The Royal Physicians came in a wave of somber robes and serious expressions. Master Valerius led them, his silver beard freshly trimmed, his eyes carrying the weight of decades of royal service. Behind him came Physician Theron with his intense gaze and Physician Helena with her quiet, observant manner.
Kain sat in his bed, the diary safely hidden beneath his pillow, the map pressed against his chest under his shirt. He watched them approach with the wary attention of a street rat who had learned long ago that people in authority rarely brought good news.
"Your Highness," Valerius said with a bow, "we've come for your morning examination."
Kain nodded, saying nothing. He'd learned that silence often revealed more than speech.
They worked efficiently—checking his pulse, his breathing, the color of his skin. Helena placed her hand on his temple again, searching for the flow of mana through channels he couldn't see or feel. Theron asked him to move his arms, his legs, to squeeze their fingers and track their moving hands with his eyes.
Throughout it all, they muttered to each other in low voices, their expressions shifting from professional detachment to genuine surprise to something that looked almost like... alarm?
"Remarkable," Helena breathed, removing her hand from his temple. "His mana channels are not just recovering—they're expanding. The flow is stronger than it was before the coma. Stronger than it's ever been, if these records are accurate."
Theron nodded grimly. "His muscle tone is returning at an impossible rate. A week of this recovery would normally take months. At this pace..."
He didn't finish the sentence, but Kain could guess. At this pace, he's not human.
Valerius wrote furiously on a parchment, documenting everything. When they finished, he bowed stiffly.
"We will prepare a report for the King, Your Highness. Your recovery is... unprecedented."
Kain almost laughed. Unprecedented. That's one word for it.
The physicians filed out, leaving Kain alone with his thoughts and the growing certainty that something fundamental had changed in this body—something that would attract attention he didn't want.
The King, he thought. My "father." He'll read that report and still won't come visit.
The realization settled over him like a cold fog. In the hours since waking, he'd met servants, guards, physicians, and one golden-haired brother. But the King—the ruler of Austrai, the man whose blood supposedly ran in Aldric's veins—hadn't so much as sent a message.
Neither had the Queen.
Neither had the First Prince, the war maniac.
Neither had the Princess, the cruel one.
Neither had any noble, any knight captain, any person of significance in this vast castle.
Are they really his family? Kain wondered. Or is he truly as invisible as his diary said?
The Fourth Prince—the one who would join the hero's journey—hadn't appeared either. But according to the game's lore, he was probably already preparing for his destiny, unaware that his "useless" brother had been replaced by a dead boy from another world.
Kain leaned back against his pillows, staring at the ceiling.
I don't have to stay here, he thought. I don't have to play their games, navigate their politics, dodge their assassination attempts.
What if I just... left?
The idea bloomed in his mind like a flower through cracked pavement.
Take money—there must be gold somewhere in this room. Take the map. Slip out at night. Head for the Veilborn Expanse. Find those seven children. Live far away from kings and princes and wars I want no part of.
It was beautiful. Simple. Perfect.
Then he remembered.
Aldric tried to run. He had a bag packed. He had Kael helping him. And they found him anyway. Stabbed him. Left him to die.
Kain's fingers touched his side—Aldric's side—where the dagger had entered. The wound was healed now, thanks to whatever magic or medicine had kept the body alive through a year of coma. But the memory of it remained, written in the diary's bloodstained pages.
If I run, they'll catch me. The same people who killed Aldric. The same people who want the Fifth Prince dead.
Unless...
His mind raced, calculating angles and possibilities the way he used to calculate escape routes from dangerous situations back in his world.
Unless I convince them to let me leave. Make them think it's their idea. Make them think sending me away is safer than keeping me here.
But how? He was the useless prince. Why would anyone care where he went?
Before he could explore the thought further, the chamber door opened.
Not with a knock. Not with an announcement. Just... opened.
Cassian stood in the doorway.
Behind him, guards filled the corridor—more than Kain had seen before, at least a dozen. And beside Cassian, robed in dark blue, stood a man Kain didn't recognize. Older, with sharp features and eyes that seemed to glow faintly in the dim light.
A mage.
Kain's blood ran cold.
The assassination, he thought. Aldric saw it coming. The woman in gray predicted it. And now Cassian walks in with guards and a mage the morning after I wake up?
He knew.
Not everything, perhaps. But enough. Enough to be here, now, with force.
