DETECTIVE JOHN

When growing up, a person will be forced to live within the scope of society. As if it has become the law of nature, the community has standard values ​​so that someone can be said to contribute. In order to pursue that, one must study and try harder than anyone else.

This man—he had at least done everything he could. Soon he will be able to live as a civil servant, a job highly coveted by society. But an illness makes his hope vanish.

He felt a soft and supple sensation clinging to his face without understanding what was happening. At the same time, he smelled a very soothing fragrance.

“Uuh?”

"You've finally awake, my dear son."

His consciousness began to recover, and he first realized himself being hugged in a woman’s melons. It took a few minutes for his brain to respond to the strange sequence of events.

The woman cried hysterically and tightened her arms even more, so the man had difficulty breathing.

Even though those minutes had passed, the woman didn't let him go. Nay, she hugged and kissed him like a mother to their newborn, which made his shirt moist with tears.

“Oh, God?! Young Master is awake.”

Just as this man had regained his senses, there was another scream.

An older woman was seen staring at them in surprise from outside the room, and then she ran the other way, hurriedly calling the whole household.

“Seriously? Young Master is awake?—ugh,” a man groaned. He fell after slipping while running down the hall.

Another footstep followed, and three people were seen standing beside the doorway.

This man—who had no idea what was going on could only look back with a strange look. 'What are they doing?'

“Young Master has just awake; you guys better not bother him now,” said someone in a gentle tone.

The four people lowered their heads as the figure passed by them. "Forgive us, Miss. Layla, We'll be leaving soon."

Like a servant's attitude towards their master—that was what it looked like.

A girl who looked to be in her 20s came into the room. "Thank goodness, you finally came to your senses," she greeted.

Her waist seemed to sway as she walked. The blue dress wrapped around her shapely figure was adorned with flowery accessories, and a similar decoration was attached to her white curls.

This man was transfixed by the beautiful sight, without realizing he was flanked by two women sitting on both sides of his bed.

The young woman, who was on his left, pulled his face and hugged him in her torso.

The same sensation as before, warm, fragrant, smooth, and supple. If there was anything else, it was something rising within him—which wasn't in the first embrace.

“Ooh, dear. Even though Mommy is still here,” pampered the adult woman; her hand stroked his head gently. "But you instead make out in front of me."

“Mother, it is better to call the healer,” said the young girl.

“Ah, yes. You’re right." The mature woman replied before walking out.

Although his awkwardness and confusion remain unanswered, this man surrenders himself to the unfolding sensation.

"Do you remember anything?"

"No," he replied spontaneously. His voice sounded buzzing as he willingly buried his face.

“You seem to love this, huh?” asked the girl, poking his cheek.

He didn't know what response she expected and chose to try to hide deeper into the temporary pleasures. Before finally, the girl forced his face away from the most comfortable place in the world.

“Aw, aw~,” he moaned.

“You are quite brave to do that in front of your mother,” she teased, pinching his cheeks.

“Mmm…she, was my mother?” The words just came out of his mouth.

"Huft...you were in a coma, maybe your memory hasn't really recovered yet," replied the girl, stroking the man’s face. “Don't you remember me too? Darling?"

Even though it was the same endearment that the mature woman would say, this time, it came from a girl the same age as him. Not to mention, the girl's sweet face seemed tempting just to play with his feelings.

"You are my wife?"

He shouldn't have said his innermost desires so loudly and confidently.

“Mmm… too bad, not quite right.”

For the first time, this man knows what it feels like to get rejected. But that feeling had vanished when he looked at the girl's expression.

"Hihi...we're just not married yet," teased the girl with a wide smile. "I will introduce myself again. My name is Layla Rose Whitehall, daughter of the Whitehall family. I am your fiancée.”

It was a sentence he had a hard time digesting. This young man—who was supposed to be lying in the hospital suddenly woke up somewhere. Then in the blink of an eye, a charming girl claims to be his fiancée.

While making a skeptical face, he mumbles, “My fiancée? Am I dreaming?”

Answering that question, the girl pinched his cheeks repeatedly, and he changed his expression in pain.

"If you dream, surely you won't feel the pain, right?"

"It's okay, rest first while waiting for the healer to come," Layla continued.

"If I may ask, what exactly happened to me?"

It was a reasonable question to answer his curiosity. He remembered being in pain last night, holding back the heat that filled his whole body. He wanted to scream in the infirmary, but somehow he couldn't.

"Archie, you've been unconscious for over a month. You have a disease that we don't know about. Even the medicaster can't diagnose your disease, let alone give you the antidote.

At first, you just have a fever, then get dizzy, and soon you feel nauseous and don't want to eat. You said you couldn't taste the food, no matter how good it was.

You also said you couldn't smell anything anymore until you finally fainted and didn't wake up until now," said Layla trying to explain softly.

That reply did not immediately answer the question but added to his curiosity instead. It was a symptom of the same illness he had in his old world when the plague spread worldwide, and he became one of the patients.