Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak."
— Sun Tzu, The Art of War
***
Every step across the courtyard felt like wading through wet cement.
My legs, or Kaelen's legs, or whatever you wanted to call these borrowed limbs, didn't want to cooperate. The muscles seemed to understand what was coming even if my brain was still trying to process it. Morning sun made everything look pretty, which felt like some kind of sick joke. Beautiful day for a beating.
Of course he wanted an audience. What's the point of being a righteous hero if nobody's watching you be righteous?
A small crowd had gathered near the center of the courtyard. Students, mostly. A handful of servants who were very obviously pretending to work while sneaking glances at the main event. Everyone loves free entertainment, I guess.
Leo stood in the middle of it all with his arms crossed over his familial uniform. The sunlight hit his golden hair at just the right angle, like the world itself was his personal lighting crew. Three other students flanked him. His supporting cast. Future party members. The people who would eventually follow him through dungeon after dungeon while I rotted in whatever unmarked grave extras got dumped into.
I recognized them from the novel.
Marcel Blackwood stood on Leo's right. Dark hair, permanent sneer, the kind of face that said "my family has money and I make sure everyone knows it." He had his arms crossed too, copying Leo's pose in a way that would have been funny if it weren't so sad.
Elena Morgenthorne stood a bit apart from the group. Silver-blonde hair, expression like she'd just smelled something unpleasant and was too polite to mention it. Daughter of a marquis. The designated ice queen of the cast. She looked like she'd rather be doing her taxes than watching whatever was about to happen.
And then there was Gareth Stoneheart. Built like someone had stacked two normal people on top of each other and wrapped them in muscle. Leo's enforcer. The guy who did the heavy lifting when the protagonist's hands needed to stay clean.
The Scions. The narrative's favorites. The people who get to be heroes while extras like me exist to make them look good by comparison.
Leo's eyes locked onto mine as I got closer.
There's something weird about being looked at by a protagonist. It's not just arrogance, though there's plenty of that. It's this feeling like you're being evaluated. Like someone's mentally sorting you into categories. Threat. Non-threat. Useful. Useless. Worth remembering. Worth forgetting.
I knew which category I fell into.
"Kaelen Leone." His voice carried across the courtyard without him having to raise it. Some people just have voices like that. Voices that make everyone stop and listen. "You've kept us waiting."
Even his vocal cords are protagonistic. The universe really went all-in on this guy.
I opened my mouth. Closed it again.
Think. What's the script here?
In the novel, Kaelen would start throwing around threats. He'd bring up his family name like it was a magic shield. He'd act like an entitled piece of garbage until Leo had no choice but to put him in his place. Classic villain setup. Give the hero justification so the audience can cheer when the bad guy gets what's coming to him.
But that was exactly what Leo wanted.
What does he actually need from this scene? He needs to feel like a hero. He needs a villain who deserves punishment. He needs the moral high ground to be so obvious that nobody can question him when he starts swinging.
So what happens if I don't give him that?
"I... yes, Cousin. I apologize for the delay."
The words came out meek. Quiet. No arrogance. No threats. Just a scared guy who didn't want to be here.
Marcel made a noise like a disappointed audience member at a show that wasn't meeting expectations. He'd been hoping for drama. Elena's eyebrows went up a fraction of an inch. Probably shocked I wasn't already making speeches about my family's influence.
Leo stepped closer.
You know how some people have presence? Not just physical size or good looks, but something that makes the air around them feel heavier? Leo had that. The protagonist aura, maybe. The universe's way of marking its chosen one. Standing near him felt like standing in a spotlight you didn't ask for.
"Do you know why you're here, Kaelen?" His voice was level. Controlled. But I could hear him building up to something. Preparing his speech.
Because the plot demands it. Because you need a punching bag to establish your moral superiority. Because someone had to draw the short straw in this cosmic lottery, and congratulations to me.
"I... no?" I let confusion into my voice. "Have I offended you somehow?"
Leo's jaw went tight. A muscle twitched under his skin.
"Don't play ignorant. The servant girl. Armelle. You cornered her in the kitchens yesterday."
There it is. The inciting incident.
According to the novel, Kaelen had done exactly that just yesterday. Grabbed a kitchen maid's wrist. Made comments that would get you fired from any job and probably arrested in my old world. Generally acted like the entitled scumbag he was written to be. The scene existed so readers would hate him. So they'd want to see him suffer.
But I hadn't done that.
The original Kaelen had. Before I crash-landed into his body and took over the controls. Before my consciousness or soul or whatever you want to call it overwrote whatever had been here before.
I could deny it. Claim innocence. Point out that, technically speaking, I literally hadn't done anything wrong because I wasn't even driving this body when it happened.
But that wouldn't work.
Leo expected defiance. The narrative expected a villain who deserved what was coming. Someone who would snarl and threaten until the hero had no choice but to act. If I gave him that, I got the beating. If I gave him denial, I got the beating plus him thinking I was a liar.
What if I gave him something he wasn't expecting at all?