Chapter 5. The Empire's Crown Prince

The middle-aged woman was visibly relieved but overwhelmed by emotion. Tears ran down her cheeks, making a trail of sadness and distress. The room seemed to hold its breath, as if feeling her sorrow, as she allowed herself to let go of the pent-up emotions that had been building up inside her.

Rayvenne felt a flash of concern seeing her; however, the woman, as she realized the person on the bed was finally awake, let out an anxious scream, urging someone to contact the doctor. It was critical that he be summoned immediately to examine the situation and administer the appropriate medical care.

Her sobbing resonated throughout the silence. Rayvenne was startled when she heard a loud bang behind her—a door slamming shut. She quickly moved her head towards the noise source.

When the door opened, a guy with black hair entered the room behind him, following a woman with silver hair, his refined demeanor giving an impression of wisdom to his appearance. The way he stood radiated elegance while wearing a simple black tunic embellished with beautiful gold embroidery and adorned with the Emperor's and his lineage's crest. With each step, the man gave out an air of authority, leaving no question that he was a powerful figure.

Rayvenne became intrigued as the man walked quickly into the room; every gesture of his was filled with grace. She couldn't help but wonder who he was and why she was in this luxurious, strange location. As the woman's calls for a doctor faded, the room fell silent, except for the soft rustle of the man's clothes as he approached the bed.

Her thoughts raced with questions, each more puzzling than the next. What had happened to her, and how had she gotten here? Was this all some sort of strange dream, or had she been thrust into a completely different world?

"Oh, Prince Ray! My son!" The woman with wavy silver hair that cascaded down her back dashed to Rayvenne's side. Despite the wrinkles etched on her tired face, her beauty still shone through.

She was dressed in a flowing, long dress that gracefully embraced her supple figure. Its color was as dark as the night sky, a hypnotic black that appeared to absorb all the light around it. The cloth was so light and soft that it felt like a lovely caress on the skin. The outfit appeared to be expertly fashioned from the finest silk. It was decorated with a stunning gold tunic.

This tunic, meticulously crafted, boasted complicated lace details that added an air of elegance and sophistication. But what actually distinguished it were the finest jewels that had been skillfully embroidered onto its surface, flashing and shimmering with each movement. It was a sight to behold, a true masterpiece that raised the clothing to a new level of grace and majesty.

Rayvenne seemed confused as she watched the people around her; she seemed unable to process anything, including the surroundings and the people in them.

"Who?" Her typical voice was loud and low, but this one wasn't her ordinary voice. This voice sounded deeper, darker, and heavier. And definitely not a woman's voice.

The woman's eyes widened in fear as she heard Rayvenne's strange tone. She softly took Rayvenne's hand, her own trembling slightly.

"My beloved son, I am your mother, the Empress. Don't you recognize me?" She asked, her voice tinged with worry.

"I'm afraid there must be some mistake," Rayvenne said, her voice still strong and manly. "I don't know who you are."

"Ray?" As the woman moved gracefully towards her with an air of grace, she settled herself on the edge of the bed, her hands carefully cupping Rayvenne's face. The black velvet gloves she wore added a sense of mystery and sophistication; they felt great on her skin, making her head feel a lot better. It was as if she had stepped out of a royal court; she gave off the majestic aura of an Empress, or possibly the wife of an esteemed member of the noble class. "You don't remember your mother?"

"My mother? Who? Are you my mother?" Rayvenne felt a rush of emotion as the silver-haired, middle-aged woman stared at her. Tears began to fill up in her eyes and spill down her cheeks.

"Rayshawn Elrod! You must stop joking quickly and avoid making your mother cry!" In the dimly lit room, the air was heavy with anticipation, and the sound of a deep, powerful voice echoed against the walls.

The man, his hair a distinguishing shade of gray because of his age, demanded attention as his remarks filled the room, pulling those who listened.

"What exactly do you mean? And who is Rayshawn Elrod? Me? Who are you?" As Rayvenne struggled to get herself out of bed, a familiar feeling rushed over her.

The woman, whom she assumed was her mother, softly rested a hand on her shoulder to steady her. "My beloved son, I'm your mother, the Empress. You are Rayshawn Elrod, this empire's crown prince. Do you not remember?"

Rayvenne's mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation. Crown Prince? Empress? She has no memory of any of it. The only things she remembered vividly were the collision, the truck, and her sister-in-law, Beth.

Rayvenne Kaufman—that was her name, not Rayshawn Elrod. She wondered why the name Rayshawn Elrod sounded so familiar to her. Rayvenne was the firstborn daughter of the prestigious Kaufman family, owners of Kaufman Conglomerates. Though she was not a princess in the traditional sense, she was often regarded as a figure comparable to royalty in her world.

In an act of hurry, a middle-aged man dressed like a doctor, with a crisp white coat, entered the room. A younger man, dressed solemnly like a priest, trailed closely behind, his face etched with extreme worry.

As the elderly doctor approached Rayvenne, his aged hands held a strange tool she had never seen before. With a soft touch, he proceeded to thoroughly inspect her, his eyes bright with curiosity and wisdom. Meanwhile, the younger man dressed in a pristine white priest's robe stood nearby, softly chanting words that seemed to carry an unearthly power.

The air was thick with expectation as the scene took place, leaving Rayvenne intrigued but slightly anxious. As she laid on the bed, her eyes opened in surprise. The younger man, who looked like a priest, stood by her side, his palm gleaming with a bright golden light. Slowly, the dazzling glow spread from his hand and covered her entire body.

Rayvenne had a warm sensation, and she felt everything in her body to be in better condition. Her head was no longer being ripped apart, and her difficult breathing had stopped. As she glanced about, everything became clearer, and she realized she was no longer on Earth—not the earth she knows.

"Definitely not on my earth anymore," Rayvenne said softly, her voice full of shock and bewilderment.

The physician dropped his head respectfully before the man who appeared to be the Emperor. "I regret to inform Your Imperial Majesty, The Sun of Esgalduin, that it appears His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince has amnesia."

The Emperor's brow furrowed with concern. "Amnesia? Will he be able to return to his old state?"

The doctor hesitated before saying, "Some cases showed they can remember everything; some only have a portion of their memories, but most will live the rest of their lives without knowledge of their past memories."

Rayvenne listened closely, recalling the term 'Esgalduin' from her sister Sarah's favorite manga. She'd constantly urge Rayvenne to read it with her because of its unique plot and wonderful artwork, never expecting to find herself in a world so close to the one represented in the manga itself.

"Who am I, again?" Rayvenne asked, her voice filled with uncertainty.