Chapter 1 - Nice, Right?

This is the story of my reincarnation, how I died and wound up in another world, in a world of Magic and Monsters, you know the type...but before we get to that, let's go through my first life, in a more 'normal' world, a world of science and politics.

The specific details of my life, like my nationality, race or even my name, are irrelevant, so I won't bother mentioning them.

On the surface, my old life was one that most people would envy...I was born into wealth, my family a highly influential one with strong ties to and involvement in the political world of the country I was born in.

I lived in a mansion, with practically an army of maids and butlers to do everything for me. I had a twin brother too, and at the risk of bragging, I was quite talented, able to do anything I put my mind to.

I had a photographic memory, and so long as I properly study something, I won't forget it. It was the epitome of upper-crust, high society living.

So yeah, as far as most people would be concerned, I had the perfect life. Sounds nice, right?

But like I said, that was all only on the surface. Things aren't always as they same, what you see at first glance doesn't give you the full picture.

I suffered from a certain condition known as Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, or ADHD. And I soon found out that fedicating myself to any one, single thing was extremely difficult, I was easily distracted and quickly got bored of anything once I'd gotten good at it.

Despite my photographic memory, I struggled to focus on any one thing for very long. Instead, I was always looking for something new to try my hands at.

The first time I rode a bike, I spent a couple of days or so learning how to do so, and once I figured it out and could ride fairly well...I lost all interest in it.

Every now and then, I get the desire to give it a try again, but only for a little bit. I was taught to play the piano and the violin, but again, once I got the hang of those instruments, I could no longer focus on playing them or mastering them further.

I'd enjoy giving them a go once in a while, but never for more than a moment at a time. Before long, I'd find myself desiring to try something new again.

It's like when you get into what seems like a good video game, but then realize that you need to do a whole lot of grinding to progress. Once it's no longer fun, you just don't feel like playing anymore.

When I was younger, my parents were really encouraging and supportive of me, singing my praises and gushing over my talents. They had extremely high expectations for me, and would regularly bring up how proud of me they were.

As a result, the once good relationship I had with my twin brother soured, as my parents didn't pay him much attention, while I hogged the spotlight. I was still just a kid, so I never realized how my actions were alienating my brother, everything in my life just seemed perfect to me.

But it wasn't very long before that changed. With each talent that I abandoned and replaced with something new, the more and more criticism I'd hear from my parents. They'd express their disappointment in me, and that disappointment quickly turned to displeasure and outrage.

Our family lived in the public eye, meaning that there was always media attention on my parents, who were both well-known politicians, as were many other members of my family.

As a result, I was constantly made to attend classes regarding etiquette and how to conduct myself, as well as more general classes in regards to studies.

And at first, I did quite well, regularly getting high scores during tests. I found myself enjoying studying and learning new things...but after some time, it began to feel like torture, the knowledge I'd be made to learn seemed pointless, and failed to capture my interest or attention.

Minutes would feel like hours, hours would feel like days, I'd often read a page in a textbook, only to realize that I hadn't actually absorbed so much as a single word from it, the letters seeming to be indecipherable symbols to me.

I'd re-read it, and it would seem like I was reading it for the first time, despite having already read it only seconds earlier.

Meanwhile, my twin brother, who had started off as slow learner, began to thrive in the areas where I was starting to hit walls, as I was unable to progress due to my inability to focus on things I wasn't interested in, while my brother worked really hard to catch up to and then eventually surpass me.

The tension between my parents and I only continued to rise as a result of my continued lagging progress, and there was nothing I could say to their criticism and snide remarks about it, because I myself couldn't understand why I was like this.

And I know, compared to how so many other people around the world suffer and struggle for even the most basic of necessities, my struggles were inconsequential in comparison.

Even so...they never felt inconsequential to me. And eventually, my parents words starting to affect me, made me believe that everything they said about me was true...I felt like something was wrong with me, and I hated myself for it.

But of course, that wasn't enough to make me change. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't miraculously gain the ability to focus better, or to suddenly be able to dedicate myself to things that I had no interest in.

And because of that, tensions only continued to rise. The praise I'd had lavished on me in my younger days had completely disappeared, these days I'd only ever hear them directed at my brother.

I soon realized that my brother had resented me when we were younger, jealous of the praise I'd receive when he was largely ignored since he was a slower learner. He had to work hard to get good at something, while it'd come naturally to me after a short while, so long as I was interested in it.

