Dim lights. An unfamiliar scent. And the soft luxury of a bed far more comfortable than anything Lucias had ever known. His eyes fluttered open, taking in the unfamiliar ceiling. For a fleeting moment, the comfort lulled him, making him forget the events that led to his loss of consciousness.
The door creaked open, and an elderly man with neatly combed gray hair, dressed in a sleek, immaculate suit, entered. He looked like a servant pulled straight out of a fantasy novel, carrying a tray with a teapot and glass. The old man bowed slightly before setting the tray on the table beside the bed.
"Good morning, my Lord," the man said, his voice soft, polished with respect. He moved toward the window and drew back the heavy curtains, letting the morning sunlight flood the room.
Lucias winced, raising his hand to shield his eyes from the sudden brightness. Sensing his discomfort, the butler quickly offered an apology, though there was a flicker of amusement in his gaze.
"My apologies for the light, my Lord," the butler said with a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
But then, the next words from the old man's mouth sent a chill down Lucias' spine.
"Lord Seth."
Lucias froze. The name echoed in his mind—Lord Seth. His heart pounded in his chest as the name stirred memories of a story he had once read. He sat up abruptly, the last remnants of grogginess chased away by disbelief.
"What did you just call me?" he demanded, his voice shaky.
The butler blinked, puzzled by the question. "Lord Seth, my Lord," he repeated, this time with more certainty.
Hearing it again, Lucias' pulse quickened. He threw off the blankets and jumped from the bed, panic clawing at the edges of his mind. He stumbled toward the large window, pushing open the doors that led to a balcony. The view was breathtaking—sprawling mountains, birds chirping in the crisp morning air. A cold breeze stung his face, snapping him back to reality.
He stepped back into the room, his thoughts racing. "A mirror," he demanded, his voice strained.
The butler, still confused by his master's erratic behavior, handed him a small hand mirror without a word. Lucias snatched it and stared into the glass. His stomach dropped.
It wasn't his own reflection staring back at him.
It was Lord Seth—the villainous baron from the novel, with his snow-white hair, glowing red eyes, and skin as pale as death. It wasn't him at all.
Of all the characters… why him?
"Why did it have to be Seth?" he muttered under his breath, his heart pounding.
Turning to the butler, his voice wavered as he asked, "What year is it?"
"Today is the 23rd of July, Year 1455, in the Bern Kingdom's calendar," the butler replied, his tone steady but tinged with concern.
Lucias swore quietly under his breath, causing the butler to blink in surprise. Clearing his throat, the old man asked, "Shall I prepare your usual, my Lord? Rosemarie tea, brewed just the way you like it."
The mention of the tea—another detail from the novel—made Lucias nod without thinking. When the butler handed him the cup, the familiar sweet fragrance filled the air. Lucias took a sip, the delicate blend of tea and sugar settling pleasantly on his tongue.
"This is delicious," he murmured absentmindedly.
The butler's eyes widened, barely able to hide his shock. "Delicious?" he echoed, as though the word itself was unfamiliar. In all his years serving Lord Seth, never had he heard such a compliment.
Realizing his slip, Lucias—now Seth—quickly scowled and let the cup fall from his hand, sending tea spilling across the carpet. "No, this is garbage. Terrible. Take it away."
The butler, masking his surprise, swiftly cleaned up the mess. "Of course, my Lord. Would you prefer breakfast in bed or in the dining room?"
"In bed," Lucias replied, slipping back into Seth's arrogant tone, determined to maintain his cover. "Bring it here."
The butler bowed slightly, visibly relieved that his master's behavior had returned to its usual coldness. "Very well, my Lord. I will bring your breakfast shortly."
Once alone, Lucias stepped back onto the balcony, letting the cold air clear his mind. The realization hit him hard: he was inside Lord Seth's body, inside his castle—the indomitable fortress of Arlecia. In five years, this very land would be overrun by demons, with a red portal connecting the underworld to this world, according to the novel's timeline.
But now, none of that mattered.
