The moon was low in the sky, shining silver light through a small crack in the hidden room's wall. The air was filled with dust and old secrets long forgotten, buried under the sands of time. Everything was quiet—until, suddenly, faint footsteps softly echoed across the stone floor.
"Are you sure this is the right place?" A man, his face was hidden underneath a cloak, whispered. His tone was tense, as if he were about to commit a crime.
"Yes. I've been here before, but never like this. The real reason we're here… It's worse than I feared." The second voice answered with equal tension, his voice was even lower than the first man's. He also came here with the cloak to hide his face, not wanting to take a risk if someone accidentally saw them here.
They step into the faint glow of a flickering lantern, revealing a clandestine corner filled with ancient scrolls, relics, and the faint outline of a sealed chest.
"You said you found something. Something about the royal bloodline?" The first man asked, his eyes still locked on the ancient scroll that his companion had just offered him. It was written in an ancient language that he couldn't understand, so the man just waited until his companion explained.
"It's more than just a rumor. I've uncovered proof—the truth that the royal family's divine right isn't born of gods, but of a pact made with fallen angels. They've been hiding this for generations."
The man's eyes widened as he clutched an old, ornate relic that the second man handed to him—its surface engraved with symbols of celestial and demonic power. This… This was it. The ironclad proof that would answer all the rumors and the doubt, yet also would bring down the entire royal family in one go.
"This… this explains so much. The whispers about the royal family's strange origins—"
"And it's dangerous." The second man interrupted, his tone was a little bit harsh. "The moment word gets out, everything could collapse. The throne, the kingdom, maybe even us."
The silence here was suffocating, as both were aware of the consequences if something like this were about to spread apart. It wouldn't be an exaggeration if they said that the fate of the kingdom that had been standing for more than a thousand years was in their hands. Neither of them spoke, feeling the fear and worry grow in the silence, knowing everything could change in an instant.
"How many people have you told about this discovery?" The first man suddenly asked.
"Just you." The second man answered shortly.
"Good." The first man nodded, his eyes were still on the ornate relic in his hand, on the demonic symbol engraved on its surface. "For now, keep it secret. It is pretty risky for a man in your position to investigate this matter. But it is different for me. I am just a low-tier noble here, and it is easy for me to meet secretly with all the parties in the royal family. Let me find out where they stand first before we finally decide what to do with this, okay?"
The first man was so lost in thought, studying the scroll in front of him, that he didn't notice the fleeting, malicious look that flashed across his companion's face. For just a second, he saw a cold, calculating stare that seemed to hide something dangerous. But as quickly as it appeared, the gaze was gone, and his companion's face returned to normal, leaving him wondering if he had imagined it.
-0-
Three days later, the quiet of the border castle was shattered by whispers of chaos. The wind carried news faster than any messenger—news that would change everything.
"What?! What do you mean that Lord Henry is dead?!" A man, probably in his early twenties, slammed the table violently when he heard the news about his supposed ally's sudden death.
"I-It is the news from the Royal Family, My Lord!" The messenger's voice was trembling, breathless, and panic-stricken. "The Royal Family hasn't disclosed the details of what killed Lord Henry or the motive behind it, but it is confirmed that Lord Henry's body was found dead in his bed for more than two hours when the head maid of his family found him this morning." He explained in detail.
The man furrowed his brows deeply, finding everything to be suspicious. Oh, he was also grieving for the loss of an ally and an acquaintance. However, this happened right a few days after their secret meeting, and the man found that it was hard to believe that this was a coincidence. No, there should be something hidden here, something related to the Royal Family's dubious lineage.
'I smell foul play here, and I didn't like it at all…' He muttered to himself.
True enough, within hours, the whispers had become shouts—accusations that the protagonist had conspired with dark forces, that his loyalty was in question. Nobles and commoners alike whispered of treason, fear, and divine punishment.
Before he could grasp the truth, a herald's cry suddenly echoed from the outside. "The royal army approaches! Garrison under attack—gates are breaking!"
"SAY, WHAT?!"
The castle's thick wooden doors shuddered as pounding hooves and clattering armor announced the arrival of an overwhelming force. Soldiers poured in, surrounding the fortress on all sides. The banners of the royal knights fluttered ominously.