Cassian stepped into the room, his golden hair catching the light, his smile perfectly in place. But his eyes—those sharp, calculating blue eyes—were scanning everything. The bed. The pillows. The cabinet where Mary had found the paper and ink. Kain's face.
"Good morning, little brother," Cassian said warmly. "I hope you're feeling better today."
Kain looked at the guards. At the mage. At the cold intelligence behind Cassian's charming smile.
He did it, Kain realized with absolute certainty. Cassian poisoned Aldric. Cassian sent the assassins when the poison didn't work fast enough. Cassian has been pulling strings this whole time.
And now he was here, probably to finish the job.
But Cassian didn't know that Kain knew. Didn't know about the diary. Didn't know that the useless prince he'd tried to kill was now inhabited by someone who had spent his whole life reading dangerous people in dangerous situations.
Kain smiled back—a weak, uncertain smile, the kind Aldric might have given.
"Brother Cassian," he said, his voice soft. "I'm honored by your visit."
Cassian's eyes narrowed slightly—just a flicker, there and gone. He hadn't expected warmth. He'd expected fear, maybe. Confusion. Weakness.
Good, Kain thought. Let him wonder.
"I've brought someone to see you," Cassian said, gesturing to the mage. "Given the... unusual circumstances of your recovery, I thought it wise to have you examined by a specialist. Magic can sometimes leave traces that physicians miss."
The mage stepped forward, his faintly glowing eyes fixed on Kain.
Kain's heart pounded, but he kept his face calm.
He's checking for something. Possession? Influence? Evidence that I'm not Aldric?
If he finds it, I'm dead.
The mage raised his hands, and Kain felt a strange tingling spread across his skin—like ants crawling just beneath the surface. It wasn't painful, but it was deeply uncomfortable, an invasion he couldn't stop.
The mage's eyes widened slightly.
Then, just as suddenly as it began, it stopped.
The mage turned to Cassian and shook his head. "Nothing, Your Highness. His mana is his own. There's no trace of outside influence, possession, or magical manipulation. He is... himself."
Cassian's smile didn't waver, but something behind his eyes hardened.
He's disappointed, Kain realized. He wanted me to be possessed. Wanted an excuse.
"Fascinating," Cassian said. "Then my brother has simply made a miraculous recovery. The gods must be watching over him."
He moved closer to the bed, and Kain had to resist the urge to lean away.
"I'm so glad you're well, Aldric. Truly. We have so much to catch up on." He paused, his smile widening.
"I know that you are not Aldric."
Cassian's voice was soft, almost gentle, pitched so low that only Kain could hear. The guards behind him stood at attention, oblivious. The mage waited by the door, his glowing eyes fixed on some middle distance.
But Kain heard. Kain understood.
His blood turned to ice. His heart stuttered in his chest. For a single, horrifying moment, the world stopped spinning.
He knows. He KNOWS. How does he know?
Kain's face betrayed nothing—years of surviving on the streets had taught him that skill—but inside, chaos reigned. His mind raced through possibilities, denials, escape routes. None of them led anywhere good.
"What do you mean, brother?" Kain managed, his voice trembling in exactly the right way—the confusion of an innocent man, the fear of someone accused wrongly. "I don't understand."
Cassian watched him with those sharp blue eyes, and for a long, agonizing moment, he simply... smiled.
Then he laughed.
A warm, brotherly laugh that filled the room and probably convinced every guard within earshot that this was a pleasant family reunion.
"I'm just kidding, my dear brother!" Cassian clapped Kain on the shoulder—a friendly gesture, perfectly performed. "I heard some ridiculous prophecy about you, that's all. Just checking to see if you'd react."
Kain's relief was so overwhelming he nearly wept. Nearly.
Prophecy, he thought wildly. He's talking about the prophecy. The woman in gray. He doesn't know. He's fishing.
But even as the relief flooded through him, a smaller, colder voice whispered: He's still dangerous. He's still testing. Don't relax.
Kain forced a weak laugh. "Prophecy? What prophecy?"
Cassian waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, some nonsense about the Fifth Prince being replaced by a foreign soul. You know how superstitious people get." His eyes never left Kain's face. "I had to be sure, of course. For the kingdom's safety."
He's still testing, Kain realized. Every word, every gesture—he's watching for cracks.
But Kain had spent his whole life hiding. Hiding from debt collectors. Hiding from landlords. Hiding from the truth of his own existence. He could hide from this.
"I'm glad you're thorough, brother," Kain said, his voice steady. "Someone has to watch out for the kingdom."
