ESPERSIA, YEAR 1889
Why here?
Why was I reincarnated into this mess? A world where I'm being hunted, and I have no idea where the danger's coming from. It's like I left one fire just to land in another. I thought reincarnation was supposed to be a second chance, but it's starting to feel more like some twisted punishment.
James spent years looking over his shoulder, never knowing who to trust, always waiting for the next knife in the back. And now, here I am, as Zeliot Valoria, instantly in the frying pan again. Doesn't seem like much of an upgrade.
I know there has to be some larger reason I'm here. There has to be.
Or maybe there isn't.
Maybe it's just some cosmic joke — some god screwing with me for the hell of it.
Maybe that whole conversation wasn't even real. Maybe—
No. I'm spiraling.
There's no benefit in chasing thoughts that don't lead anywhere.
All I really know... is that I know nothing.
And with that in mind, I need to stay sharp. Focused. Alive.
"Zeliot, you there?"
I blinked and turned to see Raamiz, standing just a few feet away, looking at me like I'd lost my mind. His arms were crossed, that familiar smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"You've been standing there for a while, looking all... intense." He waved his hand in front of my face. "Are you even listening?"
I hadn't even noticed. Damn it.
"Yeah, sorry," I muttered, trying to pull myself together. "Just... thinking."
"Well, stop thinking so much. We've got places to be. Let's get a move on, or they'll wonder where we went."
I nodded, pushing away the thoughts racing through my head. We had overheard more than enough. We needed to get out of this hallway before we got caught.
The corridors were dim, lit only by the occasional flicker of torchlight along the stone walls. The air hung heavy, the kind of silence that made every breath feel louder than it should've.
I followed Raamiz as we slipped deeper into the passage, our footsteps soft against the cold floor. He glanced over his shoulder, gave me a quick nod. His pace was slower than usual—measured, quiet. Not like him. Raamiz was usually all confidence and noise, but tonight, he moved like someone who understood the cost of being caught.
We hugged the walls as we moved, keeping low. Voices echoed faintly in the distance, too far to make out, but enough to remind us we weren't alone. The castle felt different at night—less like a home, more like a maze. The shadows stretched long, shifting with each flicker of the torchlight, like the walls themselves were listening.
As we approached a narrow staircase that led back to the servant's quarters, Raamiz suddenly stopped. He pressed himself against the wall, motioning for me to do the same.
Footsteps.
Again.
The faint clink of armor echoed down the hall. I pressed myself against the wall as Raamiz held a finger to his lips, eyes locked on the approaching sound.
The footsteps grew louder. We were exposed. I held my breath, willing the silence to hold just a little longer.
As the guards rounded the corner, they paused, their lanterns casting light across the floor. One of them muttered something, too low for me to make out, but I caught a few words—"Duke's orders… heightened security."
Raamiz tensed beside me, his jaw clenched. Heightened security? Did they know something? Were we in more trouble than I thought?
The guards stood there for what felt like an eternity, talking in low voices. I could barely make out what they were saying, but it didn't matter. All I could focus on was the pounding of my heart and the fear that any second they'd turn and see us standing there.
Finally, after what felt like hours, the guards continued on their way, their footsteps fading into the distance.
Raamiz let out a quiet breath and glanced at me. "That was too close," he muttered.
I nodded, heart still pounding.
Then he froze.
I followed his gaze — and there he was.
Alba.
Alba stood at the end of the corridor, half-lost in shadow.
He wasn't supposed to be there.
He couldn't be there.
But he was.
Alba's gaze slid from Raamiz to me.
I glanced at Raamiz.
He slid back a step, his body easing into a practiced kind of calm—too smooth to be real. His posture loosened, his expression settled. A performance. One meant to say everything was fine.
But I could tell. He was panicked.
My chest tightened.
How long had Alba been standing there?
Did he see us hiding?
For a few long seconds, no one moved. The tension sat thick between us, brittle as glass.
"Zeliot. Raamiz." Alba's voice was calm, too calm.
Raamiz straightened up, his face remained composed but the tension still clear. "Alba," he said coolly. "Fancy seeing you here. Midnight stroll?"
Alba stepped forward, his eyes still on me. "What are you two doing out so late?" His tone was even, but I could sense the suspicion beneath it.
"Just... clearing our heads," Raamiz said with a shrug. "You know, after that long dinner."
Alba didn't respond immediately. His gaze moved between the two of us, as though weighing his options. He wasn't stupid. He had to know we were up to something. But instead of pressing the issue, he merely raised an eyebrow.
"You should get back to your chambers," he said quietly, but his voice held an edge of warning. "Before someone else finds you."
I swallowed, trying to keep my face neutral, but my mind was racing. Why wasn't he pressing further?
"Right, of course," Raamiz said, flashing a quick smile. He took a step toward Alba. "And what about you? Shouldn't the eldest son be... resting, too?"
