Red woke again and noticed the smell of lavender.
Not gunpowder. Not blood. Lavender, like a florist had somehow won a war.
That was the first detail that reached him, and it unsettled him more than a squadron of rifles ever could.
The second was the girl.
She stood at the edge of the marble chamber, robes dark and stitched with faint constellations that shimmered when she moved. A blonde ribbon tied her hair neatly, a soft detail on someone who had clearly meddled in forbidden rites.
Her eyes widened as she watched him, as though afraid he might collapse or attack.
"Feeling better, Alzein?" she whispered.
The name hung in the air like a crown too heavy for his neck.
Not his name. Not his life. Yet it wrapped around him anyway.
"Not exactly," he said, his voice steady though it still felt foreign in his throat.
Her brows tightened. "I brought you back. You are safe now."
Safe. He almost laughed.
His handler had once whispered the same word as bullets closed in. Safe was an illusion.
He pushed himself upright, testing the body she had given him. The movement was too smooth. No scars. No bullet wounds. No familiar aches.
This frame was taller. Pale. Ceremonial. Royal.
He hated it on sight.
"Where is this?" he asked.
"Arleina. The capital of Light." Her voice softened as she said it.
A pulse flickered at the edge of his mind.
[Quest: Stabilize Identity]Survive your first council session without being exposed as an imposter.
Even the system wanted him to play politics.
The girl clasped her hands. "I am Lumiaris. Astral mage. I used forbidden void magic to bring your soul back to your body."
"Forbidden sounds dangerous," he said.
Besides, you failed. You brought me, not the Alzein you know, he thought.
Her gaze drifted, as if half her mind had wandered into the stars. Then, suddenly sharp again, she added, "The world believes you dead. Some will rejoice at your return. Others will not. You must tread carefully."
He rose and crossed the room, legs carrying him with a stranger's grace.
A mirror caught his reflection. White hair spilled to his shoulders. Crimson eyes cut back at him like sharpened glass. A mole beneath his left eye.
Alzein's face, not Red's.
Lumiaris hesitated behind him. "You feel different. Like Alzein, and not."
No kidding.
Her sleeve brushed his hand. The system surged alive.
[Bond Condition: 0/6 Spirit Vessels]Progress: 0%
Heat prickled along his skin. Instinct screamed to pull away, but he forced his hand steady.
The words on the screen burned in his vision.
Spirit Vessels. Six of them.
Whatever this bond meant, it felt less like a blessing and more like chains.
"What did you just do?" he asked.
"Nothing," she answered too quickly. Her tone wavered between honesty and evasion. "Only… your soul does not sit still. It burns."
He looked at her in confusion. "What do you mean…"
Before he could press further, another sound intruded. The echo of footsteps. Whispered voices. The metallic ring of armor outside.
Lumiaris stiffened. "The council."
His jaw tightened. Of course. A room full of strangers waiting to decide if he should live or die.
"They will want answers," she warned. "Why their disgraced prince walks again. Why the valley did not keep him buried."
"I have dealt with worse interrogations," he muttered. Poisoned wine would almost be a kindness.
The system chimed again, smug in its timing.
[Skill Unlocked: Spy's Mind]Read surface intent of targets. (Accuracy: Low at current level)
That almost made him smile.
If they wanted a prince, they would get a spy wrapped in royal silk.
The doors opened. A servant peeked in, eyes wide as if she had seen a ghost. She bowed quickly and vanished.
Word was spreading already.
The dead prince walked again.
Knights gathered to escort them. Red and Lumiaris walked through marble halls alive with whispers.
Lumiaris touched her ribbon as if bracing herself. "Tell them it was the Light Goddess's will."
He glanced at her. "And they will just accept that?"
"Some will. Others…" She let the words trail off.
The banners of the Sunantler stag hung from towering columns. Courtiers clustered beneath them like carrion birds.
Their voices rose as he passed.
"The prince… impossible…""Buried with his father…""Look at his eyes…"
He catalogued them in seconds.
One man's hand twitched toward his hilt. Another leaned forward, gaze hungry with ambition. A woman pressed trembling fingers to her mouth.
Every gaze was sharp, a mix of suspicion, curiosity, and fragile hope.
The throne at the end stood empty.
No king. Just him.
"Presenting Prince Alzein of Arleina," the herald stammered.
The system pulsed again.
[Quest Updated: Survive Council Vote]Failure = Execution by Purge.
Wonderful. Democracy with a death sentence.
He stepped forward, white robe trailing behind, the weight of performance heavier than any rifle.
A spy's instinct said to vanish. Here, survival meant spectacle.
He lifted his chin, crimson eyes meeting theirs without a flicker. He had practiced that stare since childhood. The look that promised confidence.
"I almost died in the valley," he said evenly, "but now I'm back to fulfill my mission."
Gasps and outrage rippled across the chamber. His smile stayed sharp.
If he was to be their prince, then he would be the one they never saw coming.