Dim lights. A faint scent of lavender. The sensation of luxurious sheets caressing his skin. Lucias slowly opened his eyes, squinting at the unfamiliar ceiling above. For a moment, comfort wrapped around him, soothing away memories of agony and death.
The gentle creak of a door broke his reverie. An elderly man entered, silver hair neatly combed, posture impeccably upright, dressed in a tailored black suit. He placed a tray, bearing an ornate teapot and cup, delicately on a nearby table and bowed respectfully.
"Good morning, my Lord," the servant greeted, his tone polite yet distant. Crossing the room, he smoothly drew back the heavy curtains, bathing the chamber in dazzling sunlight.
Lucias shielded his eyes reflexively, wincing at the sharp intrusion.
"Forgive me, my Lord," the servant murmured, a ghost of amusement dancing in his eyes. "The sunlight today is particularly bright."
But his next words made Lucias' blood freeze.
"Lord Seth."
Lucias bolted upright, heart hammering painfully in his chest. Seth—the name echoed ominously. Memories surged forth; the villainous noble from the novel he cherished, fated to die tragically.
"What did you call me?" he demanded shakily.
The servant raised an eyebrow, concern flickering across his composed features. "Lord Seth, my Lord."
Panic set in, banishing his fatigue. Lucias stumbled from the bed, racing to open the balcony doors. The sprawling landscape greeted him—vast mountains cloaked in morning mist, birdsong filling the cool air. The chill snapped Lucias sharply back into reality.
He spun around, eyes wild. "A mirror, now!"
The servant, visibly perplexed, obeyed swiftly, handing him a silver-handled mirror. Lucias snatched it, heart sinking as he stared at the unfamiliar reflection: ghostly pale skin, striking crimson eyes, hair as white as freshly fallen snow.
It was undeniably Seth, the villain destined for doom.
"Why him...?" Lucias whispered bitterly.
Turning urgently, he questioned, voice hoarse, "What year is it?"
"The 23rd of July, Year 1455, in the Bern Kingdom's calendar," the servant replied steadily, although wary of his master's erratic behavior.
Lucias cursed softly under his breath, running a hand anxiously through Seth's pale hair. His mind spun, calculating timelines from the novel. Five years until this castle—his castle—fell to demons.
"Would you prefer your usual Rosemarie tea, my Lord?" the servant asked gently.
Lucias nodded absentmindedly, caught off guard. When handed the cup, he sipped instinctively, savoring the sweet, delicate flavor.
"This…is delicious," he murmured thoughtlessly.
Shock flickered across the servant's face. "Delicious, my Lord?"
Lucias stiffened, realizing his mistake. Quickly, he scowled, letting the cup tumble carelessly from his fingers, tea staining the rich carpet below. "No, this is terrible! Remove it immediately."
The servant, expertly masking his surprise, swiftly cleaned up the spill. "Shall breakfast be served here or in the dining hall?"
"Here," Lucias responded curtly, slipping effortlessly into Seth's arrogant demeanor. The servant bowed and left without another word.
Lucias stepped back onto the balcony, the cold air steadying his nerves. Determination began forming within him. He knew precisely what would come next—an invasion, betrayal, and eventually, death by the protagonist's sword.
But now, he had a chance to rewrite that fate.
"I won't die so easily this time," he vowed softly to himself, crimson eyes sharpening with newfound resolve.
Lucias changed his mind to eat in the bedroom.
------
Navigating the castle proved far more difficult than he'd imagined from the novel's descriptions. He wandered the sprawling corridors, frustration rising with each unfamiliar passage.
Turning a sharp corner, Lucias collided unexpectedly with a soft, startled figure. A young maid stumbled back, landing painfully on the floor, linens scattering around her.
Fear flooded her face immediately. Trembling, she knelt hastily, head bowed, voice pleading, "Forgive me, my Lord! Spare my life! Take my hand instead—"
Her terror froze Lucias in place, nausea twisting his stomach at the sight of genuine panic in her eyes. "Stand up," he ordered softly.
She instantly obeyed, extending her trembling hand, eyes tightly closed in fearful anticipation of punishment.
"Look at me," Lucias instructed gently.
Her eyes opened hesitantly, still refusing to meet his gaze directly. Seeing her deep-rooted fear only amplified his dread. What had Seth done to inspire such terror?
"Guide me to the dining hall," he commanded calmly, "and I will overlook this mistake."
Relief broke across her face, tears welling in gratitude. "Thank you, my Lord!"
She quickly gathered the laundry and led him onward. Hidden within the shadows, the elderly servant Royfield watched silently, suspicion flickering in his narrowed gaze.
------
Lucias entered the dining room, instantly silencing the bustling servants. Shock spread visibly through their ranks. The senior maid cautiously approached, her posture respectful yet her gaze barely masking resentment.
Ignoring the hostility, Lucias ordered coolly, "Prepare my usual."
Royfield appeared at the doorway, observing closely. Lucias met his calculating eyes, offering a small smirk.
"Today, I'll dine here," Lucias announced, authority saturating his voice. "I intend to inspect how this household is run."
The servants exchanged anxious glances. Royfield leaned in subtly. "You've taken a sudden interest, my Lord."
Lucias smiled enigmatically, a glint of cunning in his crimson eyes. "Yes. I've developed a new hobby."
A tense silence settled upon the room as servants discreetly avoided his gaze, silently praying not to become victims of their master's new 'interest.'
"My little cub is behaving quite strangely," Royfield mused quietly to himself, a guarded smile playing upon his lips.