The full moon, a glowing yellowy white, loomed large, surrounded by an ethereal glow as the crows cried a mournful tune.
The Forbidden Room hidden underneath the Aruisha Castle was dark, and the disgusting stench of blood was thick enough to taste.
Eighteen bone-piercing nails penetrated the man's limbs, chest, and abdomen, anchoring his slender body to the concrete wall. Blood had been dripping from the man for several days, condensing from a bright red to a dark brown.
Moonlight shone in the dark room, giving the man's long, wavy hair a silver sheen.
Pain usurped his consciousness, his head hanging slackly. Silver hair draped around his deathly white skin, obscuring half of his face.
The graceful, beautiful man of the past was now a gory, bloody mess. But the faint, shining sigil between his eyebrows still gave him a devastating beauty.
Just like a flower that bloomed too often and soon would be ruined by death.
In the silence, the opening door emitted a creaking sound.
"How are you doing, Mohan?" Eberhardt walked leisurely in front of him. A soft look on his face.
The person on the wall ignored him. There was no sound of breathing, and only the slight undulations of his chest indicated that he still clung to life.
But death was approaching.
Eberhardt reached for the man's chin and softly pinched it, lifting it with barely any effort.
Lifeless, dull green eyes stared back at him. A glint of resistance was evident in his features.
"Still struggling even until death?" Eberhardt's smile only grew more prominent, heterochromatic eyes becoming softer. "Hm? But you've always been like this. It's no surprise."
Eberhardt gazed at the man with glistening eyes, mismatched colours of gold and azure gleaming in the moonlight.
Eberhardt eventually turned around, his hands clasped behind his back.
"You've always been an ambitious person, Mohan. Unfortunately, your greed overcame you. You lavished yourself with wealth and became a person hated by the whole of Aruisha, and even disappointed your father. You played your role perfectly in my eyes. In other words, a pawn." He began.
"Dutifully carrying out my orders, without even questioning my intentions. Even with your suspicions, you placed unconditional trust in me. Like a fool, Ha!" Manic laughter bubbled in his chest, echoing across the room.
The man pinned on the wall flinched.
These words seemed to provoke a response from the man, and his lips parted to let out a broken breath. "Father…father."
"Even on your last dying breath, you still think about that man." Eberhardt sighed as if resigned to the situation.
He burst into maniacal laughter.
"Ha! Haha! I can't do this; how clueless can you get!?" Eruptions of crazed, intermittent laughs coursed through Eberhardt, his shoulders shaking in amusement.
Then the shaking shoulders stopped, his back smoothing out and turning around to face the dying man—an indulgent look on his face.
He walked towards him, his dark eyebrows drawn down, his long fingers caressing the man's skin, slowly sliding to his fragile neck.
"Mohan, sweetheart. I killed your father. His power was necessary. I slowly dug out his core and savoured it with my own hands. The magic power tasted very delicious. After all, you are descendants of 'that' person." He murmured in his ear. Eyes slowly regaining that manic glint.
These words seemed to shock the dying man in his hands. The strong taste of rust in his mouth caused him to cough, scarlet blood spilling from his lips. The blood moistened his throat enough for him to rasp a word.
"Mon..ster."
The feeble man shivered. His lips trembled, and his eyes widened in anguish and despair.
He could only see a hazy shadow in front of him. Mohan closed his eyes, and eventually, a small, manic smile adorned his face. "..Are you going to kill me? Is that it?"
Eberhardt chuckled.
Suddenly his eyes glowed a deep red. The scarlet slowly faded those mismatched eyes. His long fingers on Mohan's neck into sharp claws, turning a deep grey.
The moonlight shining in the room rapidly glowed a dark red—an eerie stillness in the atmosphere.
A feeling of dread coursed through the man pinned on the wall. He stared in alarm at the monster in front of him.
"je ved je ved je v ed jee ved je ved hrl ljd ni jlm ..."
Eberhardt's expression grew deranged as he muttered something under his breath. He moved his hand down the man's chest. Stopping right above his heart.
The man was wrenched awake from his terror. His pupils flickering vacantly and strangely. Then, understanding the severity of the situation, he slumped briefly before frantically attempting to free himself, his pale lips twitching. There was something he wanted to say—
The blood-soaked spikes, had firmly imprisoned him, and Eberhardt was no longer willing to listen to him.
The sound of something being churned up and bones breaking lingered for a moment before dissipating.
The dust settled.
—————————————————————————
It hurts.
Something is wrong, something is terribly wrong.
His heart pounded loudly in his chest, cold sweat running down his forehead to his neck. He felt his limbs shiver and sweat pouring down his back.
'What's happening?'
Feeling lightheaded, he felt his surroundings blur, and the darkness that adorned the night sky felt like they were against him.
Then, a head-splitting headache attacked him behind his skull.