Within moments, the castle was under siege. The defenders scrambled to defend their home, but the enemy's numbers were too great. Archers took position on the ramparts, arrows whistling through the air. The clash of steel and the shouts of soldiers filled the air.
From the chaos, a figure stepped forward—clad in shining armor, a sword in hand, and a determined expression. He held up a parchment, forged with meticulous care, the evidence of treachery.
"By order of the king," the knight's voice rang out, "Lord Cedric of the Harrington Family is declared to be guilty of conspiring with dark forces, seeking to overthrow our kingdom with the aid of demons! He is also declared to be the murderer of Lord Henry of the Murray Family! He will be stripped of his noble status and will be sent to the border to fulfil his punishment!"
-0-
The carriage bumped along the rough cobblestone road, dust swirling in the cold morning air. Inside, everyone was tense. Guards rode on each side, their eyes alert and watchful. Nobles and officials sat quietly, some looking grim, others sneering.
In the middle of the carriage sat Cedric Harrington, the prisoner who was about to be sent to his death. His hands were tied in front of him. His shiny armor, once spotless, was now dented and stained—a clear sign he was no longer the proud knight he once was. Rumors had spread that he had betrayed the kingdom by telling the demons its secrets. People also said he had killed his close friend, Lord Henry, to take control for himself. Many believed he had even worked with the demons himself.
"A fucking traitor…"
"The royal family should've just executed him directly."
"Yeah, sending him to the border is a risky move. What if he met his friends over there and started killing all of our soldiers?"
"Don't worry, he is bound with the prisoner's curse. It is Master Dara himself who put the curse on him."
"Really? Good riddance."
Cedric's head was bowed, eyes fixed on the dusty floor as the whispers grew louder, the disgust in their voices unmistakable. Every glance, every sneer, felt like a blade piercing his already fractured reputation. He could feel their contempt, their suspicion, but he couldn't summon the strength to respond.
He had also heard about the prisoner's curse in the past. It was a new brand of magic developed by the archmages of the royal family to punish the worst criminal ever; from the traitor of the kingdom, a serial murderer, a mad scientist, and even a war prisoner. This magic didn't really affect the prisoner's daily life, but once the holder of the key decided to unlock the curse, the prisoner would be in the most unimaginable pain, rendering them into a vegetative state if they were exposed to it for more than three minutes. It was cruel and inhuman, something that Cedric himself had never expected that he would experience firsthand.
Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his head, so strong it made him gasp. His vision blurred, and the colors around him spun and twisted into strange patterns. He felt dizzy and closed his eyes tightly. But then, new flashes of images, sounds, and feelings hit him—like he was remembering a different life.
'Why am I seeing this? What is going on here?'
The memories clashed—his present self, a fallen noble, and another, from a completely different world. He saw tall city buildings, glowing screens, the smell of gasoline, and cold metal. He felt the rush of excitement from fighting practice coming from himself, the heaviness of a backpack full of books, the hum of a laptop, and the thrill of discovering old secrets in a university library from the new series of memories, everything rushed into his brain, threatening to mush it into a paste.
'No—this isn't right.' He gritted his teeth, starting to have an existential crisis. 'Who am I? What is happening to me?'
The headache worsened, threatening to split his head open. His mind was a battlefield—modern memories fighting to break free from the ancient body he now inhabited. It wasn't until his brain felt overwhelmed that everything went dark, and he finally lost consciousness.
-0-
'Wait… this isn't my world. I was a student—studying history, ancient civilizations, warfare tactics… I knew the past. I understood strategy, politics, technology. But this… this is all so foreign.' A new consciousness suddenly woke up, confused about what was going on. He could also feel the new memories rush in, filling his brain with so many details as if it was his own memories. If not for the rusty iron armor that this body wore, he would've thought that this was still his body. 'How did I get here? Was I…? Am I dead? Or did some ritual, some experiment, rip my consciousness from my world and dump it into this body?'
The memories flickered like broken images—faint, disjointed, yet undeniable. He remembered pages of history, debates in lecture halls, nights poring over maps and weapons, all merging with the unfamiliar surroundings of a medieval-like realm.
