Chapter 2: Tristan Moonstone

Leylla couldn't help but chuckle at her brother's words, "Brother, it was your stomach that got stabbed, not your head. Please don't joke with me. I'm not in the mood for jokes..." She said, wiping away the tears that were now flowing. She was overjoyed that her brother had finally returned to them alive.

Hearing the little girl's voice brought everything back to Tristan's mind like video clips: shooting a demon, being stabbed by a horn, and the voice of Lieutenant Derek. Suddenly, something else crept into his mind. A face that was different but looked almost like his face.

The face was saying its name, and then several more faces appeared, each saying its name, including Leylla's. Then, the images turned into an unfamiliar place, very different from New York or any other place on earth he had ever been.

Slowly, Tristan opened his eyes again. Now he pushed his eyes to open wider. The bright room hurt his eyes, but he was determined to stay awake. The pain subsided as his eyes adjusted to the room's brightness.

However, he felt weak in his legs, and his head spun from everything that came up in his mind. Tristan held his stomach, feeling a sharp pain, but it was not as painful as when that thing's horn had stabbed him.

Suddenly, his dizziness subsided. Everything that crept into his mind disappeared.

Leylla continued to hold Tristan's hand, gently squeezing it while stroking his hair.

"B-Brother Tristan, are you alright?" Leylla asked, her voice filled with worry.

"L-Leylla... Lil Sister..." Tristan said softly, trying to gather more information from the girl who claimed to be his little sister. "What... What happened to me? I... I don't remember anything!" Tristan's gaze locked with her captivating golden eyes, leaving him momentarily breathless. Never before had he encountered such a mesmerizing hue.

"Oh dear, Brother. Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure you don't remember anything?" Leylla asked, now looking deeply concerned.

With the last ounce of his strength, Tristan squeezed Leylla's hand back, "Yes, Leylla. I only recall my name. Tristan, and that's all..." he said, locking his gaze with Leylla's.

"Oh my, perhaps it's because of that poison? Brother, I believe the poison from Drakkarus's horn has affected your memories," Leylla replied, her worry growing more intense.

Tristan frowned.

"But hey, if that's the case, then it's not so bad. Anyone stabbed and poisoned by Drakkarus's horn falls into a coma and never wakes up. But not you. You survived. You woke up, brother," Leylla said with a smile, her determination shining through.

"Wait, what?" Tristan exclaimed, his expression filled with confusion.

Leylla giggled. "Don't worry, my dear brother. We will help you regain your memories. When Uncle Alexander arrives, he will assist you," Leylla said nonchalantly.

"Now you mention a name that I have no recollection of. You're really not helping, lil sis," Tristan said, his brow furrowing.

"Hahaha..." Leylla couldn't contain her laughter. She continued, "Oh brother, you may have forgotten almost everything, but your famous sense of humor remains intact."

"Oh my god, are you suggesting I'm a comedian? How cruel!" Tristan retorted, pretending to look sullen.

"Oh, you wish, brother. You're funny, but not THAT funny."

Upon hearing his little sister's words, Tristan furrowed his brow again and said, "Okay, NOW that's insulting," before bursting into laughter. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his stomach. "Ouch! It hurts like hell when I laugh!" Tristan exclaimed, wincing.

Leylla continued to laugh, thoroughly entertained by Tristan's clownish behavior. After a moment of joy, she said, "Alright, I have to inform Mom and Dad that you've woken up. And somehow become even sillier!" Leylla teased her brother.

"Sillier? Now I'm truly saddened," Tristan replied, pretending to look dramatically crestfallen. Leylla laughed and playfully smacked his arm.

"Ouch, hey!" Tristan yelped.

"Oops! Sorry, brother," Leylla said, sticking out her tongue and mockingly imitating Tristan.

"Alright, now get out of here and let everyone know I'm awake. I can't wait to be showered with congratulations," Tristan said jokingly.

Leylla felt overjoyed by her brother's sense of humor and playfulness. Laughing, clutching her stomach, she walked toward the door. "Okay, I'll be right back!" she exclaimed, closing the door behind her.

As Leylla exited the room, leaving Tristan alone, a wave of dizziness washed over him once again. The same images began to creep into his mind, accompanied by whispered names, including that of the young man who bore a striking resemblance to him. Now, their voices resonated clearly within his consciousness.

After some time...

Refusing to be overwhelmed by the influx of thoughts, Tristan mustered his strength and forced himself to rise from the bed. To his surprise, he found himself able to stand quickly, despite lingering pain.

As he stood, he took notice of his attire—smooth, white satin pajamas and pants. The fabric felt incredibly soft and gentle against his skin. Slowly, he began to explore his surroundings, pacing around the room.

He paused before a wall adorned with an expansive mirror. The reflection that met his gaze left him utterly shocked, his heart nearly faltering. Yet, with unwavering determination, he managed to remain on his feet.

A smile played on his lips as he admired his own visage, appreciating the handsome countenance he possessed. He gingerly touched his smooth, unblemished face and ran his fingers through his tousled, dark brown hair, which lent him an endearing, disheveled appearance. However, it was his eyes that captivated him the most. Unlike his previous blue eyes, this incarnation of Tristan possessed mesmerizing, godlike golden eyes.

"So, I am him..." Tristan whispered softly to himself. "I am Tristan Moonstone," he continued, his voice hushed, as if sharing a secret with the universe.

Recalling the whispers of the images that had inhabited his mind, he now understood—his name was Tristan Moonstone.

After grappling with this newfound knowledge, he compelled himself to move forward once more, this time towards the expansive open window.

Leaning against the railing, he beheld a breathtaking view of the palace, adorned with majestic towers. His room was situated within one of these towers. His gaze was then drawn to a sprawling garden that resembled a mystical forest, with a magnificent snowy mountain looming in the distance.

The air carried a refreshing coolness, and each breath he took was filled with the fragrant essence of flowers. It reminded him of the stark contrast to the air he had breathed in New York, tainted by the acrid stench of vomit and urine.

Tristan inhaled deeply, savoring the crispness of the fresh air, allowing it to wash away any lingering thoughts. With each breath, a newfound vigor surged within him, and the pain he had previously experienced completely subsided.

The cool breeze from the snowy mountain caressed his skin, revitalizing him further.

"Tristan, this is your second chance at life! From this moment on, you will inhabit the bodies of these individuals. Tristan Moonstone, I shall fulfill your aspiration to become a better and stronger person!" He spoke to himself, overwhelmed by a cascade of emotions—happiness, awe, and gratitude that he had been sent to this foreign realm, where monsters, demons, and formidable humans coexisted.

...

A minute later, the sound of footsteps reached his ears—multiple sets of footsteps, drawing nearer to his room.

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