Alba's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. He didn't take the bait. Without another word, he turned and walked away, footsteps echoing until the corridor was silent again.
I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.
Raamiz shook his head, muttering, "Well, that was... interesting. Obviously we're not the only ones keeping secrets tonight."
I didn't reply.
Alba had caught us. He could've reported us, dragged us into Father's chambers, demanded answers. But he didn't.
Why?
I guess it could be as simple as him doing us a favor. But from what I remember of Alba... I wouldn't bet on it.
Raamiz nudged my shoulder. "Come on, Zeliot. Let's go before he circles back."
I nodded, following Raamiz as we made our way back through the winding halls.
We moved fast, ducking into quieter corridors when we could, but I couldn't stop replaying Alba's words in my head. "Before someone else finds you."
A vague warning, maybe. Or maybe something more targeted... I didn't like how it lingered.
And the thought that followed—I shoved it back down. Not the time.
I glanced at Raamiz. "Where exactly are we going?"
Raamiz slowed his pace slightly and shot me a sidelong look, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "We need to talk. My chambers are the best place for that right now. Unless you want to have a heart-to-heart right here in the middle of the hallway?"
I frowned. "Your chambers? Isn't that going to look a bit suspicious?"
He let out a low chuckle, though there was a seriousness in his eyes. "Suspicious is my middle name. People are always wondering what I'm up to. Nothing new there. Trust me, it's fine."
I sighed but followed him anyway. "Alright, lead the way."
Soon enough, we reached Raamiz's chambers. Standing by the door was a tall, broad-shouldered guard I didn't recognize—I assumed it was Raamiz's gaurd.
"Lord Raamiz, Lord Zeliot," the guard greeted with a respectful nod, his eyes scanning the both of us. "It's quite late. Is everything in order?"
Raamiz waved a hand dismissively, flashing the guard a grin. "Everything's just dandy, old friend. Just taking my brother for a little chat. You know how it is."
The guard's gaze lingered on me for a moment before returning to Raamiz. He didn't seem convinced, but he stepped aside without further comment. "Very well, my lord. I'll be stationed here if you need anything."
Raamiz clapped him on the arm. "Good man. You're doing the realm proud."
With that, we slipped inside. The moment the door closed behind us, Raamiz's lighthearted demeanor dropped. He crossed the room and collapsed into a chair by the window, running a hand through his tousled hair.
"Alright, Zeliot," he said, his voice low and serious now. "We need to figure out what just happened back there."
I didn't sit right away. I took in the room—Raamiz's chambers were chaos. Maps pinned at odd angles, papers spilling off the desk, books stacked wherever there was space. It was both surprising and not. For someone like Raamiz, maybe disorder was part of the process.
A quiet laugh slipped out. A funny memory had surfaced—someone I used to know had the exact same kind of mess.
Raamiz looked up. "What's funny?"
"Nothing," I said quickly, waving it off. Not the time to be dwelling on the past. I needed to stay present.
Silence settled for a beat. After a moment, I speak.
"Alba could've pressed us," I muttered. "But he didn't. Why?"
Raamiz didn't answer right away. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his voice low. "Because he didn't need to. He saw what he needed to see—and now he's deciding how to use it."
I nodded slowly. "You think he's involved? In the fall?"
Raamiz's brow furrowed. "I want to say no. But everything about this feels... off. He's hiding something."
"Maybe he's protecting us."
"Or maybe he's protecting himself."
The room went quiet again. Only the low crackle of the fire filled the space, and even that sounded distant.
Raamiz's eyes stayed locked on the flames for a few seconds before turning to me again. "Either way, we don't have the luxury of trusting him right now."
I didn't argue. From the little I knew, he was right.
Raamiz sat back. "Anyways, right now, what we need to focus on is safety. Develop a plan. But before we do that, you need to catch up—fast."
I frowned. "Catch up to what?"
He gave me a look. "To reality. You've been kept in a padded cage your whole life. Amelia made sure of that. You have essentially lived without the burden of reality; no sense of danger, no weight on your shoulders. That ends now."
I frowned. His words settled over me like a heavy cloak—and he wasn't wrong. Even with all the reading I'd done since waking up, it still felt like I was fumbling around with half a toolkit. Zeliot's memories came in flashes, never the parts I needed. Especially not when it came to navigating the potential consequences of politics.
Raamiz studied me for a moment, his voice softening slightly. "Meanwhile, my mother, Duchess Gaius, didn't exactly offer me the same luxury. I've known the stakes from the start. And as a result, I know the game better than most."
I exhaled through my nose. Another life, another setup where I'm the one catching up.
I looked him in the eye. "Alright. Lay it out. I clearly don't know a damn thing."
Raamiz blinked—briefly surprised—then gave a tight, knowing smile. "Good. Because once you see the board, there's no unseeing it."
