Chapter 3 - .3 The Face In The Mirror
Jaxon groaned softly as the white light faded.
He was back in the same luxurious office again—the tall windows, marble floors, expensive leather furniture, and that damn chandelier. The only difference this time was the weight on his shoulders. No pun intended. He wasn’t just waking up from a dream now. This was his new life. A second chance—or a punishment, depending on how you looked at it.
"A new life with a new identity..." he muttered to himself, glancing around. "Too bad I have zero idea who I even am."
He let out a deep sigh. He never asked that fat pajama-wearing angel a single question about his role in this reality. His name, his background—none of it. He was so caught up in the chaos that the basics completely slipped his mind.
Jaxon stretched and got up from the leather chair. Across the office, he spotted a full-length mirror. As he walked toward it, he couldn’t help but admire the level of detail in the place. This wasn’t some office you’d find above a family-run corner store. This was the kind of space that belonged to someone rich—filthy rich.
He stopped in front of the mirror and stared.
"Damn..."
The man staring back at him was easily in his late teens or early twenties—about 19 or 20 at most. The body looked like it belonged to someone who lived in the gym: lean, muscular, and not a single ounce of fat in sight. He had a clean, sharp jawline, clear skin, healthy black hair that looked effortlessly styled, and perfect white teeth. Honestly, it was an upgrade.
And naturally, as any man who just got handed a brand-new body would do, he glanced down at the grind area.
"...Can’t blame a guy for checking the hardware."
He reached for his zipper, smirking to himself—until something stopped him cold.