It was like someone had run a knife across
his skin and pulled out all his muscles and
tendons. The pain came from deep within
the bones, making his soul tremble and
thrash under the agony. But, his mind was
clear with anguish.
At that moment, he remembered everything.
Memories of a distant past, and future.
Mohan Yucht Asheim von Stein. In other words, him in his past life.
Mohan was a neglected child, growing up without receiving any attention and love from his parents, the Emperor and Queen.
He grew up a spoiled, weak, hated prince who was called worthless. Spending money from the imperial treasury without thinking, picking fights with citizens, abusing his power to flirt with girls even if they hinted that they weren't interested.
He was the worst of the worst.
However, none of these crimes belonged to him. So he couldn't be called the wrong party.
Although Mohan was spoiled and extravagant, He was naively timid inside. Noticing that his parents were alienating him, he became more inclined to earn their praise and affection. So Mohan secretly made tiny trinkets for them, but he never had the chance to give it to them. Instead, he hid it beside his bed hesitantly.
Strangely, he didn't feel surprised. It was as if he was already used to this. How strange.
Mohan cringed, finally comprehending the situation he was in.
He wasn't entirely pleased with this turn of events, recalling that the owner of this body had been drinking last night, drugged, and now was thrown back at the residence. He wondered who even had the patience to look after him.
He sighed and slowly got up, massaging his aching forehead.
"Do you need any assistance, Your Highness?"
Mohan could've sworn he glimpsed heaven and back.
He staggered faintly and turned around, staring at the person behind him in astonishment.
Just as he slowly lifted his head, a man stood politely with his hands on his sides. He's wearing a black and white suit with white, spotless gloves and a black tie. The number of buttons on the jacket made Mohan blink. He wondered if it was more for decoration purposes rather than anything practical. Why did someone need that many buttons on their persona? Nonetheless, he moved up to the insincere and smiling face of the older man? Young man? Teen? He narrowed his eyes and scrutinized the nearly flawless face.
The butler's features leaned towards the southeastern side. He had dark hair and dark skin. His muscles were neither bulky nor slim but lean and were beautifully proportioned.
And oh, his eyes. They were black, yes black, but it was an unusual kind of black. It was as if a glimpse of them would suck you in a whirlpool until only ashes remained.
They were beautiful, he admitted it.
Then there was his smile; it was a faint sardonic smile as if secretly mocking him.
Mohan guessed that he wasn't very well-liked by this person. Obviously, since he was in a body where everyone considered him a cheap, worthless Prince not even worth the insteps of the throne.
Nevertheless, he wasn't going to dwell on it that much. He's not exactly looking for anyone's approval.
'Ah, he's still staring at me as if waiting for an answer.' It's a bit eerie how he still hasn't changed his expression over these few minutes.
Well, he's not going to leave the man hanging forever anyway.
"Your name." He opened his mouth.
"Hm?" The man slowly blinked and looked slightly startled, not expecting him to say that.
"Your name, what is it?" He asked.
"…Amir. Amir Syed." Amir glanced at Mohan, curiosity evident.
"Amir," Mohan muttered the name with a slight accent under his breath.
He didn't notice the blank stare being given to him by Amir, whose expression had darkened into something vague.
Amir, meaning prince in Arabic. Mohan guessed there must've been Arabic origins in this world, the living evidence provided in front of him.
'Wait...Amir, Arabic origins? ..This world?' He stared dazedly at the floor, his brain gear slowly running at a fast pace.
He widened his eyes.
'…What's that? Arabic? Another world? Wait, my memories..' Suddenly discerning what was wrong, he began to think.
His memories seemed to be blank. Not a hint or clue enabled him to fully figure out why.
Why was he in this world? Why did he live again? Why couldn't he remember anything other than that he died and lived once more?
A prickling sensation shot up his spine, and a sudden sense of overwhelming dread prevailed. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears, his heart rapidly thudding in his chest.
His fingers dug into his palms as he clenched his hands.
'Why am I here? Who am I? Why can't I remember anything? Why am I living? Shouldn't I be dead? Dead? No, I'm alive. Why did I die? I'm dead. I'm alive. I'm..'
A sense of crisis overwhelmed his thoughts, his gaze turning blank. Cold sweat poured down his back.
But he forced himself to return to reality before he could lose himself.
He took a deep breath, in and out, and eventually, his breathing evened out.
"..Your Highness? Are you alright?"
Once he recovered his sense of sight, he found Amir's gaze fixed on him.
The two stared at each other for a while, until Mohan broke the silence.
"Yes. I am perfectly fine. Thank you."
Amir silently stared at him. This lasted for a few seconds before he answered, "You're welcome. Do you need assistance with anything else?"
The butler was bowing slightly, a flicker of coldness faintly discernible in his eyes.
"..."
