When light pierced through Cassian's eyelids, he winced and blocked it using his hand. But before he slipped into his slumber, he snapped open his eyes and locked them on a pale, calloused teenage hand. Jerking upright, he lifted his ivory silk pajamas, exposing a toned stomach marred by several jagged scars. The wound was gone, and so was the pain.
Letting go of his clothes, he ran his fingers through his hair and sighed in resignation. It took less than a second for him to make out his situation. "So, I really have become Cassian, huh?"
If he remembered correctly, Cassian was Julius' half-brother, and both were princes—heirs to the throne of the Solairé Empire. They were two years apart, with Julius being the firstborn. However, the information about Cassian was scarce as he had already been dead long before the novel began—he was fated to die at the protagonist's hands, Julius.
'But… why did he save him?'
Silence lingered in the air as nothing came to mind.
Dismissing the question, he took in the surroundings, realizing he was in an unfamiliar, grand European-style room adorned with luxurious baroque furniture. Sunlight streamed through the open arched windows lining the wall, bathing the backgrounds in a warm, golden glow.
Fixing his sight on one of the open arched windows, he swung his legs off the bed and strode toward it. However, the sound of door creaked open halted his steps, drawing his attention to an elderly butler entering the room.
Locking eyes with him, the man froze in the doorway, his grey eyes widening in shock. "Your Highness…?" he stammered before whirling around and urgently bellowing, "His Highness has awakened! Summon the physician and inform Their Majesties immediately!"
"We understand!" Following the order, the maids behind the door commenced running.
The man turned and dashed toward him. "Your Highness, please refrain from exerting yourself," he said, extending his hand. "Let us return to your bed."
Cassian stared at the outstretched hand before meeting the old man's gaze. "Who are you?"
"P-pardon?" He stuttered, utterly perplexed.
"Who are you?" Cassian repeated.
Yet, instead of providing an answer, the man looked at him in astonishment as if he'd seen the sun rise from the west. His mouth opened and closed like a fish coming out of water.
"Her Majesty the Empress is entering!" a blaring voice interjected, shifting their attention to the entrance.
A blonde-haired woman in a fancy gown, trailed by several ladies-in-waiting, rushed in their direction. Her bloodshot cerulean eyes brimmed with unshed tears, relief etched on her features. The elderly butler bowed respectfully and stepped aside. Holding her gaze, a whirlwind of emotions stirred within him, though he couldn't grasp the cause.
When his vision flickered out of focus, Cassian's brow furrowed. "Huh?"
"Argh!" A sudden bolt of searing pain pierced through his skull, forcing him to grip his head tightly and drop to his knees.
"…ian! Cassian!" A woman's desperate, trembling cry rang out before the cacophony of distorted voices gobbled it.
He tried to suppress the pain, but the harder he fought it, the more his head pounded. His chest tightened, and his breath grew shallow, sweat beading on his skin. Before he could fully process what was happening, a blinding light flashed into his eyes, engulfing everything in white and washing away the pain. Thus, the world went mute, and he felt like floating in the air.
"Cassian?" The previous voice echoed amidst the brilliance. However, unlike before, her voice was soft and soothing.
The moment the light receded, he found himself in the midst of a grand parade, basking under the warm sunlight. Jubilant cheers of the crowd blended with the lively music filling the air as he sat high in a luxurious open carriage drawn by four majestic horses. Gliding through a sea of smiling faces, the confetti danced around him; vibrant banners fluttered in the breeze.
Confusion clouded his mind at the abrupt shift in reality. Even so, the scene before him felt oddly familiar—like déjà vu. In contrast to the euphoric atmosphere surrounding him, a chilling tide of fear crept into his mind, and his heart raced like crazy.
'I… can't move my body…'
No matter how much he tried, his body refused to respond. He couldn't move or speak—he had no control over Cassian's body, as if he existed only to witness everything unfold.
