I awoke to the sound of hushed voices, the scent of herbs and beeswax filling my senses. The dimly lit room was furnished with heavy wooden furniture – a large, four-poster bed draped with dark velvet, a worn oak chest, and a small table holding a bowl of fresh herbs. A tall, arched window crafted of thick, stained glass cast a kaleidoscope of colors upon the stone walls. A flickering oil lamp perched on a nearby bracket cast long, dancing shadows across the room, creating an atmosphere both comforting and unsettling. It was the infirmary of the Royal Academy of Atharia, a grand edifice built of rough-hewn stone and adorned with gargoyles and coats of arms, it whispered of a past steeped in tradition and power. The Academy was a place not only of learning but of lineage, a breeding ground for future generations of Royals, Dukes, and Duchesses. While the Academy itself exuded an air of opulence, the infirmary maintained a simple, practical elegance, befitting its function. It was a place of healing, not indulgence.
The figure looming over me wore a long, dark robe, the hood pulled low, its features obscured by a pale blue mask, a common sight in these medieval times of pestilence and plague. "He's awake!" the figure announced, their voice echoing in the small chamber. A few more figures materialized, similarly robed and masked, their faces hidden in shadows.
The room swam around me as I tried to focus. I was in the infirmary, the whispers of the courtyard a distant memory. As I regained consciousness, the memories of the incident with Indraneel flooded back, the accusations, the scorn, the fear. My mind flashed back to his words, his accusing gaze as he declared, "He's always been a liar," and the image of his disdainful face. My heart pounded in my chest, and a cold dread settled in my stomach. He was accusing me again, of bullying Elian, the same accusations that had plagued me in my past life, a haunting echo that wouldn't let me escape.
It was then that I realized the truth, the horrifying truth, of my situation. I was no longer myself, I was Quincey, the third son of the House of Craus, a name synonymous with arrogance and cruelty, a name that whispered of countless acts of violence and malice. And now, this body, this vessel, was carrying the weight of those sins, the burden of a reputation I hadn't earned but was nevertheless destined to bear.
The image of Quincey, the man he was in his past life, flashed before my eyes. The twisted pleasure he took in tormenting others, his relentless pursuit of the Crown Prince's attention, even if it meant inflicting pain and suffering upon others. I had no choice but to accept the crown prince's accusations. This was my reality now, and I knew, with a sinking heart, that I had to find a way to survive this, to find a way to make amends for the sins of this body, to prove my innocence in this unfamiliar world.
But there was a part of me, a lingering remnant of my old life, that whisper of a truth I couldn't ignore. The image of a cruel, vindictive Quincey flashed before my eyes. The image of Elian, with his gentle spirit and innocent heart, was a target for Quincey's relentless bullying. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, a terrifying confirmation of the villainous character that resided within this very body.
"Quincey," Adrien's voice, gentle and reassuring, broke through the turmoil in my mind. "How do you feel?"
"I am fine, my Lord." My voice felt foreign, rough around the edges, a stark contrast to the smoother tones I was accustomed to.
"I apologize," Adrien said, his features softening. "I'm still getting used to this whole... being a new student thing. I didn't even ask for your name." He seemed genuinely embarrassed.
"Quincey," I replied, my voice a little steadier now. "Quincey Craus."
"Adrien," he offered with a slight bow. "Adrien Régis François."
Adrien seemed to hesitate for a moment, his gaze lingering on me. "Indraneel," he finally said, his voice softer now. "He seemed... very angry. He mentioned something about you often bullying Elian."
I swallowed, the silence stretching between us. My past life, a tapestry of cruelty and violence, began to unravel in my mind. The memories came flooding back, but they felt distant, like watching a play unfold on a stage. Taunts hurled at Elian, cruel pranks, stolen belongings, and the satisfaction of seeing him flinch under my gaze. It was all done by Quincey, the original owner of this body, a person I had never been. He had done it to gain the fleeting attention of the Crown Prince. I had nothing to do with it, but the weight of his actions now rested upon me, the sins of the past now mine to carry. I was Quincey, and I had to accept the consequences of his actions, even if they were not my own.
"It's true," I admitted, my voice barely whispering. "I... I bullied Elian. I was... I was a fool." I just admitted that since I can't refute it, it's already been done.
Adrien's brows furrowed in concern. "What's the nature of your... relationship with him?" he asked, his voice a soft murmur. The question hung heavy in the air.
"An arranged marriage," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "A political alliance, as the third son of the house of Craus, I am obligated to serve the crown. It is what I want but that's before I woke up from my delusions." The words felt like a lead weight in my chest, a reminder of the chains that bound me to this life of forced duty and hollow obligation.
Adrien's gaze softened, and I saw a flicker of pity in his eyes, a recognition of the burden I carried. "Ah," he seemed to understand. "Indraneel is overly protective of Elian. It's widely known at the Academy that they are lovers. Perhaps that's why he reacted so strongly." He seemed to choose his words carefully, a hint of sympathy in his eyes. "It's probably nothing to worry about."
