My face was still red. The image of my supposed adoptive-sister, half-dressed, was seared into my mind. And her voice, shouting "KAI!" – it echoed in the silent hallway.
I just wish for the floor to swallow whole. How could I have been so stupid? So careless? I had just narrowly escaped the butler scrutiny, only to walk straight into an even more awkward, potentially compromising situation. My cheeks still felt hot, even as I forced myself to walk away, trying to project an air of nonchalance I was far from feeling.
I kept walking, putting as much distance as possible between myself and that particular door. The long corridor stretched out before , lined with more of the Sapphire family’s exquisite taste. The walls were adorned with large paintings depicting serene landscapes, heroic figures, and stoic family ancestors, their blue hair a constant, vivid trait through generations.
Between the paintings stood elegant marble sculptures, classical figures frozen in graceful poses, their pale forms gleaming under the soft light filtering from the windows. Every detail established a deep appreciation for beauty.
As I moved deeper into the manor, the sounds of the household causally faded and was replaced by a hushed quiet. It was like entering a different wing, a more private, secluded area. I passed a door that was slightly ajar, and a low murmur of voices ca from it. My ears perked up. One of the voices was unmistakably Lord Sapphire’s.
Curiosity got the better of . I slowed my pace, trying to appear as if I were rely admiring a nearby painting, while subtly angling my body to listen. Lord Sapphire’s voice was a low rumble, difficult to understand. I couldn’t make out full sentences, just fragnted words.
I crept closer, my movents as quiet as I could make them. As I neared the door, leaning in ever so slightly, a few words finally beca clear, chilling to the bone.
"...let his will be done."
My breath hitched. Let whose will be done? The phrase hung in the air, with unspoken aning. It sounded ominous, almost ritualistic. My mind imdiately jumped to the darker aspects of fantasy novels – secret cults, hidden agendas, powerful entities.
My mind drifted with subtle thoughts: Was Lord Sapphire involved in sothing like that?
Just as I was about to inch even closer, trying to catch more, a new voice, deep and resonant, spoke from within the room. It wasn’t Lord Sapphire’s. It was a voice I hadn’t heard before, a voice that carried an unsettling weight.
"I sense soone at the door."
That wasn’t a normal thing to say. That sounded like canny. Or so kind of heightened awareness. I had been caught. Again. My luck, as the system had so helpfully pointed out, was still at -5.
Panic seized . I didn’t wait. I didn’t think. I just reacted. I ran from the door. I ran, not knowing where I was going, just needing to get away. I went down the nearest left aisle, a narrow passage I hadn’t noticed before. It was a desperate gamble, but I had to disappear.
I burst through the first door I ca to, slamming it shut behind , my chest heaving. I leaned against the heavy wood, eyes squeezed shut, listening. Silence. No footsteps, no voices, just the frantic pounding of my own heart.
After a brief second of relief, I opened my eyes and took a deep, heavy breath. The room was moderate in size, not as grand as the sitting rooms, but comfortable. It was decorated in a more subdued palette, still with hints of blue, but also warm browns and muted greens. A large, four-poster bed stood against one wall, draped with simple, elegant hangings. A sturdy wooden desk sat by a window.
My gaze drifted to the wall opposite the bed. Hanging there, prominently displayed, was a portrait. A painted image of a young man.
My breath caught in my throat.
It was my face.
The sa black hair, the sa eyes, the sa nose. It was Kai Lorne. It was .
At first, a wave of sheer terror washed over . But then, the fear gave way to a dawning, profound understanding. This wasn’t just a painting of a Kai Lorne. This was a painting of this Kai Lorne, the adopted son of the Sapphire family.
The role inversion. It hadn’t just swapped my fate with the original adopted son; it had rewritten reality itself. My appearance, my presence, my entire history within this family – it had all been seamlessly integrated. This portrait was proof. This was the full extent of the Narrative Override Engine’s power.
A wave of certainty washed over . This had to be it. This had to be the adopted son’s room. My room.
My eyes scanned the desk. Lying there, next to a quill and an inkpot, was a small, leather-bound journal. It looked old, its cover worn smooth with use. Curiosity compelled to pick it up.
As I touched the cover, a familiar blue shimr appeared, followed by a clear digital prompt:
[ DO YOU WISH TO ADD ITEM TO INVENTORY ]
[ YES/NO ]
My heart skipped a beat. An item! And the system was asking if I wanted to add it to my inventory. This was like the novels. This was how it worked.
Without hesitation, I ntally selected [YES].
The journal in my hand shimred, pixelated rapidly, and then, with a soft pop, vanished into thin air.
Imdiately, a new ssage flashed on the system screen:
[ ADDED TO INVENTORY ]
Olberic. it was it. The original adopted son’s na. The one whose fate I had swapped with. The one who died in the arena in my place. This was his diary.
I knew the basic operations of the system from my extensive reading. I waved my hand, a gesture that felt strangely natural now, and the blue screen reappeared, shifting to the inventory section.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
INVENTORY
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Olberic Diary
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
There it was. The single item. I ntally selected it. The screen shimred again, and with another soft pixelated pop, the journal rematerialized in my hand.
I quickly opened the first page and scanned the first line, my breath catching in my throat.
"If you’re reading this, that ans that I’m dead. The Sapphire family... They aren’t who they say they are.."
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