"The only way to deal with an unfree world is to beco so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion."
***
I stood up too fast. The chair scraped against the floor loud enough to make wince.
Through the window, past the gardens and the training yard where Lucius was probably showing off his swordwork right now, I could see the old wing. Crumbling towers against a grey sky. They looked like broken teeth.
The Leone estate had been built over centuries. Every generation added sothing. A new hall. An extra tower. A wing for important guests. The result was an architectural ss that sohow worked if you squinted hard enough.
The oldest sections were abandoned now. Too expensive to fix. Too "historically significant" to tear down. They just sat there at the edge of the property, slowly falling apart while the family focused on the nice parts where they actually lived.
That’s where Kaelen had found the rune. Sowhere in those dusty rooms and forgotten corridors. Buried under decades of junk and family secrets.
My potential salvation.
Or my death. Cursed items didn’t get called cursed because they were pleasant company. There was usually a reason they ended up abandoned in creepy buildings instead of displayed in family vaults.
But what choice do I have?
Keep playing punching bag until the story decides I’m done? Wait around for Leo’s plot armor to demand my execution? Hope the universe takes pity on and rewrites my fate out of the goodness of its nonexistent heart?
Yeah. No.
I’d rather die trying to change things than live out soone else’s script.
A knock on the door pulled back. "Young Master? Your al is ready."
I turned toward the sound, letting my face go slack and beaten. The mask sliding into place.
"Thank you. I’ll be down shortly."
"Actually, Young Master." The voice got softer. Almost hesitant. "I’ve brought it up to your room. I thought... after this morning... you might prefer privacy."
That caught off guard. Actual consideration. Actual kindness. This wasn’t the sa maid from earlier. This voice was younger. Less worn down by years of serving a family that barely noticed staff existed.
I crossed to the door and opened it.
A girl about my age stood there, or about Kaelen’s age anyway, carrying a silver tray that probably cost more than a commoner family saw in a year.
Black hair in a simple braid. Slender neck. Features that were elegant in a quiet way.
But it was her eyes that made stop.
Red.
Not brown that caught the light weird. Not hazel with an unusual tint. Genuinely, unmistakably red. Like blood. Like rubies. Like warning signs you really shouldn’t ignore.
They watched with a stillness that made the back of my neck prickle.
Unknown variable. File that away for later.
"What’s your na?" I kept my voice neutral. Curious without being demanding.
She blinked. Clearly surprised a noble’s son would bother asking. Based on Kaelen’s mories, that was fair. The original didn’t learn servant nas unless he needed to threaten soone.
"Lyra, Young Master."
"Thank you, Lyra. That was thoughtful of you."
The words felt weird in this mouth. Genuine gratitude in Kaelen’s voice. Her expression did sothing complicated before settling back into professional blankness.
She moved past and set the tray on the desk. Warm bread. Soup that slled like herbs and vegetables. Fruit arranged just so. Nothing fancy. No roasted pheasant or imported luxuries. Just simple, honest food.
My stomach growled. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until the sll hit .
As she turned to leave, I spoke again.
"Lyra?"
She paused at the door. Turned back with that sa unsettling stillness.
"The old wing of the estate. Is it dangerous to explore?"
"The old wing is forbidden, Young Master." Her voice was flat. Matter-of-fact. No judgnt about why I was asking. "Lord Leone’s orders. He says it’s for our safety. Unstable floors. Ceilings that might collapse. Several sections have been condemned by royal building inspectors."
"I see. Thank you for the warning."
She nodded once and left. The door clicked shut behind her.
I stared at that door for a long mont.
Forbidden. Which ans unwatched. Which ans ignored.
A perfect place to hide.
I sat down at the desk and started eating. The food was good. Objectively good. Warm bread, well-seasoned soup, fresh fruit. But I barely tasted any of it. Just fuel. Calories to keep this borrowed body running.
Lyra’s kindness stuck in my head though. That mont of genuine consideration for Kaelen’s feelings after his public humiliation. A servant going out of her way to spare the family disappointnt a little dignity.
Why?
I didn’t have an answer. Filed that away too, right next to those red eyes.
Focus. You have a plan. Stick to the plan.
The old wing was forbidden. That ant no guards. No staff. No witnesses. A place where the pathetic third son could wander without anyone caring, because everyone already assud he was just moping around feeling sorry for himself.
A place where I could search for an artifact that might save my life, and nobody would think twice about it.
Perfect.
I finished the al. Set the tray aside. Walked back to the window.
Those crumbling towers waited out there. Broken windows. Collapsing roofs. Probably rats. Probably worse things than rats.
But also, maybe, a cursed item that the author forgot about. A [Rune of Diminishnt] that could let hide my true abilities while everyone kept assuming I was worthless.
A way to survive.
No backing out now.
The choice was never between safety and danger. That was never on the table. I was already in danger. I’d been in danger the mont I woke up in this body, in this story, in this role that ended with a public execution and two paragraphs of closure.
The real choice was simpler.
Die on my knees as Kaelen Leone, following the script until it demanded my head.
Or die on my feet as myself, fighting for every inch until I either rewrote this story or it killed for trying.
Not much of a choice when you put it that way.
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