Mirror Crown
Xavier walked through the corridors with a strange sense of dread. The soft chatter of staff seemed to grow quieter as they passed, their eyes still glued to him, each one whispering to the next. The air felt thick with expectations he hadn't asked for, yet somehow found himself bound by.
His feet moved mechanically, as if he were no longer in control of his body. The security guards, who had once been stern and vigilant, now seemed like eager servants, guiding him to a large, extravagant suite. The doors opened with a soft whoosh, revealing a room that could only be described as a palace—a place fit for a king, not a simple worker like Xavier.
He felt a wave of discomfort wash over him, his throat dry. The sheer luxury of the place was overwhelming. Everything was opulent, from the gold-trimmed furniture to the sprawling view of the island's private beaches visible through the massive windows. There was no way this room was meant for someone like him. It was meant for someone else—a name he didn't own. Someone he wasn't.
"You'll be staying here for the time being, sir," one of the guards said, his voice soft and respectful. "Please make yourself comfortable. We'll bring anything you need."
Xavier nodded stiffly, his mind still racing. He wasn't sure what was happening, but the more they treated him like Christian, the more he began to wonder if there was something else at play. Could this really be a simple case of mistaken identity? Or was there something deeper, something that went beyond what he could comprehend?
The guard led him to a massive wardrobe, its double doors opening with a quiet creak. Inside, there were rows and rows of suits—fine, tailored garments in every shade and fabric imaginable. The clothes looked too expensive to touch, let alone wear. It was a world he had never even dreamed of. The kind of world where someone like him didn't belong.
"These are for you, sir," the guard said with a bow, his face almost too polite. "Please choose whichever you'd prefer to wear for today's events. We have a schedule awaiting you."
Xavier stood frozen, staring at the clothes. He didn't know what to say. How could he possibly choose something to wear from a wardrobe that belonged to a man whose life was nothing like his own? He wasn't Christian Classic. He wasn't the heir to a fortune. He was Xavier—just a guy who worked hard to get by.
And yet, here he was, standing in front of a wardrobe meant for someone else. A wardrobe meant for a life that wasn't his.
He reached out with trembling hands and touched the fabric of a sleek black suit. It was smooth, expensive to the touch. His fingers recoiled as though they were betraying him by even brushing against it. He didn't belong here. This wasn't his life. This wasn't his world.
But then again, hadn't the staff already made up their minds? Hadn't they already decided that Xavier was Christian? It wasn't as if he could argue with them, even if he wanted to. What would happen if he refused to play along? What would happen if he told them the truth—that he was just a regular guy, not the heir to a fortune, not the person they thought he was?
The thought of the consequences terrified him. What if they didn't believe him? What if they reacted badly, punishing him for something he had no control over? His mind raced with possibilities, each one darker than the last. So many unknowns. So many ways this could spiral out of control.
But at that moment, the pull of the clothes was irresistible. They felt like a command rather than a choice. The luxurious fabric, the crispness of the shirts, the polished shoes—all of it felt like an unspoken expectation, one that weighed down on him and told him to play along, to step into this new life, even if it felt wrong.
With a sigh, Xavier pulled a dark, tailored suit from the rack. It was the kind of suit that screamed power and wealth. He wasn't sure if he could wear it or not, but it was the one that seemed to fit the occasion—the one that everyone would expect him to wear. It was a decision made out of necessity rather than desire.
He stepped into the changing room, closing the door behind him. As he stripped off his plain clothes and replaced them with the new attire, he couldn't help but feel a sense of betrayal. It was as if he were shedding his identity, layer by layer, and replacing it with someone else's. Someone he didn't want to be. Someone he could never be.
The suit fit like it was tailored for him—almost too perfectly. The fabric clung to his frame, shaping him into something unrecognizable. His reflection in the mirror seemed to stare back at him with an eerie stillness, the man in the suit appearing more like a stranger than the person he had been moments ago.
Xavier took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing thoughts. He wasn't sure what was happening anymore. He didn't know what game was being played or why he was being forced into this role. But one thing was clear—he couldn't back out now. He was already caught in the web, tangled in the lies of a life he didn't choose.
As he stepped out of the changing room, the staff greeted him with wide smiles, their faces lighting up as though they had just seen a celebrity. They treated him with a reverence that made his skin crawl. He wasn't sure how long he could keep up the act, but for now, he had no choice but to play along.
"Mr. Classic, you look perfect," one of the servants said, bowing slightly. "Shall we proceed to the dining room? Everyone is awaiting you."
Xavier nodded mechanically, forcing a smile. The weight of the suit seemed to grow heavier with every step he took. The room, the clothes, the attention—they all felt like a performance he didn't understand. And as he followed the staff through the corridors, he couldn't help but wonder how long this charade would last.
And what would happen when the truth finally came to light?