answer me…”

The two exchanged glances before the doctor gave a nod. She placed her clipboard down and sat in the chair beside his bed. He hadn’t realized it was there the whole time.

When he was out cold, lost in the depths of unconsciousness, were they the ones he sensed talking and coming to see him each week? He wasn’t sure.

“We are currently staying in one of the rooms graciously lent to us by His Imperial Highness, the 14th Prince, in his palace.”

“Pardon?”

Imperial Prince? Palace? What?

That's strange. The last time he checked, there was no royalty alive in modern days.

The doctor smiled.

“Your reaction is valid. It is quite shocking to step foot on the Imperial Grounds.”

“Ah… yes.”

There seems to be some kind of misunderstanding but he opted not to address it and simply went along with it.

“Why would this… this prince…? Help me, a stranger…?”

The doctor laughed softly.

“The Imperial Prince is kind. He discovered you unconscious in a forest located within the Imperial Grounds and decided to bring you here for medical care. While you didn't seem to have any visible injuries, you are still unresponsive.”

“Ah? Why is a prince in a forest…?”

He didn't mean to say it, it just slipped out because he was confused about what was happening.

The doctor looked at him, puzzled, as if trying to decipher the meaning behind his unexpected question. Her brow furrowed slightly, clearly taken aback by his sudden shift in focus.

“He was hunting. It's His Imperial Highness's hobby.”

She replied.

“Hunting…?”

He had overlooked the fact that hunting was a topic deeply embedded in history, a theme he had come across during his high school studies.

Hold on, history?

‘Am I back in time or what?’

Reincarnation and time travel. When did he start believing in those ideas?

‘Hmm, I think I might be losing it.’