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Lazily stretching on the bed and waking up to yet another morning after another party, Kevin slowly opened his eyes. But... something was off. This was nothing like his small, shabby studio on the outskirts, usually cluttered with random junk. Instead, he found himself in a massive bedroom, furnished in a luxurious style: expensive furniture sets, dark wood, golden accents, and a breathtaking view of the coastline through a panoramic window. His head ached, but it didn’t feel like a hangover. It was something else.
— Ugh… what the… — he muttered slowly, but his voice sounded unexpectedly deep and raspy. Kevin froze, listening to himself, and repeated, louder this time:
— Hey… hey, what the hell?!
It wasn’t his voice. Slowly glancing around, Kevin sat up, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. On his wrist, a massive gold watch gleamed—clearly expensive. The fingers he saw before him were strong, with a faint network of veins visible, and once again, they weren’t his hands. He swallowed hard and, with a sinking feeling in his chest, stood up and walked toward the massive mirror on the wall.
The man staring back at him from the mirror was successful, slightly tired-looking, with a hint of gray hair and a neatly trimmed stubble, somewhere around fifty years old. He ran his hand over his face, trying to grasp whether this was some kind of bizarre dream. And then, it hit him: his wish. The one he drunkenly decided to make last night.
— That statue! It was telling the truth! I wasn’t crazy! — he said excitedly, his deep, raspy voice ringing out. Kevin stood there, wide-eyed, staring at the unfamiliar face—or rather, his new face? Yes, he no longer looked like a 20-year-old slacker. Now, he appeared to be a 50-year-old man. And yet, he was pleased with what he saw. He whispered again:
— I’m rich… — The voice was deeper than he was used to, and every shade of the raspy baritone reverberated through his chest. — Truly rich!
Just as he began to wrap his head around becoming someone entirely different, the bedroom door burst open. A woman stood in the doorway, glaring at him angrily. Tall, stunning, and all too familiar—she appeared in many of the photos scattered throughout the bedroom, standing next to this new Kevin. A long-haired blonde with perfect curves and glamorous outfits. In person, standing here in a simple robe, she looked even more beautiful but also… wild, almost unnatural.
Kevin’s mouth fell open as he tried to figure out who she was and why she was so angry.
— What the fuck, sweathart?! And why the hell am I calling you sweetheart, hubby?! — she snapped, grimacing after the words left her lips. Her mouth tightened as if she wanted to spit but couldn’t. She stared at him with burning eyes, clearly choosing her words carefully, though something was holding her back from unleashing a full verbal assault.