Chapter 2: A Genius Gambit
The chains were still heavy on my wrists as the guards dragged me into the dungeons beneath the royal palace. The grand courtroom above was a world of opulence and light; down here, it was the exact opposite. The air was damp, cold, and stank of mildew. Water dripped rhythmically from the ceiling, echoing in the otherwise oppressive silence.
My cell was at the far end of the corridor, past rows of empty cages lined with rusted iron bars. The guards shoved me inside without ceremony, and I stumbled, catching myself on the wall.
"Enjoy your last days, traitor," one of them sneered before slamming the door shut. The clang of the lock sliding into place reverberated through the space.
I slumped onto the damp stone bench that served as the cell's only furniture. My mind raced as I tried to make sense of what had just happened.
Three days. That was all the time I had to avoid execution. And what had I promised the Crown Prince? That I'd prove my innocence? That I'd uncover a vast conspiracy?
Easy to say in a courtroom full of judgmental nobles. Much harder when I had no idea where to even start.
I needed a plan.
First, I forced myself to focus on what I knew.
Lady Aria Valcrest, the female lead of The Crimson Bloom, was dead. She was supposed to be the heart of the story—the woman who healed the kingdom's fractures, inspired the male leads to unite, and brought peace to a world on the brink of collapse. Without her, the entire plot had effectively fallen apart.
And I, Maxwell Erenhart, was being blamed for her death.
The memories of how I got here were still hazy, like a half-remembered dream. It was frustrating—like staring at a puzzle with missing pieces. I couldn't even remember what Maxwell had been doing before this disaster struck.
But one thing was certain: whoever killed Aria didn't just want her dead. They wanted me to take the fall for it.
Why? That was the question. Maxwell Erenhart was a minor villain in the original story—a petty schemer who served as little more than a stepping stone for the heroine and her love interests. He wasn't important enough to be framed for something of this magnitude.
Unless...
I sat up straight, my chains rattling.
Unless someone wanted to use my death as a distraction.
Killing Aria would throw the kingdom into turmoil. She wasn't just a noblewoman—she was the daughter of the Duke of Valcrest, one of the most powerful men in the kingdom. Her death would spark political chaos, and all eyes would turn to me, the so-called "villain," as the obvious culprit.
Which meant the real killer could be hiding in plain sight, exploiting the chaos they'd created.
That thought sent a chill down my spine.
If I wanted to survive, I needed to find the killer. Not just for my sake, but because leaving them unchecked would only lead to more destruction.
But how?
I tugged at the chains around my wrists, frustration bubbling in my chest. I didn't have allies. I didn't have resources. Hell, I didn't even have my old life's comfortable anonymity to fall back on.
What I did have, however, was my mind.
Back in my world, I'd built a reputation as a genius strategist—someone who could dismantle even the most complex problems with logic and precision. This world might be unfamiliar, but the principles of strategy were universal.
The first rule of strategy: Identify the pieces on the board.
I began cataloging everything I could remember about The Crimson Bloom.
The key players were the love interests:
1. Crown Prince Alaric Claudren, the cold and calculating heir to the throne. Ruthless but fair, he was supposed to grow into a compassionate leader under Aria's influence. Now, without her, that growth might never happen.
2. Damien Valcrest, Aria's hot-headed but fiercely loyal childhood friend. He was the son of the Duke of Valcrest and her most devoted protector. If anyone would be driven to uncover the truth about her death, it would be him.
3. Leon Marchant, the enigmatic mage from the Academy. A prodigy in magic and an outsider to the political world, Leon had always been the wildcard of the story. His unpredictable nature made him both dangerous and useful.
There were other characters, of course, but these three were the core. If I could manipulate them correctly, I might be able to turn them into allies—or at least pawns.
The second rule of strategy: Create opportunities where none exist.
To do that, I needed leverage. Information, favors, something I could use to shift the balance of power.
But first, I needed to get out of this cell.
I stood and paced the small space, studying the bars, the walls, the lock on the door. The cell wasn't impenetrable, but brute force wasn't an option. Maxwell's body wasn't exactly built for physical strength, and the guards would notice any escape attempt in minutes.
No, I needed something subtler.
I crouched down and examined the floor. The stones were damp and uneven, with moss growing in the cracks. One of the stones near the corner seemed loose. I pried it up with my fingers, wincing as the rough edges scraped my skin.
Beneath the stone was a tiny hollow space, just large enough to hide something small. Unfortunately, it was empty.
I let out a frustrated sigh. Not that I'd expected to find a hidden key or a miraculous escape tool, but it had been worth checking.
I replaced the stone and leaned back against the wall, closing my eyes.
The third rule of strategy: Turn the enemy's strengths into weaknesses.
The guards, the chains, the dungeons themselves—they were all meant to keep me trapped. But if I could find a way to use them against my captors...
A plan began to form in my mind, tentative but promising.
I needed to stage a performance. Something that would convince the guards—or better yet, the prince himself—that keeping me alive was in their best interest.
It was risky, but risks were part of the game.
I smiled to myself, the faintest flicker of confidence returning.
Three days. It wasn't much time, but it was enough.
I'd been thrown into this world as a so-called villain, but that didn't matter. Villains could still win.
And I had no intention of losing.
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