Hours passed before Alen finally regained consciousness. His mind, now flooded with every memory of this body, allowed him to understand the world with far greater clarity. Everything felt… easier to grasp.
Slowly, he sat up, but his legs shook violently beneath him. His body was weak—frail from a year of illness that had once claimed the life of the original Alen. Every muscle protested, every movement a struggle. Pain and stiffness ran through him like fire, but determination pushed him forward.
After a few painstaking minutes, he managed to stand. Step by step, he reached a mirror in the room. His reflection made him pause.
Silver hair framed a pale, youthful face. Eyes a deep, mesmerizing purple, wide and curious. The features were striking, almost impossibly handsome—but with the soft innocence of a nine-year-old child. Alen's lips parted slightly as he took in the image, realizing that though he was young now, as he grew, there would be no doubt he would become a most handsome man.
He walked to the window, gazing at the night sky. Stars shimmered like scattered jewels across the heavens, the world outside beautiful in a way that stirred something deep in him.
Suddenly, the sound of the door opening echoed through the room. Alen turned his head as a young woman entered. She appeared to be in her twenties, dressed in a neat maid uniform. Black hair cascaded down her back, her eyes dark and penetrating. Big breast, A slender waist, juicy ass, long legs, and an impossibly beautiful face made Alen freeze mid-step.
He had never seen such a woman before—not in his past life. Never had he been this close to beauty of this magnitude, still untouched and pure in his former twenty-five-year-old body.
The woman's gaze fell upon him as he stood near the window. Her eyes widened, her lips parting as a sharp gasp escaped her. She stumbled back instinctively, startled by something she could not comprehend, and hurried out of the room.
Alen remained frozen, stunned and confused. He whispered to himself, his voice barely audible, "What… just happened?" why did she ran away?
A short while later, the maid returned—but this time she was not alone. Behind her, another woman entered the room.
The moment the second woman stepped in, the air seemed to chill slightly, as if her very presence absorbed warmth. Her body exuded an aura of authority and composure; her face carried a cold, almost untouchable expression. But when her gaze fell upon Alen, something shifted—her lips curved into a delicate, gentle smile, like a frost-covered flower blooming for the first time.
Alen froze. Shock rooted him to the spot. He could not comprehend how anyone could be this beautiful.
Silver hair framed her mature, striking features, and her deep purple eyes mirrored his own. She appeared to be in her thirties—mature, elegant, pink lips, big breasts, with a slender waist, big ass, long legs, and robes of white and pale blue that shimmered like ethereal silk. A pure milf and she was the definition of beauty and sinful body.her big breasts and perkey juicy big ass seemed to ready her tight clothes.
Alen's eyes widened, and his mouth parted slightly, breath catching. He could feel himself trembling as he took in her presence.
The woman stepped closer.she closed the distance, her voice soft yet trembling with emotion:
"Oh, my Alen… you are finally conscious. You've been unconscious for a year… and now… you're finally awake."
Alen's heart skipped a beat. Recognition dawned slowly, and his mind reeled. This woman… he knew her. This was Selara Dravenhart—his mother known as cold, ruthless, and untouchable in the world outside.
Yet now… she wept, tears sliding silently down her cheeks, her body trembling as she held him close.
If anyone else were to witness this scene, they would never believe it. Selara Dravenhart, the woman known for her icy composure and unyielding ruthlessness, had revealed a side no one outside this room had ever seen.
Alen remained frozen, stunned, caught between shock and awe, his young mind struggling to process the overwhelming warmth and vulnerability radiating from the woman.
When Selara pulled him into her embrace, Alen froze for a brief moment—then slowly relaxed.
Warmth enveloped him.
It was not power. Not cultivation. Not the cold clarity he had relied on in his previous life.
It was something far more overwhelming.
Motherly warmth.
Alen's chest tightened, and before he could stop it, his vision blurred. His eyes turned wet. In the previously life he had been an orphan.In that life, he had grown up alone. No mother's embrace. No gentle voice. No warmth to return to after battle and bloodshed. Strength had been his only companion, survival his only purpose.
"This…" he thought quietly, his small fingers curling against her robes, "…this is what it feels like to be held by a mother."
For the first time in both his lives, he did not feel alone.
In that moment, deep within his heart, Alen made the most important decision of his existence.
A vow.
I will protect her.
I will protect this family.
No matter the cost.
Even if I must walk to the edge of the world… even if I must become strong enough to defy fate itself… I will never allow this warmth to be taken from me.
If it was for this embrace—
he would do anything.
Coming back to his senses, Alen gently raised his trembling hands and returned the hug, carefully patting Selara's back. His voice was soft, steady, and sincere.
"Mom… don't worry. I'm fine now. Completely fine."
He hesitated, then added honestly, "I just… feel a little weak."
Selara slowly released him, her hands lingering on his shoulders as if afraid he might disappear again. Her eyes were red, tears still clinging stubbornly to her lashes.
"You will recover," she said gently. "I promise. You'll be perfectly fine."
But behind her reassurance lay a year of silent suffering.
Since the day Alen had fallen unconscious, everything had changed.
Her husband—Alen's father—was dead. According to the reports, he had been killed in an ambush. By whom, no one knew. The truth remained buried in shadows.
And every single day for the past year, Selara had stood by her son's bedside, watching him sleep without response, without movement. Each breath he took had felt like a blade cutting into her heart. Each night had been a descent into hell.
This year had nearly broken her.
Seeing her like this, Alen's heart ached.
Even though this body had not originally been his… even though his soul came from another world… the warmth he felt was real.
And so was her love.
From this moment onward, Selara Dravenhart was no longer just the mother of the body he occupied.
She was his mother.
This family was his family.
And from now on, Alen would live for them—and for their happiness.