Luis was already near the bottom of the staircase when the gentle aroma of freshly baked bread began to rise from the lower floor.
It was a familiar smell.
Comforting.
Mixed with coffee and warm butter.
For a moment, he simply followed the scent down the corridor that led to the dining room.
The house was slowly waking up.
A maid crossed the hallway carrying a tray.
When she saw him, she made a small respectful curtsy.
"Good morning, young master."
Luis responded with a slight nod.
"Good morning."
He kept walking.
The door to the dining room was just ahead.
Luis reached for the doorknob.
But stopped.
The memory of the corridor from a few minutes earlier returned to his mind.
The portrait.
The emperor.
The reflections.
His gaze drifted for a moment to the pattern of the wood on the door.
Wait…
He frowned slightly.
I am a descendant of Maria of Portugal…
The thought came with a strange feeling.
Something didn't seem right.
Luis stepped back from the door.
He slowly crossed his arms.
How old is my father…?
The answer came almost immediately.
Thirty-eight years.
Augusto de Alcântara Bragança e Castro was thirty-eight years old.
Luis blinked.
Thirty-eight…
He did the math mentally.
In his other life, that information had never meant much.
It had been only a distant curiosity in the family's history.
He had known that his grandmother had been a deposed queen of Portugal.
He also knew she had died relatively young.
But the details had never been important.
Now, however…
Now the numbers didn't seem to fit.
Luis frowned even more.
If his father was thirty-eight in 1890…
Then his birth must have occurred around 1852.
Which meant that when his father was born…
That story was still happening.
Or perhaps had only recently happened.
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
An old memory surfaced then.
A casual conversation with his father years ago.
Augusto had once told a story from his childhood.
Something involving his own mother.
Luis vaguely remembered the scene.
Augusto had mentioned that he had been around ten or twelve years old at the time.
Luis blinked again.
The mental calculation reorganized itself.
If that's true…
His father must have lived with his own mother at least until the beginning of adolescence.
Luis looked down at the wooden floor of the corridor.
That meant that…
The early death he remembered from history might not have happened in the same way.
Or…
Perhaps the dates he remembered were not so simple.
He sighed slowly.
So history changed even before I was born…
The thought came with a curious sensation.
It wasn't exactly surprise.
More like a quiet realization.
The memories from his other life were clear, but not perfect.
Especially when it came to specific details about European noble families.
Still, some things remained undeniable.
Luis lifted his gaze again.
I belong to the imperial family…
Even if it was a distant branch.
Even if it was merely collateral.
Still…
He belonged.
He ran a hand through his hair.
Another realization appeared.
More concrete.
More immediate.
My father is a legitimized heir to the imperial throne.
Not in the sense of direct succession.
But in the sense of blood.
Of lineage.
Of history.
Luis let out a small sigh.
Then he looked through a nearby window in the corridor.
Outside, the lands of the estate stretched as far as the eye could see.
Cultivated fields.
Stables.
Warehouses.
Ancient trees that seemed to have watched over the landscape for generations.
The farm.
The great family estate.
Located in Jacarepaguá.
Practically at the gates of the city of Rio de Janeiro.
Luis narrowed his eyes.
This property is enormous…
It wasn't just an ordinary farm.
It was rich.
Well managed.
Strategic.
And it still belonged to the family.
That raised another uncomfortable question.
Luis tilted his head slightly.
How did the republicans allow this?
After the Proclamation of the Republic of Brazil, many families connected to the old empire had lost power.
Some had been pressured.
Others had simply left the country.
But his family…
Was still there.
In Brazil.
With land.
With wealth.
With regional influence.
Luis was about to dive deeper into these thoughts when a familiar voice interrupted him.
"Young master?"
He turned his head.
In the corridor, a few meters behind him, stood a man with firm posture and attentive eyes.
Miguel.
Miguel was thirty-eight years old.
He was Maria's husband.
But his role in the house went far beyond that.
He was assistant.
Administrator.
Butler.
And above all, a friend of the family.
He had worked with Augusto since he was very young.
In fact, he had practically grown up alongside him.
Now he watched Luis with clear concern on his face.
"Young master…" Miguel repeated. "Are you still feeling unwell?"
Luis blinked, realizing he had been standing in front of the door longer than he had thought.
He straightened his posture.
"No, Miguel."
Miguel took a few steps closer.
His eyes examined Luis with silent attention.
"Lady Helena mentioned the fever was very strong last night."
Luis nodded.
"It was… unpleasant."
Miguel crossed his arms.
"You seem a little… distracted."
Luis let out a small breath through his nose.
Distracted is a kind word for it…
But obviously he wouldn't say that.
He shrugged casually.
"Just some strange dreams because of the fever."
Miguel raised an eyebrow.
"Dreams?"
Luis nodded.
"Confusing things. Nothing important."
Miguel watched him for a few seconds.
Then he sighed.
"Fever tends to do that."
Luis smiled faintly.
"That's what I thought."
The butler nodded slowly.
The concern on his face lessened a little.
Then he looked at the dining room door.
"In that case…" Miguel said, "may I assume the young master intends to have breakfast?"
Luis looked again at the door.
The complicated thoughts were still there.
But perhaps they could wait.
He looked back at Miguel.
"Yes."
Miguel inclined his head slightly.
"Then we should go in."
Luis made a small gesture with his hand.
"Go ahead."
Miguel nodded.
He turned the doorknob naturally and opened the dining room door.
The morning light spilled into the corridor.
Luis entered right behind him.
And as he crossed the doorway, he couldn't help but think that this simple breakfast might be only the first step of a day that would raise even more questions.