James—or Prince Adrien, as he was now called—sat in stunned silence, staring at the maid before him. Her delicate face was full of concern as she adjusted the pillows behind him. The room, with its golden accents and plush furnishings, still felt surreal.
"This has to be a dream," James whispered to himself, clutching the silky blanket draped over him.
"Your Highness?" the maid asked softly. Her tone was warm, but her eyes were filled with unease. "Do you need me to call for the royal physician? You seem… pale."
He shook his head quickly. "N-No. That's fine. I'm fine."
The maid stepped back but didn't leave, clearly reluctant to abandon her duty. She clasped her hands in front of her, waiting for further instruction.
James tried to gather his thoughts. The details were too vivid to dismiss as a dream. The texture of the silk, the smell of fresh flowers in a vase by the window, the weight of the ornate gold ring on his finger—it was all too real. His mind raced back to the car accident, the screeching tires, the impact. Did he die? And if so… how had he ended up here, in the body of a fictional prince?
He glanced down at himself. His hands were slender, his skin pale and flawless, and his build—lean but elegant—was far from his real-life self. Even his hair, now a soft, silvery blond, fell in neat waves that framed his face perfectly.
"This… this is insane," he muttered under his breath.
"Your Highness?" The maid leaned closer, her concern deepening.
James forced a weak smile. "I just… need a moment. What's your name?" he asked, partly to buy time to think.
"Elise, Your Highness." She curtsied, her dark brown hair falling over her shoulder.
"Elise," James repeated, testing the name. "Could you… remind me what day it is?"
Elise looked puzzled but answered dutifully. "It's the 23rd day of Winter's Solace, Your Highness. The royal banquet in honor of the treaty signing is tomorrow evening."
James blinked, trying to make sense of her words. Treaty signing? Winter's Solace? He vaguely remembered details from the book but hadn't paid much attention to its world-building. Still, he couldn't let Elise know he was utterly clueless.
"Of course," he said, attempting to sound calm. "I must have hit my head harder than I thought."
Elise's eyes widened. "Shall I summon the physician after all?"
"No, really," James insisted, holding up a hand. "I just need rest."
Elise hesitated but eventually nodded. "As you wish, Your Highness. If you need anything, just ring the bell." She gestured to a small golden cord hanging by the bed.
James nodded, and Elise left the room, closing the heavy wooden door behind her. The silence that followed was deafening.
He let out a long breath and slumped back against the pillows. "Okay, James," he muttered to himself. "Think. You're stuck in a BL novel. Specifically, this novel. What do you remember?"
The story had been a slow-burn romance between Prince Adrien, the elegant and reserved heir to the throne, and Sir Damian, the brooding knight sworn to protect him. James groaned at the memory of the book's angsty drama. Adrien had spent most of the novel struggling to balance his royal duties with his growing feelings for Damian, all while navigating political intrigue and betrayals within the court.
"Great," James said sarcastically. "I'm the fragile, repressed prince. Just my luck."
He tried to recall where the story had left off before the author had gone on hiatus. As far as he remembered, the plot had been building toward a major confrontation. Adrien had discovered a plot to overthrow the monarchy, and tensions between him and Damian had reached a breaking point.
James frowned. "So… where am I in the timeline? Before the coup? After? Is Damian even around yet?"
The thought of meeting the knight made him uneasy. Damian was the quintessential BL love interest: tall, dark, and devastatingly handsome, with a protective streak that bordered on obsessive. James had swooned over him as a reader but wasn't sure how to handle him in person.
As if on cue, a knock echoed through the room.
"Your Highness?" a deep, velvety voice called from the other side of the door.
James's heart leapt into his throat. "Oh no," he whispered. "It's him."
Before he could respond, the door opened, and a man stepped inside. Damian was even more imposing in person than James had imagined. His broad shoulders filled the doorway, and his jet-black hair framed a face that looked like it had been sculpted by the gods themselves. His crimson military coat, adorned with gold accents, hinted at his rank and loyalty to the crown. But it was his piercing gray eyes that made James freeze. They were sharp and intense, as if Damian could see right through him.
"Your Highness," Damian said, bowing slightly. "I heard you were injured. Are you alright?"
James scrambled to sit up, his palms sweaty. "Y-Yes. I'm fine. Just… a little dizzy."
Damian's gaze lingered on him, and James felt like a butterfly pinned under a magnifying glass. Was it his imagination, or did Damian look concerned?
"You should be more careful," Damian said, his tone softer than James expected. "The court cannot afford to lose you."
James nodded, unsure how to respond. He'd always thought Damian's protectiveness was endearing on the page, but in person, it was overwhelming.
"I'll… try," James managed to say.
Damian stepped closer, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You seem different, Your Highness. Are you certain you're well?"
James's heart raced. Did Damian suspect something?
"I'm just tired," he said quickly. "Too much work, I suppose."
Damian studied him for a moment before nodding. "Very well. But if anything feels off, you must tell me immediately."
"Of course," James said, forcing a smile.
Damian gave a curt nod and turned to leave. "Rest well, Your Highness."
As the door closed behind him, James let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"This is going to be harder than I thought," he muttered.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his bare feet touching the cool marble floor. If he was going to survive in this world, he needed to figure out the rules—and fast.
For now, he had one goal: avoid becoming entangled in the book's romance plot at all costs.
But deep down, James had a sinking feeling it wasn't going to be that simple.