"Cassian?" the voice called again, prompting Cassian to turn to find the Empress smiling tenderly at him. Seated beside his son, she wore an elegant peach dress with glamorous accessories that befitted her status.
She reached out and ran her fingers gently through Cassian's hair, "Does this festivity bore you? You seem to lapse into drowsiness."
Cassian shook his head. "No, it's just—"
"Neigh!" a deafening whinny seized their attention. They whirled around—only to see the horses were already upon them. Before Cassian could react, a tremendous force slammed into his body, hurling him backward.
"Urk!" Cassian's body crashed against the cobblestone floor; blood jumped out from his mouth. The world spun relentlessly as his body tumbled across the road. Coming to a full stop, Cassian lay sprawled on the ground, his body trembling, and his vision flickered like scattered fireflies, the sounds muffled and distant.
"…ian! …help! Physician!" Julius' distressed voice cut through the turmoil while lifting Cassian into his arms.
Slowly regaining his senses, Cassian blinked rapidly to clear his hazy eyes. However, the first thing he saw caused him to widen his eyes, and his heart plummeted.
"N-no…" Cassian's voice croaked.
In the distance, the Empress lay limp in the white-haired man's embrace, a shard of wood lanced through her heart. Blood drenched her dress and pooled beneath them.
Tears burst from Cassian's eyes. "Mo… ther…" His trembling hand outstretched, trying to grasp his mother, only for it to fall helplessly on the ground.
Overwhelmed by the great shock, Cassian's chest heaved wildly as he gasped for air. The world began to tilt along with his consciousness, and the scene faded into darkness.
"…something!"
"…the Prince…"
"…in pain…!"
"…memories… trauma…"
When the chaos of jumbled voices pricked his ears, he fluttered his eyes open, only to be met by a kaleidoscope sight. His mind felt sluggish, and his body was slick in sweat. He tried to lift one of his fingers, and relief washed over him, knowing he had regained control of Cassian's body. The experience of being reduced to nothing more than a helpless soul traumatized him—he never wanted to go through that again.
However, a question popped in: if he possessed Cassian's body, where did the real soul go? Was he dead…? Or could 'the real' Cassian be enduring the same experience he had before?
A bad taste permeated his mouth, compelling him to shove the thoughts aside. Turning toward the noises beside his bed, he saw the Empress and an old man in a white robe—who reminded him of Gandalf—engaged in a heated discussion. Nevertheless, a flicker of unexplainable catharsis arose upon realizing the Empress was unharmed.
Sitting upright, Cassian held his head as dizziness struck him. When the stillness abruptly descended, he glanced sideways and found everyone present staring at him.
"Ian…" the Empress' face contorted in relief, tears cascading down her cheeks. Without warning, she threw herself and wrapped him in a tight embrace. Burying her face in his shoulder, wrenching sobs escaped her.
"My dear… My son…" her voice quivered with emotions.
Cassian felt conflicted, unsure of what to do—he had never been in this kind of situation. But, for certainty, his heart ached to see her weeping like this. Was Cassian's emotion messing up with him? After all, he had no reason to feel such great sorrow for someone he had just met.
After battling with hesitation, Cassian cradled her in his arms and gently patted her back. "Please cease your tears. I am well."
Yet, instead of stopping, her tears flowed relentlessly. Sobs filled the room as she tightened her grip on his clothes, her hands trembling. The guilt that had been gnawing at him now twisted into something deeper, heavier. She… deserved the love of her real son, not the hollow comfort of a stranger in borrowed skin.
"His Majesty the Emperor, His Highness Prince Julius, and Lord Samuel of the Silverfall are entering!" a voice reverberated into the room, grabbing everyone's attention.
Seven figures entered Cassian's chamber, prompting everyone present to bow and curtsey respectfully. Leading the group was a middle-aged man with short white hair and crimson eyes, followed by a man with light brown hair and eyes, with Julius beside him. All wore clothing that screamed of their high social standing. Four knights shadowed behind them. Upon their arrival, the six of them, excluding the white-haired man—presumably the Emperor—bowed reverently toward the Empress.