Cassian's smile widened. For a moment, something flickered in his eyes—respect, maybe. Or annoyance that his trap hadn't sprung.
Then he turned to the guards.
"Arrest the imposter prince."
The words were casual. Conversational. As if he'd just commented on the weather.
The guards didn't hesitate. In an instant, swords were drawn, spears leveled, and Kain found himself surrounded by cold steel and colder eyes.
He stared at Cassian, his mind blank with shock.
"Is this... is this a prank, brother?" His voice cracked on the last word, genuine fear bleeding through.
Cassian smiled—that same warm, brotherly smile that had never reached his eyes.
"I wish it was," he said. "But you see..."
He raised his hand, gesturing toward the door.
And Kael stepped forward.
Kael. The personal guard. The one Aldric had trusted above all others. The one who had promised to help him escape. The one Aldric had mentioned in his diary with such affection, such gratitude.
Kael stood beside Cassian now, his head lowered, his face unreadable.
Kain stared at him, confusion and dawning horror warring in his chest. He'd read about Kael. He knew what Kael meant to Aldric. But he'd never seen the man's face—and now, seeing it for the first time, he understood.
Kael betrayed him. Kael was always Cassian's man.
"Kael?" Kain breathed, pouring every ounce of Aldric's supposed shock into the name. "You... you're the one who told him?"
Kael didn't look up. Didn't respond. His silence was answer enough.
Cassian laughed—genuinely laughed, as if this were all tremendously entertaining.
"Impressive," he said, circling Kain's bed like a predator examining wounded prey. "Your acting is far beyond what I imagined. If anyone else watched, they would truly believe you are Aldric."
He stopped, facing Kain directly.
"But I know about you. Kael told me about the woman in gray. The prophecy. I waited over a year to see what kind of monster would possess this body." His smile turned cold. "But you're useless to me. Just like Aldric was."
He raised his hand in a theatrical gesture.
"Under the name of Almighty God, I declare Prince Aldric possessed by an unknown soul. As Second Prince and heir to the throne, I sentence this imposter to death."
The guards shifted, their weapons ready.
Kain's teeth ground together. His hands clenched the silk sheets. And in the chaos of his mind, one thought rose above all others:
Kain's mind raced, fragments of thought exploding like fireworks. The game. The execution. The Fifth Prince dies before the hero's journey begins. It's canon. It's inevitable. I can't change it.
I don't have powers. I don't have allies. I don't even know how to fight.
The system is useless. The map is useless. Everything is useless.
Cassian was still talking, but Kain barely heard him. Words floated through the haze of terror—war, provoke, demon—and suddenly everything clicked into place.
The war. The demon invasion. The hero's journey.
It all starts after the Fifth Prince's execution.
Canon event. The Fifth Prince dies. It was always going to happen.
He laughed—a broken, bitter sound that made the guards shift uncomfortably.
"What a fate," Kain said, tears streaming down his face. "Here I thought I had a chance. Like those protagonists in stories who get transported to another world and somehow win against impossible odds." He laughed again, wiping at his eyes with a shaking hand. "But I didn't know the game. I never played it. I wasn't granted powers. The system is useless. And you—" he looked at Cassian with something like bitter admiration, "—you saw through me in one glance."
He shook his head, more tears falling.
"How cruel is my fate? To die in my own world, then die again in this one? To never have a chance, never have hope, never be anything but a failure?"
Cassian watched him with mild curiosity, like a scientist observing an interesting specimen
"I don't know what you're weeping about," he said. "But thank you for your sacrifice. With your death—a prince killed by demon sympathizers—I can finally provoke the war between humans and demons that this world needs."
The words hit Kain like a revelation.
The war. He wants to start the war. The Fifth Prince's execution isn't just family drama—it's a catalyst. A lie. A justification for conflict.
Kain looked at Cassian—really looked, past the golden hair and charming smile—and saw the monster beneath.
This is the Second Prince. The manipulator. The one who believes humans are superior. He's been planning this for years. The assassination attempt. The coma. The prophecy. All of it leading to this moment.
And Kain, poor dead Kain from another world, had walked right into the trap.
The guards closed in.
Cassian turned to leave.
The movement was casual, unhurried—a man who had already won, already decided the fate of another human being, already moved on to the next item on his agenda. His golden hair caught the light as he stepped toward the door, toward the guards, toward Kain's death.
And Kain, with nothing left to lose, found his voice.
"Wait."
The word escaped before he could think, before he could plan, before he could do anything but react. It hung in the air between them, small and desperate and utterly inadequate.
