"Y—You want to leave?"
My father's fork clattered against his plate as the words escaped his lips, his weathered face painted with disbelief.
I shifted uncomfortably in my wooden chair, the familiar creak of its joints echoing through our cramped kitchen. The evening light filtered through our single window, casting long shadows across the worn table where our family of four had gathered for what should have been a peaceful dinner. Instead, I had just dropped a bombshell that shattered the quiet contentment of our evening meal.
The day had been a disaster from start to finish. After my disastrous first encounter with Princess Serena—where she had treated me like some sort of plaything and carelessly discarded my carefully prepared tea as if it were slop—I had trudged home through the capital's cobblestone streets with my pride in tatters.
"Yes, father," I nodded. "I don't think I am the right person for this position. I'm clearly not suited to serve someone like her."
My mother set down her spoon. She was still beautiful, even after years of hardship had etched fine lines around her eyes. Her long black hair was pulled back in a simple bun, and those striking blue eyes that both Sophia and I had inherited fixed on me with maternal concern. Clearly I and Sophia had inherited our very good looks from her.
"Did something happen today, Senay?" She asked.
Before I could answer, my younger sister Sophia looked up from her bowl of stew, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Did you fall in love with the Princess, big brother?" She asked with a grin that made me want to flick her forehead. "Is that why you want to quit? Because she rejected your advances?"
I nearly choked on my bread. Fall in love with Princess Serena? After she had used me as her personal entertainment and thrown away my tea like it was garbage? The very thought was absurd.
"I would have to be a masochist to fall for someone like her," I muttered under my breath, then immediately regretted it when I saw my mother's disapproving look.
"Senay," she chided gently.
I ran a hand through my dark hair. How could I explain what had happened without making myself sound like a complete failure? How could I tell them that the Princess they all believed to be a paragon of royal virtue was actually a spoiled, cruel young woman who seemed to take pleasure in humiliating those beneath her?
"It's just..." I began, then stopped, searching for the right words. "I think I might lose control around her one day. And that would be dangerous for all of us."
"Lose control?" Father leaned forward, his brow furrowed with concern. He was a simple man, my father—honest work, honest pay, honest living. The idea of his son having conflicts with royalty clearly worried him. "What do you mean?"
I met his gaze directly, trying to convey the seriousness of my concerns. "She's a terrible Princess, father."
The words came out harsher than I intended, and I immediately saw the shock register on both my parents' faces. In our kingdom, speaking ill of the royal family—even in the privacy of one's own home—was considered not just disrespectful but potentially treasonous.
"You shouldn't speak about Princess Serena like that, Senay," my mother said softly, reaching over to smooth my hair in that comforting way she had done since I was a child. "She's still royalty, and she's just a young girl like you. Perhaps she was simply having a difficult day."
I wanted to laugh bitterly at her gentle optimism, but I held my tongue. My mother had always seen the best in people, even when they didn't deserve it. It was one of her most endearing qualities, but also one of her most frustrating ones.
"But mother, I'm telling you the truth," I said, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice. "And that's exactly the problem. Why did you choose me for this position in the first place, father? How am I supposed to succeed Master Sebastian? The man has over sixty years of experience serving the royal family. He's a legend among the palace staff. Of course I'm going to look like a complete amateur following in his footsteps."
I slumped back in my chair. Master Sebastian had been the Princess's butler since before she was born. He had managed to maintain his dignity and composure through decades of royal service, handling every situation with the grace and professionalism that came from a lifetime of experience.
And here I was, barely ten years old with no whatsoever status.
"I'm not cut out for this," I continued, my voice growing quieter. "I don't have the patience, the skill, or the proper temperament. I'm going to embarrass our family, and worse, I might say or do something that could put all of you in danger."
"What are you speaking about, son?" My father laughed as he waved his hand dismissively. "Are you scared the King will execute me? Listen, Senay, His Majesty and I have been friends for years. I've known little Serena since she was barely able to walk. She's a lovely girl—spirited, perhaps, but lovely nonetheless. I consider her like my own daughter."
"What about me then?" Sophia interjected with an exaggerated pout, crossing her arms over her chest. "Am I not your daughter anymore now that you have a royal replacement?"