And when we got older, and he finally began earning the praise of our parents while I fell more and more out of favor with them, that resentment he felt towards me turned to condescension and spite.

By the time we reached our late teens, he had mastered the skills that our parents most desired. Etiquette, education, musical instruments and a deep understanding of politics.

Meanwhile, I was a jack of all trades, but a master of none. The things he was good at, I was average at. The things he was bad at, I was average at. The things he'd never even considered trying, I was average at.

Sleight of hand, singing, dancing, pointless little tricks like spinning a pen on your hand or flipping a coin between your fingers, I could do all sorts of things reasonably well, but I never mastered any of them, nor did I have any desire to.

I was good enough at those things to the point where you'd probably say something like 'oh, you're pretty good at that', but not good enough to be mind-blowing. Good enough that if I'd entered a talent show, I might make it past the audition round, and then quietly disappear from the competition, as those who've dedicated themselves to a single craft, naturally, outshine me.

At this point, my parents had completely given up on me, having written me off as a lost cause, while focusing more on my brother, who now regularly attended political events with them as they groomed him to succeed them, while I rarely even left the mansion anymore.

They were basically hiding me away...and no, I'm not being dramatic, they've literally told me as much. I once tried to stand up for myself, tried to get them to understand that I have trouble focusing, and even though I want to change that, I just can't.

But all I did was piss them off. They accused me of simply making excuses for how pathetic I was, they couldn't accept that a member of their family wasn't 'normal'. They were infuriated, saying that I was going to ruin their family name and make them the laughing stock of the nation.

I pushed a bit harder, trying to make them see my feelings...but they disregarded that, claiming that what's most important is maintaining the family image and reputation.

That pissed me off, and I impulsively yelled that I wished we were a normal, average family instead. I was just being petty, lashing out in my frustration that they refused to understand my side of the situation, but to be fair, I was only sixteen at the time, you can't expect much maturity from someone in their midteens.

But my parents didn't see it that way...my father then slapped me in a rage, before my mother accused me of trying to curse our family by not being grateful for our wealth and prosperity. I should mention that they were pretty religious and superstitious people.

After that, I gave up on trying to convince them of anything. They left me be, and I did the same with them. For the most part, anyway, they still took the effort to make snide remarks at me every now and then.

And now in the present, I was basically dead inside. I've stopped caring about a lot of things, I was just sort of drifting through life aimlessly. I just felt so...disconnected from reality.

Today, not long after I'd turned twenty, on a rainy day, I found myself waking up at around 12 PM, sitting up with a yawn as I blinked a few times to let my eyes adjust to the sunlight streaming in through the blinds on my window.

"It's really pouring out there, huh?" I muttered to myself absent-mindedly, as I slowly got out of bed.

Too bad, I was hoping to go out in the garden today...I've been trying my hand at using a whip, like tossing stuff up and striking them with it. It's pretty fun, and I've already spent more time at it than I usually do with a hobby I pick up.

I'm also practicing juggling, but that's starting to get boring now...I'll probably drop it in a day or two at most, no pun intended.

As I walked over to the door and opened it, stepping out of the room, I grimaced as my father walked past me.

"You're up nice and early, aren't you, you waste of space?" He muttered under his breath, definitely saying it loud enough for me to hear on purpose.

Just ignore it, it's nothing you're not used to. But, if I'm being honest, I'd be lying if I said it didn't get to me.

I'm twenty years old, I'm not a kid anymore...but I have no idea what to do with my life. And I don't have the motivation to put any serious thought into figuring it out.

My parents won't disown me or anything, that'd ruin their precious family image, after all. But despite my lack of motivation or drive, I don't want to leech off them for the rest of my life. All that'd do is prove them right about everything they say about me.

But I have no clue how to lift myself up, or rather, I just can't be bothered to do so. I let out a sigh as I walked towards the bathroom, feeling a tiny bit miserable, as I always do...talk about pathetic, huh?

As I reached the bathroom, my brother walked past me and roughly bumped his shoulder against mine with a slight smirk.

"Oh, sorry, didn't see you there. Since it wouldn't make a difference if you didn't exist, I failed to notice you," He laughed in amusement.

Huh, he sounds more and more like our parents with each passing day, how sweet. I bet they must be so proud. Well, this is my life...nice, right?

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Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Don't forget to vote, and feel free to leave a comment, I appreciate any and all feedback and criticism!

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