"Damn you, old man!"
The curse that had been stuck in his throat left his mouth before Alex managed to get a hold of himself. Then he was startled, because he was not tied anymore, nor was he still in his apartment. He looked around, and his eyes widened, recognizing the garden he had found himself in. But there was a subtle hazy feeling to the surroundings, making them slightly different from that familiar mansion in his memory.
Alex frowned, then stood up carefully.
"Dear grandson, how have you been?"
"Ah!!"
Alex's tense body jumped to the side like a startled cat, before he turned around, and his eyes widened as if he had seen a ghost. And he indeed did see one.
"You–"
It was really the old man, with his white hair, and the comfortable robe he liked so much when alive. He had his hands behind his back, and a mirthful smile on his lips, as he spoke with a teasing tone:
"Shh, what 'you'? Is that how you speak to your favorite grandpa?"
But Alex did not smile at the reunion. His eyes were still wide open as he looked at the old man who was supposed to be dead up and down. He even pointed a finger at him, his shock seemingly only growing stronger instead of diminishing:
"You–"
This time, the old man rolled his eyes.
"Alright, you can stop pretending."
Saying that, he started walking forward, leaving his back to Alex. The latter, as if a switch had been flipped, lost his expression full of shock. He looked around one more time, then looked at the back in front of him, before he moved to follow it.
They walked until a pavilion deeper in the garden, and stepped inside. Alex walked to stand beside his grandfather and looked at his profile as he initiated the conversation:
"This is a dream, isn't it?"
The old man kept his haze forward, as he replied with a light smile:
"Oh!? What makes you say that?"
Alex gave his grandfather a deep look, and rolled his eyes, before he also turned to look forward. Unlike the garden they had traversed, which he could recognize, the part beyond the pavilion was so irrationally shaped and colored that it made him feel as if he was under psychedelic influence.
If only things were not so glaringly clear, like a lucid dream.
Alex calmed down, and replied:
"For one, you look like you did twenty years ago, in my first memories of you. And damn, what the *bip* is that box you forced onto me?"
An imposing straight back, eyes with calm settled deep inside, without the sharpness that used to be housed in his heart merged with it, but also without the turbidity that used to shine with a deep but mischievous light in the time before his death.
The old man really did look like when he had been seventy, but with the same feeling of settled wine he had gained much later when he pulled back and left the frontline of the family to the younger generation.
He smiled good-naturedly:
"Don't be so crude, even if, well, this is just a 'dream'."
The way his grandfather put an emphasis on the last word as he glanced at him made Alex's lips twitch, but he refused to think too deeply. He had had enough of the old man being mysterious and all when he had been alive.
His reaction amused his grandfather, and he went on to twist the knife into the wound:
"Now, do you believe?"
"Like *bip* I will believe. When the *bip* did I sign for this? When the *bip* did I say I wanted to be your heir? And *bip*, can you stop censoring my words?"
The old man smiled calmly:
"It doesn't matter if you don't believe. Your fated one has appeared, and that is good. That is the most important. Time will do the rest."
Alex's frowned:
"Wait. What fated one? You don't mean… What the *bip* did you do, old man? You are already dead, can't you stop playing tricks?"
But Alex's outburst was only graced with a smile, one in control of everything. His eyes went wide, and he opened his mouth, but before he could speak, a white light not unlike the flash that caused the situation came to blind him, again, and everything went dark, again.
Alex stirred, the darkness in his mind clearing up. It turned into a haze he pushed through with a shake of his head, and he found himself back in the chair he had left in the dream, still with the restraints he had not even had the time to forget about.
Thinking of the clear dream he woke up from, Alex gritted his teeth like he would curse someone in the next second, only to exhale, somewhat helpless, somewhat defeated. A cold sensation from his head forced him to focus on his situation.
He raised his head, and noticed the light of dawn coming up. It was no wonder his head was feeling a little cold, his hair having remained damp for a few hours too long.
The rest of the room remained undisturbed, and the woman who was his 'fated one' was still unconscious on the ground. He leveled a distasteful glare at her unmoving form, before he moved his arms.
He struggled to push up the rope going around his arms and his torso to tie him to the chair. It took some effort, but he had his wits to thank for having made his mysterious captor downgrade the level of the BDSM play.
Offhandedly, Alex wondered how she was so adept at the play, before the rope reached his shoulders, and with one last effort, stopped hindering his arms. He exhaled, and enjoyed the small victory over the first challenge, ignoring the rope around his diaphragm and the chair, and which made what he did seem useless.
After taking a moment to gather his bearings and prepare himself, Alex fixed his gaze on the form on the ground, and exhaled, at the same time as he raised the hands tied at the back of the chair. He worked slowly, and pushing to the limit, made his arms parallel to the ground.
That was when the true challenge started.