Cassian paused.
He didn't turn fully—just tilted his head, glancing back over his shoulder with the mild curiosity of someone who had heard a faintly interesting sound.
"Yes?"
Kain's mouth opened. His mind raced. The guards still surrounded him, their weapons gleaming, their faces blank masks of duty. Cassian stood at the threshold, one foot already out the door.
Think, he screamed at himself. Think think think think—
"You're making a mistake."
The words tumbled out, raw and unpolished. Not clever. Not calculated. Just... true.
Cassian's eyebrow rose a fraction. He turned a little more, facing Kain with that same amused expression.
"Am I?"
Kain nodded, his heart hammerging so hard he could feel it in his throat. "I'm not Aldric—you're right about that. I already admitted it. But I'm not what you think I am either."
"And what do I think you are?"
Careful, Kain warned himself. One wrong word and he's gone.
"A demon. A monster. Something from the Veilborn that crawled into your brother's corpse." Kain forced himself to meet those cold blue eyes. "But I'm not. I'm just... a person. From somewhere else. Another world."
Cassian's expression didn't change, but something in his posture shifted—a minute adjustment, like a hunter settling in to watch prey that had suddenly become more interesting.
"Another world," he repeated flatly.
"I died there. Took pills—poison—because I had nothing to live for. And then I woke up here. In this body. I don't know how. I don't know why." Kain spoke quickly, desperately, the words tumbling over each other. "But I know things. Things about this world. Things about the war. Things that could help you."
Cassian was quiet for a long moment. The guards exchanged glances. The morning light crept across the floor, indifferent to the life-and-death struggle playing out above it.
"Such as?" Cassian asked finally.
Kain's mind raced through fragments of memory—forum posts, overheard conversations, the scattered pieces of lore he'd absorbed without realizing it.
Think. What does he want? Power? Control? Victory in the war?
"New Heroes Party," Kain said.
Cassian's eyes narrowed.
"There are six heroes," Kain continued, grasping at half-remembered details. "Six people who can defeat the demon army. Who can bring glory to whoever controls them." He locked eyes with the Second Prince. "I know where they are. I can help you find them."
For the first time, something flickered in Cassian's gaze. Not warmth—never warmth—but interest. Sharp, calculating interest.
"You know about the Heroes," he said slowly. It wasn't a question.
"I know more than that." Kain pressed forward, feeling the thin ice beneath his feet. "I know that killing me won't give you what you want. I know the real threat isn't the demons—not the way you think. It's something older. Something that's been watching this world since before humans existed."
He was bluffing. Partially. The fragments of game lore and Aldric's diary had given him pieces, but not the whole picture. The Eclipsed Court. The shadow beings that predated both humans and demons. The woman in gray who had seen his arrival before it happened.
But Cassian didn't know that.
The Second Prince studied him for a long, tense moment. His blue eyes moved across Kain's face, cataloging every micro-expression, every bead of sweat, every tremor.
Kain forced himself to stay still. To breathe. To meet that gaze without flinching.
On the streets, he thought, you learn that predators can smell fear. But they can also smell desperation—and sometimes, desperation is more dangerous than fear.
Finally, Cassian smiled.
It was a small thing, barely a curve of lips, but it changed everything.
"Interesting," he said softly. "Very interesting."
He raised one elegant hand.
"Guards. Leave us."
The guards hesitated. Their weapons didn't lower. One of them—the one who had been standing outside Kain's door all morning—spoke up.
"Your Highness, is that wise? He's—"
Cassian's gaze shifted to the guard, and the man's voice died in his throat.
"Did I stutter?" Cassian asked pleasantly.
The guards left. All of them. The door closed behind them with a soft click that seemed louder than thunder.
Kain and Cassian were alone.
Cassian pulled a chair close to the bed—close enough that Kain could smell his cologne, something expensive and subtle—and sat down. He crossed one leg over the other, folded his hands in his lap, and regarded Kain with the patient attention of a man who had all the time in the world.
"Tell me more," he said. "About this other world of yours. About what you know. About these Heroes." His smile widened, sharp and dangerous. "And if you impress me..." He paused, letting the silence stretch. "Perhaps your execution can be postponed."
Kain's heart pounded. He'd bought himself time. Barely.
Now he just had to figure out how to use it.
Think, he told himself. Think like you've never thought before. Your life depends on it.
He took a deep breath, and began to speak.
---
TO BE CONTINUED...