'Why is this man so wary of me?' Mohan understands he was a scum child in his past life, but what grievances does this man even harbor for him anyway?
It was no use thinking about this now. For now, Mohan only needed a nice relaxing bath and a warm bed prepared for him.
He peered at the butler's expression. It wouldn't hurt to ask.
"..."
Ah. He left him hanging again.
"..."
"I want to rest," was what came out.
"Take me to my room." He demanded. He was growing tired by the second and couldn't bear standing longer.
The man stared at him for a few seconds, the coldness within his eyes receding.
"As you wish, right this way."
He then turned around and led him towards his room.
Unfortunately, Mohan underestimated the distance of the walk to his bedroom. They had gone from corridor to hall, past numerous paintings and expensive-looking antiques, and still hadn't arrived at his quarters. They were probably walking for hours if Mohan was inclined to exaggerate.
Mohan wanted to stop and rest for a while, but the man escorting him didn't seem to want to stop.
Given how slowly the sun moved across the horizon, it was highly likely that twenty minutes had passed.
"…"
How troublesome.
Eventually, they made it to his room. It was at the far end of the palace, which explains why it took so long to get there.
Either way, it felt a little awkward being led to such a spacious and pristine room. It didn't look as if someone had inhabited it. Instead, it looked blank and cold.
While inspecting the room, he saw the butler walk towards the walk-in closet, shuffling through them.
"…What are you doing?" He couldn't help but ask.
The other just returned his stare with a raised eyebrow, as if mocking his intelligence.
"Surely His Highness would love to sleep in his school uniform?"
"…"
He looked down and stared at his clothes.
Slim pants, leather boots, a white dress shirt with a gray vest, and a tie that finishes the look with a gold blazer...
…How embarrassing!
"Well, what are you staring at me for!? Dress me." Mohan fiddled with his fingers and narrowed his eyes dangerously at the man.
A paper tiger.
Amir looked unbothered as he went back to the closet. A few seconds later, he came back with a gown in his hand.
"Young Master, I will take care of you from here." Though it was spoken in a pleasant tone, it sounded more like an order than a request.
Mohan peered at the other's phony, sarcastic smile before nodding, despite the fact that taking care of him was the last thing the older man wanted to do.
Nevertheless, Mohan allowed the butler to unbutton his uniform.
Mohan blinked, perplexed to see a nightgown rather than pajamas or anything with pants, but raised his arms and let the butler slip it over his thin figure.
Nightgowns were common clothes for sleep, so there wasn't anything to be confused about.
As Amir folded the uniform and placed it somewhere else for the time being, he turned around to see a figure gracefully climbing onto the soft, ornate bed. Mohan turned around and demanded with a tired voice once he had settled down.
"Leave."
He wasn't so stupid as to leave an unknown stranger with malicious intentions in his room, even if he was a little casual about the situation he was in.
"..As you wish, Your Highness. I wish you a wonderful night." Amir peered at the young man for a moment, sarcasm hinting in his tone. He then bowed slightly out of habit and left the room.
Clank.
"…"
He sighed deeply as he let his body sink onto the bed. It felt like his body was melting into the mattress. It felt very comfortable.
Mohan hugged a cushion next to him as he raised the blanket and enveloped himself inside it.
Raising his head to peer through the window, he fell into deep thought.
He had many questions and many doubts, and he knew none of them could be answered in one night.
For example, Why couldn't he recall his memories? Were there other existences of worlds different from this? Why did he live again?
Mohan felt a headache coming on.
However, for every problem, there's a solution. With this attitude in mind, he slowly fell asleep.
…
Amir lightly closed the golden door behind him. His lowered gaze dimmed.
This was not what he expected.
At first, he approached the Young Prince out of convenience. After all, what would a barbaric man from the Desert of Sajid do to a High and Mighty Prince?
He let out a small laugh, which somehow sounded out of place in the empty halls.
Speaking of which, the Prince looked different from usual today. Usually, he would heave and start a rant about how uncooperative the women he went out to target were today.
Or how he would boast in pleasure about how he won an argument with a noble and how he showcased his loftiness and grace to the lowly people.
Or when he beat a little girl in public for accidentally tripping over his grand carriage in the streets with the public as witness.
The list goes on.
However, today's little change wouldn't be a problem in his plans.
No, it won't be an issue at all.
He reckoned that the little prince would go back to normal tomorrow.
The moonlight slowly gleamed in the floor-to-roof corridors, giving off the mysterious man a dark vibe.
'I have to hurry. After all, it wouldn't be long before it corrodes 𝘩𝘪𝘮.'
Amir's icy gaze returned to the closed door, this time in thought, before turning around and returning to his duties.
The sound of soft footsteps disappeared.
The once lively corridor returned to its usual state of deafening silence. The moon's radiance slowly rose and lit the entire hallway, as if silently bearing witness.