I studied Adrien, his face etched with concern, his gaze unwavering. I could see that he, too, felt the weight of Indraneel's animosity, but his words were an anchor, offering a semblance of security amidst the turmoil.
"Thank you," I whispered, a wave of gratitude washing over me. Despite everything, a faint flicker of hope began to bloom in my heart.
"It's getting late," Adrien said, glancing at the window where the last rays of sunlight were fading. "I should head back to my chambers. You need to rest, Quincey." He hesitated for a moment, as if unsure of whether to say more.
"Rest," I repeated, the word feeling alien on my tongue. "I suppose that's what I should do."
Adrien gave me a small smile, a gesture of encouragement. "I'll see you around, Quincey," he said, and with that, he turned and left the infirmary, his footsteps fading into the quiet of the evening. I watched him go, the weight of my past and the uncertainties of my future settling upon me.
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The door creaked open, and a tall figure draped in a dark robe entered.
"How are you feeling, Quincey?" The voice, despite the mask, held a reassuring warmth. It was the Academy doctor.
"I am alright, Doctor," I said, attempting to smile. "Slightly disoriented, but I am slowly regaining my strength."
The doctor, his masked face etched with concern, nodded.
"You seem... troubled, Quincey. Are you sure you are alright? You fainted earlier, and I saw how your hands trembled as you spoke."
"It is nothing, Doctor," I assured him. "Just a bit of a headache, I suppose. I am sure I will be fine."
"No, my boy, you are not alright," he said, his voice firm, his eyes peering through the mask with a knowing gaze. "Your body has clearly been under great stress. Your faint was no mere headache. You must try to relax and avoid whatever has caused you such distress, or you will find yourself in this very infirmary again. Remember, Quincey, your body and your mind are connected. Rest, and take care of yourself."
"You are right, Doctor," I said, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. "I should rest. Thank you."
"I will escort you to your chambers," the doctor said, his voice kind. "You seem a bit lost, and it's getting late."
I felt a jolt of panic. "My chambers?" I said, a wave of confusion flooding me. "I... I don't recall where they are. The events earlier... I fainted after that and didn't have the time to take in where my rooms were. "
The doctor nodded understandingly. "It's alright, Quincey. We all have our moments of forgetfulness. Come, let me show you the way."
The doctor led me through the labyrinthine corridors of the Academy, his footsteps echoing softly on the stone floors. We passed by classrooms buzzing with activity, courtyards teeming with students, and grand halls filled with portraits of past dignitaries. Finally, we arrived at a heavy oak door, the intricate carvings on its surface depicting scenes of chivalry and battle. The doctor pushed the door open, and I stepped into my chambers.
I gasped, startled by the sheer size of the room. It was far grander than I had imagined, the walls lined with tall windows that offered sweeping views of the Academy's inner courtyard, a bustling hub of activity. The furniture, crafted from dark oak and inlaid with intricate patterns of silver and ivory, was both elegant and imposing. But what truly captivated me was the color scheme. The walls were painted in a soft, muted green, a shade that mirrored the rolling hills of my family estate. The drapes were a deep emerald green, the carpets were woven with intricate green patterns, and even the throw pillows on the plush velvet couches were accented with a delicate green trim. The room was laced with shades of green, creating a calming ambiance that seemed to speak to my very soul. As I stepped into the room, it was as if I had walked into a sanctuary, a place made for me, tailored to my tastes and my needs. The very air of the room felt familiar, bringing back memories of my childhood, the scent of pine and damp earth, and the sound of birdsong echoing through the forest.
I felt a sense of relief, a feeling of belonging. Perhaps this was not a prison, but a haven.
"Your room is quite spacious, isn't it?" the doctor said, his voice tinged with amusement. "You'll have plenty of space for your books and your studies. And you'll notice that all the furniture has been chosen with your comfort in mind."
I felt a blush creep up my cheeks. "I didn't know..." I stammered, my heart suddenly filled with gratitude. "I was expecting to share it with someone."
The doctor chuckled. "Not at all, my boy. You have your own chambers, all to yourself. And you don't have to worry about sharing your belongings with anyone." He paused, his gaze softening. "The headmaster has made sure you have everything you need. He is truly interested in your progress."
"The headmaster?" I asked, my curiosity piqued. "Why would he care about me? I am a nobody, a third son, a nuisance to the house of Craus."
The doctor smiled, his eyes twinkling through the mask. "That is a story for another time, Quincey. For now, you need rest. Tomorrow, you will be able to explore the Academy, meet your classmates, and perhaps even learn about your new role."
"Role?" I echoed, confused. "What role?"
The doctor simply chuckled and bowed his head. "Rest now, Quincey. The Academy awaits."
With that, he left me alone in my chambers, the silence heavy with unspoken questions. The room seemed to hum with a subtle energy, a promise of both danger and opportunity. My past life, with all its cruelty and pain, felt a world away. Here, in this haven of green, I had a chance to start anew, to find my own path, and to understand the whispers of my new reality.