I nodded. If I'm going to survive in this world, I need more than instincts. I need information.
Raamiz pulled a scroll from the pile and flattened it across the table.
Not a map. Something closer to a diagram.
Circles, arrows, names, scribbled notes in different directions. Looked like he was trying to solve a math problem that happened to involve our entire family.
He tapped the center. "Gaius. First wife. Mother to Alba, Idris, and me."
I nodded, eyes scanning the rest. A few names didn't ring any bells. But I recognized some—Luca, Alba, Idris, Amelia.
Luca's name had just one line drawn from it, straight to the Duke.
Next to it:
"Loyalty: exclusive. Answers only to the Duke."
I hadn't met this Luca yet—just knew he was the one who supposedly dragged me back from the brink. But if this chart was anything to go by, he didn't answer to anyone else. Which probably meant people tread carefully around him. He might not have a title, but from the looks of it, he didn't need one.
Idris was next.
"Spoiled brat."
Underlined.
A line curved from his name back to Gaius, and just beneath it, in smaller writing:
"Extremely close. Dependent."
I smirked a little.
Alba's name sat closest to the Duke's, with the thickest connection.
No added notes. Either it was obvious, or Raamiz didn't feel like writing it out.
Amelia's section was lighter.
"Amenable. Strategic. Politically adept. Charismatic."
A faint dashed line connected her to Gaius. Raamiz had scribbled a question next to it:
"Strained?"
That sounded about right.
Below that, there was a line that joined both duchesses back to the Duke—
"Advisoral dynamic. Utility over intimacy."
The phrasing made sense, though it said a lot that Gaius's connection had a second underline and Amelia's didn't.
Then there was me.
Zeliot.
Two thin lines—one to Amelia, one to Raamiz.
And under my name:
"Shy. Sheltered. Easily manipulable."
I blinked at it. Then looked up.
Raamiz was already watching me.
"Hey—I wasn't saying that I'd try anything," he said. "You've just always been kind of easy to steer. Even you can admit that."
I held his gaze for a second.
I wouldn't know. Hard to admit something I don't remember being.
Still, if this was the perception, I couldn't ignore it.
"Sure," I muttered. "Not planning on making it easy anymore."
Raamiz nodded once, like he'd been expecting that answer. Then he tapped the chart again. "Anyway. Back on track."
He pointed toward the center. "Queen Gaius. Duke's first wife. My mother. Mother to Alba, Idris, and me."
He glanced up. I nodded.
"She wants Alba named heir. No surprises there."
I looked over the chart again. "Isn't that just... automatic? He's the oldest."
Raamiz snorted. "Zeliot. Just when I think you're getting somewhere." He shook his head. "No. The Duke picks the heir. Oldest is tradition, not law."
"So he could name anyone?"
"Anyone with the blood for it. Which, unfortunately, still keeps the rest of us in the running."
I paused, thinking back. "At dinner—when Idris said the real event hadn't started yet—he meant the naming."
Raamiz's expression shifted, a flicker of surprise passing through his eyes. "Not bad, Zeliot. Yeah, that's exactly what he meant. Everyone's waiting for the Duke to make his move."
For a second, I felt something weird—pride, maybe. Or déjà vu.
Okay, maybe Zeliot's memories are more useful than I thought. James was still doing most of the heavy lifting, but fine. Credit where it's due.
"But," Raamiz said, leaning back in his chair, "there's more to it. Gaius might have Alba lined up, but that doesn't mean it's locked in. The Duke hasn't named anyone yet. That's what's got everyone pacing."
I frowned. The pieces were coming together, but one thing still didn't make sense.
"Wait… you think Gaius is worried about me getting picked?"
Raamiz's fingers skimmed the edge of the parchment. He let out a breath, like he'd been waiting for the question.
"Well, it's just a theory," he said. "But if I know my mother? Yeah. She's worried."
I stared at him. "Worried? About me? Why?"
His tone shifted—less amused now, more direct.
"Because of your mother. Amelia has pull with nearly every noble that matters. Lords, council members, the types who dress their egos like armor. If the Duke hesitates… they could push his hand. He might not want to choose you, but he might not have a choice."
I blinked, trying to process that. "But… I've never done anything. I barely existed outside my room. How could I be a threat to Alba?"
Raamiz gave a crooked grin—one part amused, one part warning.
"You're thinking like a participant. Amelia's been playing the long game. Quiet, polite, never overt. But she's been building favors, positioning herself. If she decides it's time to make a move? You wouldn't need to do a damn thing."
I leaned back, the weight of it setting in. I knew she had presence, sure, but I hadn't thought it mattered like this.
"So because of her, I might actually be in the running..."
"Exactly." Raamiz's voice leveled out. "And if Gaius sees that? She won't leave it to chance."
