The Duke's youngest son is Unbearable

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A New Morning

Asher opened his eyes, blinking as he took in his surroundings. For a moment, he looked confused, his brows furrowing slightly. The ceiling above him was unfamiliar, the bed beneath him softer than what he remembered from Earth. But as reality settled in, he sighed, his body relaxing into the sheets.

"Sigh… this will take some time to get used to." He muttered under his breath.

Still lying in bed, he let his thoughts wander.

"Why am I accepting this so easily?" he questioned himself.

Deep down, he already had an answer. Maybe it was because he had lived as Asher Crimson for the last fifteen years without his memories of Earth. Or perhaps, because this wasn't the first time his world had completely changed.

Moving from Asia to America had been a drastic shift too—his house had changed, his language had changed, the way he dressed, the culture, the environment… everything. At least this time, he didn't look different from those around him. People wouldn't whisper behind his back, give him strange looks, or try to bully him for being different. And if anyone did try, he had a family now—a powerful one. Like Arthur was there for me yesterday…

"Family, huh?" he muttered, his voice hoarse from just waking up.

Knock, knock.

A sharp knocking sound came from the door, pulling Asher out of his thoughts. A calm yet respectful voice followed.

"I'm coming in, young master."

The door creaked open, and a middle-aged woman in a neatly pressed maid's uniform stepped inside. She had graying brown hair tied into a neat bun, sharp yet kind eyes, and a strict posture that radiated discipline.

Asher blinked at her. She blinked back.

A brief silence passed before the woman regained her composure.

"You're already awake, young master."

Asher searched his memories. Clarissa. That was her name.

Recollecting his drifting thoughts, he answered with a simple, "Yeah."

Clarissa, wasting no time, moved toward the window. Pulling back the heavy curtains, she let the cool, dim morning light spill into the room. The sky outside was still a soft shade of gray, the sun barely cresting over the horizon.

Trying to make small talk, she asked, "Did you have a pleasant dream?"

Asher's lips twitched.

"Man, this woman is as awkward as always," he thought with mild amusement.

He offered her a small smile and replied, "Yeah, somewhat."

Throwing the sheets aside, he pushed himself up and stood. His muscles still felt slightly stiff from yesterday's events.

Clarissa, looking astonished, tilted her head slightly. "You're already getting up so early today?"

Stretching his arms above his head, he rolled his shoulders and exhaled.

"Yeah, I had enough rest for now."

Walking toward the door, he reached for the handle.

Clarissa hesitated before calling out, "Should I prepare some early breakfast for you?"

Pausing, Asher glanced over his shoulder and nodded. "Something light would be appreciated."

Clarissa gave a short bow. "Understood, young master."

Leaving the room, Asher made his way to the washroom, which was conveniently located just beside his room. As soon as he stepped inside, a soft white light illuminated the space. His gaze lifted toward the ceiling, where a floating Hasgunel crystal emitted a gentle glow.

"Huh… the technology in this world is really peculiar."

There were no cars, smartphones, or the internet, yet magic had seamlessly filled those gaps.

Approaching the sink, he noticed a small, hovering blue crystal. The moment he placed his hand beneath it, cool water began flowing out.

"Magic is really convenient," he mused.

Despite the absence of modern technology, this world wasn't that far behind Earth. Magic was deeply integrated into daily life—there was magic for agriculture, air-conditioning, cooking, entertainment, and even household chores. And surprisingly, it wasn't just the nobility that benefited from these luxuries. The common folk could afford a comfortable life too, thanks to the vast wealth of the Aurion Empire and its abundant natural resources, including dungeons that provided valuable materials.

Splashing water onto his face, he looked up at his reflection in the mirror.

His emerald-green eyes stared back at him, sharp yet carrying an almost playful glint. His hair, a vibrant shade of crimson, was a trademark of the Crimson family. His facial features, though undeniably handsome, still had a trace of youthful roundness. There was a mix of innocence and mischief in his expression, like someone who had yet to experience the true weight of the world but was already peering into its depths.

A smirk tugged at his lips.

"Damn, I really hit the genetic lottery in this life."

But as that thought crossed his mind, another one surfaced.

"In my past life, I thought I looked decent enough… but was I just lying to myself?"

His smirk faltered for a second, and then—

"Ahem! What's so good about having a handsome face if both the girls I liked didn't even fancy me?"

For a moment, he felt good about himself. Then, realization struck.

"Wait… why am I roasting myself? And why am I enjoying it?"

Shaking his head, he quickly dried his face and left the washroom.

Clarissa was waiting outside.

"Your light breakfast is ready, young master."

He nodded, following her as she led him toward the dining hall.

Asher walked in silence, but his mind drifted again.

"Having maids and butlers never felt weird before… but now, after remembering my life on Earth, it feels kinda strange."

He quickly averted his gaze from Clarissa's back and, trying to distract himself, asked, "Is my brother up already?"

Clarissa, walking ahead, responded without turning around. "Yes, young master. He's at the training grounds, as always."

"Of course he is," Asher thought with mild exasperation.

When they arrived at the dining hall, he saw the large table spread with various fresh fruits and a big bowl filled with muffins. Without hesitation, he grabbed a plate, piled it with some muffins and berry-like fruits, then turned on his heel.

Clarissa frowned. "Where are you going, young master?"

"To the training grounds," he answered, already walking away. "Let's see if my brother is doing well or not."

As he stepped into the open courtyard, he saw Arthur swinging his sword in a steady, rhythmic motion. His movements were precise, disciplined, and powerful. He was wearing enchanted training bracelets on his wrists and ankles—weighted with magic, designed to push the user's physical limits.

Nearby, a sharply dressed butler stood at attention, watching over Arthur's practice. His posture was straight, his silver-rimmed glasses catching the morning light.

"Alfonso," Asher recognized him immediately.

Taking a bite of his muffin, he casually walked over.

Alfonso, noticing him, smiled warmly. "Good morning, Master Asher. Did you have a pleasant dream?"

Asher's lips twitched. His dream had been bizarre—something between a fever dream and a fragmented memory of Earth. He didn't know how to respond.

He settled with, "Well… I wouldn't say pleasant, but whatever."

Alfonso nodded in understanding. "Yesterday was quite a difficult day. It is understandable."

Asher glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "I don't think you actually understand, but okay."

Instead of pressing the topic, he asked, "So, how long has he been up?"

Alfonso adjusted his glasses. "For a while now."

Asher sighed, shaking his head as he watched his brother train.

"Of course he has."

He took another bite of his muffin, already wondering how the rest of the day would unfold.

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