"This body… It's not mine. But I recognize it—Cedric Harrington, a name I've read about in history books—yet I feel… so much more than that. I feel like I'm trapped inside someone else's shell, not knowing who the hell I am right now…"
Suddenly, the carriage lurched again, the jolt knocking him back into the present. The whispers resumed—more venomous now, tinged with disgust.
"What the hell? Is he trying to pretend that he is sick?"
"Well, that wouldn't work. We are so close to the border. He will be a good bait for us."
"Yeah, he is destined to die today."
He felt their eyes—guarded, hostile, contemptuous—burning into him. The sneers, the pointed fingers, the way they looked at him as if he were already dead, a corpse to be discarded. And amid the haze of confusion and pain, a single thought emerged—
'They think I betrayed them. I—no, I know I didn't. But how do I prove it? How do I clear my name when I don't even know who I am anymore?'
His head throbbed painfully, the clash of memories threatening to overwhelm him. But beneath that, a strange clarity was awakening—an instinct, a sense that this chaos was only the beginning.
The carriage slowed as it approached the towering border fort, its dark silhouette stark against the rising sun. Outside, the wilderness stretched endlessly—demon-infested forests and jagged mountains, a savage land where only the strong survived. Inside, the tension was thick enough to choke.
Cedric's heart pounded. He knew what was coming. The soldiers would soon execute him, using him as bait to lure the demons, or perhaps to serve as a scapegoat for the kingdom's failures. His mind spiraled in despair—helpless, confused, haunted by the chaos of memories that shouldn't belong to him.
"What do I do now?" He thought in despair. "They're going to throw me to the wolves. I need to do something right away. But the moment I make a move, the guard will unlock the prisoner's curse and kill me instantly. I cannot do anything here, damn it!"
His stomach clenched as the carriage lurched to a halt. The doors swung open, and the guards prepared to drag him out. In that fleeting moment of darkness, a single thought echoed— "This is the end. I'm just bait now. My life—if it ever was one—will be over in seconds."
He closed his eyes, bracing himself as the door was roughly pulled open. Cold wind swept in, carrying the scent of ash and death. Outside, figures waited—demon scouts, snarling and hungry. However, a figure stepped out from the shadows—armor gleaming, sword at his side. It was a knight, tall and imposing, with a cold, contemptuous gaze fixed on Cedric. His appearance was not something that Cedric expected, and when he turned around and saw this new figure, Cedric could feel blood drain from his face; his heart stopped for a moment as he recognized the man.
"Lord Henry…" He whispered in disbelief.
"Surprise, surprise, right?" The man who should've been dead already – Lord Henry – smiled mockingly at him. "So, you thought I was dead, huh? Pity. Here I am, alive and kicking." He took a step closer, a cruel smile curling on his lips.
"Why?" Cedric whispered, his breath ragged.
Yeah, why? That was a million-dollar question. He knew that both he and Lord Henry's family were good allies, both working together to maintain the hard-earned peace in the city close to the border. So, why would his ally trick him like this? Faking his death and allowing his reputation to get smeared like this? Even the new soul who hadn't adapted to this new world yet also felt the same despair, not believing someone whom he treated as a brother would betray him like that.
"Why? Isn't it easy?" The man snorted, kneeling and whispering so that his voice wouldn't go out and be overheard by the others. "It is easy, Lord Cedric… Our escapade has been found out by the royal family, and they have been eyeing me for two whole days. So, to protect my life and my interests, I staged a perfect performance, faking my death, and let you take all the blame here. I also forged a fake document that makes everyone think you killed me because I found out your secret plan, which is to work together with the demon race to overtake the royal family. I don't even need to spread the words, and everything is running perfectly like how I imagined it would be. So, how is it? A perfect scheme, right?"
That was when Cedric realized that he didn't know the man in front of him at all. Gone was the righteous man who, in his memory, always felt enthusiastic to discuss the people's safety, replaced by the monster in a human skin in front of him. He felt like his soul was sucked from the living plane, and his body moved automatically as he was about to be thrown away. Right in the last moment, under the malicious glares from all the people there, a wisdom that he – or the new soul that had just taken over his body – learned a long time ago suddenly popped inside his head.
'True enough, betrayal always hurts the most because it doesn't come from your enemies. No, it will always come from your closest person…'
And in that instant—
Cedric could see that his life – his new life in this world was over.