I'm here now, Lucias thought, clenching his fists. And that changes everything.
He knew what needed to be done to prepare for the invasion. But that wasn't the only problem. He had to ensure the hero of the story—the protagonist—wouldn't kill him. Worse yet, he had to recruit the protagonist to his side. The real Seth had given the hero plenty of reasons to hate him—starving the people, reveling in their suffering. Changing that reputation wouldn't be easy.
Returning to the room, Seth straightened his posture, determination setting in. He needed to start making small changes and let the rumors of his "kindness" slowly spread throughout the castle.
Time to stir things up, he thought, a sly smirk forming as he stepped into the hallway.
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The castle was far grander than Lucias had imagined from the novel's descriptions. He wandered its labyrinthine corridors, frustration building as he tried and failed to find the dining room.
As he rounded a corner, he collided with something soft. A startled cry rang out, followed by a thud as a young maid hit the ground, her basket of laundry spilling across the floor.
She gasped in pain, her eyes wide with terror when she saw who she had bumped into. Panic swept across her face as she immediately dropped to her knees, trembling.
"Please, my Lord, forgive me!" she stammered, her voice shaking. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her hands quivered as she pressed them against the floor. I don't want to die. Please.
She offered her trembling left hand. "Take my hand, my Lord, instead of my life."
Lucias—Seth—stood frozen, taken aback by the overwhelming fear in her eyes. What did Seth do to make people this afraid of him? he wondered, a sick feeling coiling in his gut.
Clearing his throat, he tried to mask his shock. "Stand up," he ordered.
The maid obeyed instantly, snapping to her feet as if she had been trained for this moment. She extended her hand again, eyes tightly shut, bracing for punishment. Seth stared at her, horrified. She was offering her hand, expecting to be hit—an act that spoke volumes about the cruelty she had endured under the real Seth.
"Look at me," he said, his tone softening.
Her eyes fluttered open, though she dared not meet his gaze. His red eyes gleamed in the morning light, their intensity unnerving.
"Lead me to the dining room," Seth commanded, his voice calm but firm. "If you want to avoid punishment, do as I say."
Relief washed over the maid's face, and she collapsed to the ground once more, tears brimming in her eyes. "Thank you, my Lord," she whispered, bowing deeply.
She quickly gathered the spilled laundry and led Seth through the winding halls toward the dining room.
Unbeknownst to them, Royfield, the old butler, watched from the shadows. There was something strange about his master's behavior today. Something off. The Seth he knew would never have spared a servant for such a mistake. But Royfield kept his suspicions to himself, retreating silently into the darkness.
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When Seth entered the dining room, the atmosphere shifted. The servants, clearly unprepared for his arrival, scrambled into position, their faces betraying shock.
An older maid, likely the head of the household staff, cautiously approached Seth. Her words were respectful, but the barely concealed grudge in her eyes spoke volumes.
Seth chose to ignore it, for now. "Prepare my usual," he ordered, his voice cutting through the room.
The servants rushed to obey. Royfield appeared in the doorway, greeting Seth with his usual cold formality.
Seth narrowed his eyes, watching the butler closely. He knew Royfield well—knew the old man was likely underestimating him, not realizing just how much Seth remembered from the novel.
Locking eyes with the butler, Seth smiled cordially. "I've changed my mind. I'll dine here today. I want to observe how the household is being managed."
His gaze swept over the room. "It seems there's been… mismanagement with the staff."
His eyes landed on the older maid who had greeted him earlier. "I expect discipline and order," he added, a smirk creeping across his face—a look that, to everyone else, seemed menacing, but to Seth, it felt perfectly natural.
The old maid bowed deeply. "As you command, my Lord."
Royfield leaned in slightly, his voice barely audible. "It seems you've found a new interest, my Lord."
Seth smirked. "Yes. I've discovered a new hobby."
Royfield's lips curled into a knowing smile, but the servants exchanged nervous glances. They all prayed silently, hoping none of them would become the target of their lord's latest "hobby," fully aware of the horrors that usually followed.