Mirror Crown
Christian Classic had never been one to appreciate the simple joys of life. He preferred the high-end, extravagant experiences that money could buy, the kind that made a statement, even if he didn't truly care about the statement being made. So, when his father suggested a getaway to a private resort on a remote island, Christian had only one concern—how quickly he could escape back to his familiar world of power, privilege, and boredom.
The island was beautiful, yes. The crystal-clear waters, the endless horizon, the gentle breeze that carried the scent of tropical flowers—everything was perfect, but Christian didn't care. He was used to perfection. The island felt too quiet, too disconnected from the buzz of his usual life. It was a place where time seemed to slow down, a place that wasn't filled with the incessant demands of his father's empire or the parties that populated his weekends.
He spent his days lounging by the pool, an ever-present drink in hand, his thoughts drifting aimlessly. He was the epitome of luxury, surrounded by staff at his beck and call, none of whom dared to ask for anything from him. They were invisible, as he liked them. The only thing that ever stirred his indifference was his own reflection in the still waters of the pool—his face, untouched by care, a mask of boredom.
Christian's entourage followed him, as usual, a group of sycophants eager to feed into his ego. They were only there to amuse him, to stroke his ego, to provide him with whatever fleeting entertainment he demanded. His real interest, though, was in the nightlife of the island. The remote resort had a nightclub, and Christian had already made plans to visit it for the night. He couldn't wait for the thrill of the dimly lit rooms, the neon lights, and the intoxicating music that drowned out any rational thought. The chaos was comforting—like his world back home.
But there was something different about this place, something he couldn't shake. For the first time in a long while, he felt an odd sense of detachment. The staff were kind, yes, but there was an unfamiliar respect in the air. They looked at him differently—not with the usual awe, but with something else. Were they pitying him? Did they know he didn't belong? He brushed it off. What did it matter?
Christian's boredom eventually led him to a decision—he would drive out to explore the island, seeking a moment of excitement in a secluded corner of the resort. His father's voice echoed in his mind, but he ignored it. "Don't overdo it. Stay safe," his father had warned before he left. Christian never took the warnings seriously. Rules were for people who had to follow them. He was untouchable.
Behind the wheel of his sleek sports car, the road stretched ahead like a path to nowhere, just the way he liked it. The wind tugged at his hair as he sped along the narrow road, the engine roaring as though it too was impatient. He wanted speed. He wanted to feel something other than apathy. The thrill of the road, the blur of the world passing by—it was the only thing that made him feel alive in a world where everything else seemed to lack meaning.
But fate has a way of catching up with even the most careless souls.
It happened in a split second—a sharp turn, a flash of light from another car, the screech of tires, and then nothing. The world slowed, the noise ceased, and everything became dark.
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