"You are as well, my cute little princess!" Father replied quickly, reaching over to ruffle her dark hair affectionately. His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled at her, the same way they always had since she was small. "The most precious princess in all the kingdom, in fact."
Sophia preened under the attention, but I could see she was still mildly annoyed at having to share the title, even hypothetically.
"No, no, father, you don't understand," I said, running my hands through my hair in frustration. The gesture was becoming a nervous habit, and I could feel the familiar ache starting behind my temples. "You don't know her the way I do now. Not really."
The truth was more complicated than I could ever explain to them. Yes, Princess Serena was still young—barely ten—and yes, her parents were still alive and well, which meant she hadn't yet experienced the traumatic events that would eventually twist her into the monster I knew she could become. But even now, I could see the seeds of that darkness taking root. The possessiveness, the casual cruelty disguised as playfulness, the subtle but clear ruthlessness that lurked beneath her beautiful exterior.
Today had been a glimpse into what she was capable of, and it terrified me. What would happen when I inevitably challenged her pride? What would she do when someone finally stood up to her in a way that truly threatened her sense of superiority? Would she show mercy, or would she reveal the cold nature that I knew lay dormant within her?
"What do you mean by that, Senay?" Mother asked, genuinely confused like the others.
I looked around the table at my family—at their concerned faces, their trusting expressions, their complete ignorance of the danger that might be lurking just beneath the surface of their peaceful lives. How could I make them understand without sounding completely insane?
"I need to tell you something," I said finally straightening in my chair. "This morning, I had the strangest dream. It was so vivid, so real, that I can't shake the feeling it was more than just a dream."
They were all staring at me now, waiting for me to continue.
"In this dream, I was living the life of another man—someone older than me, from what seemed like another world entirely. He was playing some sort of... game, I suppose you could call it. But this game, it showed our world, our kingdom, our people. And in it, Princess Serena..." I paused, swallowing hard. "She was completely different. Deranged, even. She had serious mental issues, and she did terrible things to people who crossed her."
The silence that followed was deafening. I watched as their expressions shifted from concern to bewilderment to something approaching alarm.
When I finally looked up at their faces, I found them all staring at me with their mouths hanging open, as if I had just announced that I planned to sprout wings and fly to the moon.
Mother was the first to react. She immediately stood up from her chair and crossed to my side of the table, her hand reaching out to press against my forehead.
"Mother!" I protested, trying to duck away from her touch. "I'm being serious here! I'm not sick!"
"Do you hear yourself, big brother?" Sophia asked, and to my dismay, she was trying to suppress laughter. Her shoulders were shaking with the effort, and her eyes were bright with amusement. "You sound completely mad! A game showing the future? Really?"
"You guys don't believe me...?" I looked desperately from one face to another, finally settling on my father. "Father? Please, I saw a terrible future, and in it, you and mother are..."
The words died in my throat. How could I tell them? How could I look into their loving, trusting faces and tell them that I had seen their deaths? That in the vision—dream, game, whatever it was—they had died horribly and then Serena becoming a Tyrant Queen?
"Senay?" Father prompted gently, leaning forward in his chair. "We're listening, son. What happened to us in this dream?"
"I mean..." I struggled with the words, my throat feeling tight and constricted. I wanted to tell them everything, to warn them, to make them understand the danger that might be coming. But the words wouldn't come. They wouldn't believe me anyway—how could they? And even if they did, what good would it do to terrify them with visions of a future that might never come to pass?
I couldn't do it. I couldn't look at Sophia's young, innocent face and tell her that I had watched our parents die. I couldn't burden them with that knowledge, not now, not like this.
But I could prepare. I could make sure that when the time came, we would be ready.
"Father…can you train me in swordplay?"
The question seemed to come out of nowhere, and I watched as they all blinked in surprise, clearly expecting me to finish my earlier thought about the dream.
"I mean it," I continued awkwardly. "I want to learn how to fight…."
Father broke out of his stupor first, and his face lit up with genuine excitement. "Of course, son! We'll start tomorrow early at morning, and I'll make you the greatest swordsman this kingdom has ever seen!"
