The pages of my book fluttered as a breeze blew through the open window. I sighed, turning my head to gaze outside. The sky was clear today, and yet I still hadn't made any plans to prevent the tragic fate I knew awaited me.
Seven years had passed since I was reborn into this world. Everything seemed to be unfolding according to the novel. Arthur—no, *Father*—was already training Claudius to be the son he envisioned, a model of his ideals.
I had tried to win my father's favor, but it was no use. It felt as if I didn't even exist to him. Not that it mattered too much to me—I hadn't had a father in my previous life, so I wasn't missing anything. Besides, I could understand why Claudius was his favorite; he was smart, and he looked just like our father, with silver hair and striking red eyes.
I looked in the mirror, studying my own reflection. My face still held traces of baby fat, especially around the cheeks, making me look, well… a little cute. When I smiled, a small dimple appeared on my right cheek. My hair was a deep red, as vivid as blood. I wished it were longer, like my mother's, which was the same shade but fell in soft waves.
To survive under my father's misogynistic gaze, my mother had raised me as a boy, with only herself, the old midwife, and me knowing the truth. Even my father remained unaware.
A knock on the door broke my thoughts. "Oliver?" My mother's gentle, melodic voice sounded from the other side.
I opened the door quickly. "Yes, Mother? Do you need something?"
She looked down at me with a warm smile. "Can't I simply visit my own child?"
I shook my head and smiled back. "Of course, you can, Mother."
She gently pinched my cheek. My mother and I spent most of our time together. Father was always busy with his duties as a noble and preferred to keep Claudius distant, especially from Mother, fearing that being close to her would weaken him.
Mother and I tried to connect with Claudius when Father wasn't around, but he never wanted to talk to us. His eyes always held a cold, harsh look, as if he weren't a child at all.
As Mother and I walked in the garden, she admired the flowers, and I found them beautiful as well. But a shadow of worry crept over me as I thought about my future, and my mood sank.
Noticing, Mother gently stroked my hair. "What's wrong?" she asked.
I looked up at her, trying to smile. "It's nothing, Mother… just something I was thinking about."
She blinked, her eyes soft with curiosity. "And what were you thinking, my dear child? Perhaps I can help."
I couldn't very well tell her that Claudius would one day kill us. "Well, I recently read a story about a protagonist who tried to change her fate, but it didn't end well. I was wondering… if I were in her position, what could I do to change my future?"
Mother thought for a moment, glancing at the flowers around us. Then she knelt down, resting her hands on my shoulders. "Changing one's fate is difficult. I think a person must have a strong resolve to start with. Must they face it alone? Maybe, or maybe not. We don't really know. But if they choose to go it alone, they must be prepared for every obstacle ahead. Yet if they decide to face it with others, they should draw strength and inspiration from those people. Either way, they must be prepared to face the future not just for those they love, but for themselves as well."
I looked at her, surrounded by roses that matched her vibrant hair, and felt my heart warm. I hugged her tightly. "Thank you, Mother."
She laughed softly, patting my head. "What are you thanking me for? I told you I'd always help you, didn't I?" I smiled, clinging to her warmth and feeling hope spark within me.
Thanks to her, I had an idea of what to do. But I wondered, had Mother ever tried to defy her own fate?
---
Two months passed since that day in the garden. I hadn't seen much of Mother lately; she was busy managing preparations for an upcoming banquet at the manor. I'd never attended one before. At last year's banquet for Claudius's and my seventh birthday, I'd fallen ill and missed it entirely.
This time, however, I couldn't escape. Father had said it was time I made my "debut" among the noble society. Though he didn't like me, he was still unwilling to let others think poorly of him.
Sighing, I left my room and headed downstairs. As I walked, a door opened nearby, and out stepped Claudius.
He really did look every bit the main character, I thought, with his composed presence. We stared at each other briefly.
"What are you looking at?" he asked, his tone radiating irritation.
I gave him a polite smile, one that was neither too submissive nor challenging. "Nothing, brother. I just thought you looked nice today."
Claudius sneered, a hint of smugness lighting up his red eyes as he ran a hand through his smooth silver hair. "I always look good… unlike you."
His words carried a familiar sting, but I stayed calm, still smiling. "Is that so?" I thought privately, *May your hairline recede like Father's one day!*
Just thinking of my slowly balding father made me chuckle softly.
"What are you laughing at?" Claudius asked, his tone cold.
"Nothing, dear brother. Just something amusing that I remembered." Claudius gave me a look as though I were odd, and I walked past him, my spirits unexpectedly lifted.