The forest tasted of old blood.
Not the sharp, metallic sting of fresh wounds. No copper tang on my tongue. It was deeper—settled into the roots and softened by time, like earth that had drunk of death and kept its memory.
I stood frozen at the rim of the clearing.
Here, the wind refused to breathe. Not even a leaf dared quiver.
At my feet lay bodies.
Armored men, collapsed like discarded marionettes. Their uniforms—once crisp and dignified—were now torn, muddied, and soaked in a dark stew. Each bore a black-and-silver crest stitched on their shoulders: a double-headed lion beneath a crowned sun.
Something about it tightened in my gut.
The name Eldwright flickered in my memory. A noble house mentioned during orientation—the kind that didn't just hold power but kept it in cages.
I didn't know the crest's full meaning.
But the fear creeping along my veins? That I recognized.
Their bodies were untouched—swords still sheathed, packs intact. Faces frozen in shock, not torment. Whoever had dealt the blow hadn't come for a fight.
They'd come to finish.
My legs trembled. I stepped back over gnarled roots and skidded to stillness. My breath came in quick, shallow gasps.
I whispered, voice ragged, "System—what is this?"
[Warning: Danger proximity detected.]
[Detected insignia match: Eldwright House Guard – Tier‑1 noble family.]
[You should leave. Now.]
A twig snapped behind me.
I didn't look.
I ran.
---
Down twisted trails, under heavy boughs, the forest engulfed me—darker now, as if it resented my escape. The damp scent of moss and mold pressed in. Roots hooked at my ankles; branches grazed my shoulders. The trees themselves felt watchful, unyielding.
I heard voices before I saw them.
Harsh, human; coarse and full of intent.
"…thought he'd be gone."
"Still weak. Looks like he barely woke."
A low snarl. "Good. Makes the job easier."
I spun too late.
Rough hands seized me. A cloth slapped over my mouth, jarring my knees to the ground.
Instinct flared—I elbowed outward. A man groaned as I struck flesh. Then a fist crushed into my ribs and all the air surged out.
Boots. Grins I couldn't see. Fingers digging in. The sick twist of being treated like a beast.
[Conscious state: Failing.]
[No viable escape routes.]
[Please hold on.]
Then darkness claimed me.
---
A sharp jolt pulled me into waking.
My ribs ached. Something was pressing into them—wooden slats slick with mildew.
I lay near the carriage floor. The stench hit next: rot, damp cloth, and dried sweat. Somewhere above, a slow, rattling squeak—wheel on axle, whetted by grime.
My arms were bound, though loosely—enough restraint without full silence. No gag. They didn't need one.
Light filtered through warped slats. I could see drifting forest beyond—deep green shadows, flickers of sky. Inside, ropes sagged. Chains clinked softly with each creak of the cart. A damp tarp, stiff and foul beneath me, carried the weight of decay.
I coughed. My throat raw. "System?"
[Active.]
[Current location: Mobile prison transport. Rural route. Velocity: 20 km/h.]
[Estimated direction: Northwest.]
[Danger level: Moderate, rising.]
"Why—why me? Why the hell am I—"
My voice echoed hollowly.
Suddenly, laughter, low and amused, drifted in through the slats.
"Awake, are you?" said a rough male voice. "Thought the Corpse Prince would sleep all the way to the Lady."
"Shame," another jeered. "I liked him better when he wasn't whining."
Their boots rapped against the cart's side; shadows flickered across the slats. I couldn't see their faces—just silhouettes dripping with amusement.
I whispered, more to myself than them, "I don't understand."
The system answered instead.
[You are currently inhabiting the body of Seren Eldwright, presumed‑dead fourth son of Duke Eldwright.]
[His disappearance was politically… inconvenient.]
[It is likely multiple factions consider his reappearance a threat.]
The name struck me like a blade.
Seren Eldwright.
I stared down at my hands—this frame.
Not some background NPC. Not some farmer's son destined for secret greatness.
A duke's son.
Someone important enough to assassinate.
And I was wearing his skin.
Something cold settled behind my heart.
I hissed, voice brittle. "You brought me into a noble's corpse?!"
[He wasn't fully dead.]
[And it was the only available vessel within your summoning range.]
A bitter laugh twisted in my throat.
[Inhabiting a body someone else wanted dead is rarely free of charge.]
I laughed then—short, sharp, and a little too loud.
They guffawed again outside.
"Losing your mind already?"
"Nobles crack fast. Too used to silk floors and silver plates."
A third voice, female, cold and deliberate: "Or maybe he knows what's waiting at the manor."
Their laughter peeled louder—harvested cruelty, sharpened by power.
Then, piercing through it all, a single word:
"Seren Eldwright."
Not the system. Them.
Whispered like a curse. Like something both feared and hated.
I froze. No blood, no flowing heart, nothing in me stirred except absolute stillness.
That was my name now.
That was the shell I wore.
A body hunted. A history steeped in betrayal. A family I didn't belong to, in a war I'd just stepped into.
[Note: "The Lady" likely refers to Duchess Nazira Eldwright.]
I swallowed hard.
My voice was small, but I managed: "System… tell me more. About this world. This family. Anything."
[Insufficient balance for deeper historical packages.]
[Available now: 500]
•
"Of course it costs money," I muttered. "Of course."
[Everything does.]
Wood creaked overhead. I let my head slump.
My wrists ached against the ropes. My throat burned. Dread swam under my ribs.
No gods. No cheat codes. No dramatic rescue.
Just me.
Tied up. Kidnapped.
Thrown into the wrong story.
I closed my eyes against the dim light and tried to steady my breath.
Survive.
Adapt.
Uncover.
Because I was in Seren's body now.
And the cost had only just begun.
---
[End of Chapter]