The Emperor fixated on the crying Empress before turning to the physician. "How fares my son?"
"His Highness has been stabilized. However, as a result of the traumatic event, Prince Cassian appears to have suffered amnesia—"
"What?! How is that possible?!" Julius exclaimed, disbelief lacing his voice and features.
The Emperor raised his hand, signaling Julius not to interfere, "Can you devise a solution?"
The Physician shook his head apologetically, "I fear such a feat is beyond my capability. While blood manipulation can, indeed, hasten the healing process, memories reside in the mind, not the blood, and cannot be mended by physical means."
"…I see," the Emperor murmured thoughtfully, his hands clenched tightly.
"How can this be…?" Julius muttered, barely audible.
Julius glanced at him, frustration painted his face, teetering on the edge of fear. But he couldn't tell whether it was genuine or just an act. Suddenly, Julius' figure was obscured as the Emperor approached.
Sitting beside the Empress, he offered him a warm smile and gently stroked his hair, "Fear not. All will be well. Your memory shall return shortly."
With the last sob, the Empress released him and wiped away her tears. Rising to her feet, she faced the Emperor with an indifferent demeanour. "Cassian must rest. Please, return."
Silence. The Emperor didn't say a word and just stared at his wife with an indescribable expression. The atmosphere grew dramatically heavy and suffocating with tension as their eyes remained locked.
People exchanged nervous glances; of course, they weren't foolish enough to miss the simmering rage beneath the surface. Though Cassian didn't know the inside story, he could tell it was far from trivial.
After what felt like an eternity, the Emperor eventually broke the silence with a long and deep sigh. Standing before her and staring fearlessly into her cerulean eyes, he spoke with an icy tone, "My wife is right, Cassian must rest."
The Emperor cast a last glance at him before marching toward the entrance. Those present instinctively bowed as he passed while two knights quickly positioned themselves behind him.
Julius—whose eyes still lingered on him—stepped forward and mustered a strained smile, asking apprehensively, "Dear brother, is there a chance you might… remember me?"
He held his gaze apathetically before shaking his head. "I apologize, but I'm only familiar with your name."
Julius froze, disbelief dyed his face as though the world crumbled, "I… I see." After a brief pause, he forced a smile, "Then, we wish you a swift recovery, my dear brother. Please, rest well and recuperate."
Cassian nodded curtly, "Thank you."
With a final bow toward the Empress, Julius and Samuel, accompanied by their knights, made their way to the entrance. Julius cast him one worried glance before vanishing behind the door. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but click his tongue inwardly, had he not read the novel before being thrown into this world, he might have undoubtedly believed Julius was a truly caring brother.
The Empress turned to the elderly butler. "Sanchez, please prepare a basin of warm water for my son's bath."
"As you wish, Your Majesty. Is there anything else you require?"
While the Empress conversed with Sanchez and the physician, his mind drifted back to the glimpse he had seen. Given the severity of the Empress' wound, she was unquestionably dead on the spot. Yet, here she stood, alive and well, so it couldn't have been a recollection of Cassian's memories. This left only one conclusion: it was a vision of the future.
If that was the case, then it perfectly aligned with the storyline: just like her son, the Empress also died before the novel began. But… why did he suddenly see a sight of the future? An Extra like him, no less? Not only that, but the fact that he couldn't control Cassian's body during the vision—did that mean the real Cassian would eventually regain control of this body, leaving his soul trapped inside?
He clutched his head at the surge of unbearable headache. As if being thrown into the world of the novel and fated to be killed by his half-brother wasn't bad enough, now he had to contend with the soul of 'the real' Cassian. Whether Julius ended his life or his body was overtaken, it seemed he was destined to perish either way, huh?