I watched him for a second. "Okay, but… why are you telling me all this? Why help me? What's in it for you?"
He looked genuinely surprised. Then he laughed. "Isn't it obvious? I like you more than the rest of this ridiculous family."
The smile faded just a little. "Always have."
I squinted at him. "That's it? You expect me to believe this is just about sibling bonding?"
He didn't answer at first. Then: "Let's just say I've got a personal grudge. That enough for you?"
"A grudge?" I asked.
He nodded, but didn't elaborate. Just smiled again—tighter this time. "Let's leave it at that for now."
Fine. I'd think more about that later. Right now, I had bigger problems.
I closed my eyes and took a breath. "Alright. So what should I do?"
Raamiz crossed his arms. The playful tone was gone.
"First, understand something. Gaius is just one possibility. You've got plenty of enemies you don't even know exist yet. Nobles who'd benefit from seeing you disappear." He leaned in slightly. "Don't trust your gut. Trust no one."
I nodded. "That seems... obvious. But come on, I'm useless like this. I can't defend myself."
Raamiz drummed his fingers on the table. "I don't think anyone's going to move right now. Not while you're under the Duke's nose. And security's tighter than it's been in years."
"Still," I muttered. "I can't rely on guards forever."
Raamiz tilted his head, giving me a half-sympathetic look. "No. You can't." He hesitated. "I was going to handle this on my own, but… might be time to bring you in."
I narrowed my eyes. "Bring me into what?"
He exhaled slowly. "You'll find out soon. Let's just say it'll solve your self-defense problem."
He paused, then added with a faint smirk, "I'll loop you in when the timing's better."
"Wait—what are you planning?"
Raamiz's eyes glinted with something between mischief and determination. "Trust me, you'll want in on this. I'll get you the details later."
I raised an eyebrow. "You're really going to leave it like that?"
He just shrugged. "Patience, brother. All in good time. For now, get some rest. It's been a night."
I was about to nod and leave, but something held me back.___Raamiz, noticing my hesitation, leaned back and crossed his arms.
"You know," he said, surprisingly serious, "you could stay here tonight. Avoid the whole walk back. You look like you've been through it."
I blinked at him, caught off guard. From what I've gathered, Raamiz never offered anything without a hint of mischief, but this… this was genuine. "You want me to stay?"
He rolled his eyes. "Don't make it weird. You look rattled. It's late. Your call."
I considered it. The thought of staying, of avoiding the long, quiet walk back to my chambers, definitely had its appeal. But... "Gregory's going to freak out if I don't check in. Amelia would know by morning, and you know what a scene that'll cause."
Raamiz sighed dramatically, falling back onto the bed."Gregory, right. Forgot you had a watchdog glued to your side."
I feigned a smile, but I wasn't wrong. If I didn't show up, Gregory would report me missing, and that would bring a whole heap of attention we didn't need. "I'll go back, check in, make sure he's not hovering outside my door all night."
Raamiz gave me a lazy nod, but before I could leave, a question gnawed at me. My hand hovered over the door handle. "One last thing. What's your take on the Legon arranged marriage?"
Raamiz's face shifted, his easygoing demeanor faltering for just a second. He scratched the back of his neck, looking almost... unsure. "Honestly? Haven't had the time to think much about it. Been focused on more urgent things." He gave me a knowing look, his previous words about protecting myself still lingering.
I start to open my mouth,but before I could press, he waved it off. "We'll talk about it later. Right now, you should get back before Gregory blows a fuse. Try to get some sleep, Zeliot. You're gonna need it."
I nodded, feeling the complexity of everything settling back in. "Yeah. Goodnight, Raamiz. And… thank you."
Raamiz sits up from his bed, with a slight sigh. "Moron, no need to thank me, its the least I can do. But, for what its worth, its my pleasure."
I turn again to leave, with a small part of me still wondering what else Raamiz wasn't telling me. But that was a problem for tomorrow. Right now, I just needed to get through the night.
I made my way back to my chambers, to perhaps find Gregory lounging by my door, maybe giving me a half-hearted nod before retreating back into his usual silence. Instead, as I rounded the corner, I froze.
The corridor felt darker than it should have.
No Gregory.
In his place, a taller, bulkier figure loomed by the door. He wasn't pacing, wasn't fidgeting—just standing still, like he was waiting for something to happen. The flickering light from the nearby torches cast long shadows, making him seem even larger.
The man watched me approach, his eyes tracking me like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike. The muscles in my neck tightened. The silence between us stretched, the quiet so thick it felt like the stone walls themselves were closing in.
Who was this man? Where is Gregory?
Then it hit me. That man… the one who supposedly saved me.
"Luca?" I blinked, more out of surprise than recognition. "What are you doing here?"
He looked at me with that familiar intensity, one that usually signaled something serious. "Your late. We need to talk, Zeliot."