<h4>Chapter 158 - Boys With Transparent Tastes</h4>


    Being born is so damn painful.


    First, you are pushed around for hours, pulled by foreign hands and have to leave the warm ce that has been your home for months. Then, as soon as you''re parted from thatfortable ce, you need to breathe.


    Lungs start aching, every muscle twitches at its own pace. It bes unbearable, but you don''t know how to fight it.


    Until your instinct takes over and you inhale your first mouthful of air. Crying is the only thing imprinted in a new brain, so you don''t have any other choice.


    It took me days to get over that experience.


    When I opened my eyes and saw a woman, a part of my soul recognised her as my nanny. She was the one that took care of me in my first years. My mother couldn''t because...


    ?Oh, no! My Lady!? one of the nurses shouted.


    I didn''t know how to move my head, so I just gazed at thoseforting eyes.


    My mother died a few minutes after giving birth to me.


    I had just calmed down when that knowledge struck me. I wanted to see her at least once. I didn''t know her face nor her voice.


    I didn''t know anything, not even how to shout. Yet, a part of my consciousness craved for her.


    ?Let me see it,? a woman whispered. ?At least once, please...?


    The nanny soon dropped me in that stranger''s arms, and I saw her. She had the same eyes as Elias.


    Elias? Who was that?


    Who was I? And why was my brain full of questions and opinions?


    ?Be a good boy,? she said. She pecked my forehead, and her scent reached my nose. I couldn''t see her features with rity; my sight was too weak. Only her eyes'' colour and her dark hair.


    Still, her scent was clear as day. I could have recognised her anywhere.


    I opened my mouth to call her, but all that came out was a weird sound and then a cry.


    I was taken away from her too soon, and I cried for a day or two more. It''s odd how some part of me knew how to count time.


    I was just a baby. That was clear. I didn''t remember much, but I knew that it wasn''t the first time I lived.


    I could recall so little from my previous life, but a beautiful woman''s face was so clear that it was scary. Only the thought I would meet her one day made me calm down and fall asleep.


    ?Such a good child,? one of the maids said.


    The nanny cradling me just nodded. I wanted to hear her voice as well, but somehow I knew she didn''t talk.


    ?He resembles the Lord so much...?


    The Lord? Did they mean father?


    Oh, I missed him. And that otherdy by his side. But it was too early to worry about everything. I was so tired after birth.


    ?It''s a pity for the Lady, though,? the maid continued.


    The rest of the one-way conversation between a chatty girl and my silent nanny was lost in the dreams, as I rested my muscles tired from crying and my eyes hurting because of all that light.


    The first day of life was the longest. The following flew away like a blow of wind. Everything was boring and monotonous. One of the few events that broke the w was my father''s visit.


    The first time, he didn''t even lift me from the bed. He observed in silence and left after a few minutes.


    It took him weeks to carry me. He always had a weird grimace on his face.


    ?It''s not your fault,? he once whispered.


    He was busy with his work and hurt by his wife''s death. He didn''t have enough time for me, but it didn''t matter.


    My nanny was always there, so I had enough attention and care.


    I grew up healthy and light-hearted.


    When I was four, maybe five, another important person of my childhood appeared.


    My father called for me and waited in the study. I was brought there by my caretaker of that period. I strolled in, and that woman left.


    I turned towards the giant desk and waited patiently.


    ?Alexander, this will soon be my wife,? my father said.


    My eyesnded on a prettydy, and I grinned happily. I ran to her and lifted my arms.


    ?Mother!? I eximed. I remembered her from my previous life. Memories were still clouded, but I was sure it was her.


    The new Lady stared at me, dumbfounded, and then she turned to my father.


    ?Does he call that anydy you approach?? she asked with a cunning smile. ?Or only beautiful ones??


    ?It''s the first time this happens,? my father replied, confused like never before.


    ?Mother,? I called her again. I didn''t have time to waste with adults'' exnations. I had to introduce myself to her. ?My name is Xander.?


    ?Oh, pleased to meet you,? she chuckled.


    I lifted my hand and apanied her to the sofa. I waited as she sat, and then I climbed next to her. Father was d that we got along, even though his confused expression didn''t change for quite some time.


    That was the woman that would give birth to my little sister. She had to be treated with care.


    She epted me as her adopted son, and I started passing my afternoons in the Lady''s office. That ce was somehow magical. Men weren''t allowed, so it was always calm.


    It was early to learn writing, but I couldn''t wait to print down the letters that crowded my mind. I was already able to read, but my fingers didn''t know how to move with a pencil.


    I needed training.


    That''s the reason why I started drawing. One day, I remembered that beautiful face from my dreams.


    I tried imprinting her features on the paper, but the result wasn''t as precise as hoped. However, it was the first time that something from my head took form in the real world.


    I wrote the word wife under her face and grinned, happy. Years had to pass before actually meeting her, but I would surely reach her again.


    ?Who is that?? mother asked.


    ?My wife,? I shrugged. ?Do you like her??


    ?Hmm, isn''t she a bit old for you??


    ?She''s younger than me... She''s not even born yet. This is how she will be when she grows up.?


    ?Mhm... Interesting,? she said while patting my head. ?I like boys that have their mind clear and their tastes transparent.?


    ?It''s not a matter of taste,? I pointed out. It was about destiny.


    It was weird; I couldn''t recall whether mother liked my wife or not.


    Other than wife, another word continuously popped up in my mind. Queen. My wife was a Queen, it was clear. But the queen of what?


    ?Can you keep this for me?? I asked mother, delivering the paper and marching towards the library. It was time to investigate.


    There were so many things that I didn''t know, despite it being the second time I lived. The solution, luckily, was easy: reading.


    Another thing I understood was that I wasn''t ready for meeting my wife. I didn''t know anything, and I was painfully slow and clumsy.


    When I turned six, I finally started training the sword.


    It was boring, but at least it was fast. My body soon got used to the basics, and I decided to use more time to train my muscles.


    Mother said that girls like trained men. Or men with a trained physique. Or something of that sort.


    I had to be the best me before meeting her.


    Little by little, my body remembered the things I already knew. My brain processed all that information.


    There were so many books in my head, but no faces. Did I pass a whole life reading? Really?


    Regardless, this time everything went slightly easier.


    I learned advanced books because the basic ones already were packed in my brain. I trained with the knights because other children couldn''t keep my rhythm, and my tutor didn''t have anything else to teach me.


    It still felt like it wasn''t enough, but I already was better than in my previous life. A slight improvement is better than no improvement.


    Mother followed my growth with proud smiles, and she liked praising me in front of father at lunch.


    ?You two wouldn''t be so attached if you were of the same blood,? hemented once.


    His voice was calm, but I caught a slight trace of jealousy.


    ?Oh, it''s not my fault if our son is an overachiever,? she replied, her shoulders straight and her eyes smiling.


    ?Over-achiever?? I asked.


    ?It''s someone that likes surpassing expectations,? my father exined.


    ?I''m not that,? I pointed out. ?I just have my objectives clear.?


    While mother chuckled amusedly, father rolled his eyes and reached out for the chicken in the centre of the table.


    ?Who ordered chicken?? he asked, confused.


    ?I did,? I said. Was it such a crime? ?I''d like the drumsticks, father. Both of them, if you allow me.?