My father was the captain of the King's guard. Though he wasn't on the level of swordsmanship as the Chief Commander Alistair Ravenswood, he was excellent at it.
"But what about your position as the Princess's butler?" Mother asked, her hand still gently stroking my hair. "If you truly don't want to continue in that role, we won't force you, Senay." She smiled at me with such gentle understanding that my chest ached. "Your happiness and well-being are more important than any job, no matter how prestigious."
I looked at her then I glanced at my father, and at Sophia, who had finally stopped laughing and was now watching me with genuine concern.
"Mother..." I said softly, then looked at each of them in turn before sighing deeply. "Okay. I'll continue with the position. But I'm going to need that sword training, father. I have a feeling I'm going to need it."
"Excellent decision, son! A man never goes back on his word!" my father boomed, clapping me on the back with the force of a war hammer.
I forced a smile. "I never actually gave my word though…"
But he ignored it entirely. "Now, sleep early. You'll need to wake at dawn tomorrow!" He said, rising from the dinner table with that infuriating finality that always meant discussion over.
"Right…" I muttered under my breath.
When dinner was over, I trudged down the hall toward my room, feet dragging, my mind already filled with thoughts.
As soon as I closed the door behind me, I collapsed onto the bed face-first, burying my groan into the pillow.
Shifting my body around, I stared at the ceiling.
Today had been... overwhelming. Somehow, in a matter of hours, I'd become the personal butler of Serena Evernight, the Crown Princess of the Kingdom of Ruthelphia.
It still didn't feel real.
When Father first told me, I'd been flattered — maybe even excited. I mean, who wouldn't be? A royal post, a chance to serve someone powerful, important... breathtaking.
But then, the memories returned.
All of them.
Memories from a life before this one — fragments of digital dialogues, scripted deaths, and branching choices. I remembered her now. Serena. Not just as a living, breathing girl who scowled at me and shattered tea cups — but as the fictional character I once admired on a screen. The one I had tried to save without any possibility to do it in the first place.
Back then, I'd liked her more than any other character in the game. She was complex, sharp, beautifully tragic. Not the easiest to approach — always wary, always calculating — but once she opened up, she had this quiet intensity that made her unforgettable.
Maybe I saw myself in her.
Maybe it was because I, too, had once been alone — an orphan left to fend for himself, distrusting the world that had never offered anything without a price. Her emotional armor had never felt like a design choice.
And now... here I was, inside her world. With knowledge of what was to come — especially how it would end.
I rolled onto my side, frowning at the dark corner of the room.
If I had to ask myself honestly what I wanted for her, the answer was clear: the best. She deserved better than the fate she was handed in that world. And in this one... maybe I could help shape something different.
But to do that, her parents — the King and Queen — had to live. In the game, their deaths were the first domino in Serena's spiral. Their absence broke her. I had to make sure that never happened.
Still, I couldn't help but question the role I was playing.
Did I really need to be her butler to change things?
Wouldn't I be more useful if I spent this time training? Growing stronger? Building connections? Gathering allies?
Being tied to her side... it limited me. It chained me to routine and expectation. But then—
Her dying face flashed across my mind again.
That one scene. Burned into my mind.
"Ugh…" I groaned and sat up.
I reached out my hand, palm facing upward, and summoned the cold.
Frost bloomed in the air like breath on a winter morning, coalescing into delicate particles that spiraled and curled until they formed a rose — sharp-edged and glittering. A perfect, frozen bloom, its petals laced with power.
My bloodline gift. Ice affinity, passed down from my mother's side. A rare and potent ability. Beautiful, but hard to control. If I could master it... I could do more than just serve tea. I could protect.
But it wouldn't be enough. Not alone.
That's why I needed to learn swordsmanship too. Control wasn't the same as strength — and Serena wouldn't survive on aesthetics.
I stood, pushed the furniture aside, and began training. Small shards. Spikes. Streams of frost. Simple attacks, controlled bursts. Shaping. Hardening. Evaporating. Again and again until my body trembled from mana depletion and sweat.
By the time I collapsed onto the floor, every muscle ached, my vision swimming.