Three days locked inside a room that wasn't his, inside a body he was still struggling to accept.
On the fourth…
Lusian walked out.
No permission.
No warning.
He simply opened the door… and left.
The Douglas castle corridors were too wide.
Too silent.
Too perfect.
Every step echoed across polished marble, returning a sound that didn't belong to him.
Umber walked beside him.
So close… he could feel its breath.
Warm.
Constant.
Present.
Lusian didn't look at it.
But he felt it.
Always.
Protection…
or surveillance.
He still wasn't sure.
—Are you following me now too, Monica?
He didn't stop walking. Only tilted his head slightly, a half-smile that didn't quite feel real.
Behind him, soft footsteps.
Controlled.
Monica.
Albert's daughter.
Sophia's assistant.
An observer.
Always observing.
The faint sound of her glasses adjusting was the only thing that broke the silence before she answered.
—It is not following, my lord.
Her voice was clean.
Emotional.
Controlled.
—It is supervision.
Lusian let out a small laugh.
Of course.
Of course it was.
—The duchess ordered me to ensure you don't get into trouble again.
Again.
Lusian raised an eyebrow.
—Again? —he repeated, barely turning his head—. I only died once. I don't think that counts as "trouble."
Silence.
Monica blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Real confusion.
Lusian smiled.
And kept walking.
The castle wasn't just large.
It was… overwhelming.
Open halls like plazas.
Walls covered in weapons.
Swords that weren't decorative.
Armors that had been used.
Trophies.
Beasts.
Skulls.
History.
Violence.
All of it there.
All of it real.
None of it was a 3D model.
None of it was made to look pretty.
There was weight.
There was history.
There was death.
He stopped in front of a sword.
Black.
With faintly glowing runes.
He didn't touch it.
But he felt it.
Like the air around it was… charged.
This isn't a game…
The thought came on its own.
Late.
Useless.
…it never was.
Days passed.
And the problem appeared.
Not suddenly.
Not dramatically.
Worse.
Silently.
Persistently.
Lusian sat down.
Closed his eyes.
Breathed.
Again.
And again.
He remembered how it worked.
He had done it hundreds of times.
In the game, mana was almost natural.
A flow.
A current.
Something already there… waiting to be used.
So he searched.
Inside.
Deeper.
Beyond the body.
Beyond thought.
Nothing.
He tried again.
More focus.
More pressure.
More desperation.
Nothing.
No flow.
No vibration.
No pulse.
Only…
emptiness.
He opened his eyes.
His breathing was uneven.
Tense.
—Come on… —he muttered—. Come on…
Again.
Again.
Again—
Nothing.
The silence inside him wasn't calm.
It wasn't peace.
It was absence.
And in this world…
that wasn't a weakness.
It was a sentence.
Lusian rested his elbows on his knees.
Looked at his hands.
They were strong.
Trained.
Real.
But useless.
If he couldn't use mana…
it didn't matter what level he was.
It didn't matter what name he had.
It didn't matter what blood he carried.
He would die.
The thought wasn't dramatic.
It was logical.
Cold.
Inevitable.
Days later—
Sophia decided to travel.
No consultation.
No explanation.
She simply did.
The journey was long.
But when they arrived…
Lusian felt it immediately.
Thruin.
The air was different.
More alive.
More human.
Voices.
Laughter.
People.
Movement.
The market was crowded.
Too crowded.
Vendors shouting.
Children running.
Carriages passing so close he had to step aside.
The smell—
fresh bread.
grilled meat.
herbs.
life.
Lusian stood still for a moment.
Watching.
Feeling.
Everything.
This feels real.
Wooden houses.
Balconies filled with flowers.
Lanterns.
Walls.
Everything had history.
But also… peace.
And then—
he remembered.
Ruins.
The same place.
But broken.
Destroyed.
Empty.
Collapsed buildings.
Dried blood.
Claw marks.
Too large.
Too deep.
Lusian tensed.
His gaze swept the street again.
The same.
But not.
No destruction.
No death.
None of it.
Only people.
Living.
—No… —he murmured.
Too low.
This isn't right.
His memory wasn't wrong.
He had played this map.
Walked through those ruins.
Fought there.
But that—
hadn't happened yet.
The air grew heavier.
Not with magic.
With understanding.
This is the past.
And that—
that was the future.
A chill ran down his spine.
Not fear.
Something worse.
Awareness.
Every corner he saw now…
could become that.
Every person.
Every laugh.
Every child running between horses…
could disappear.
And he—
had already seen it.
His breathing slowed.
More controlled.
But his mind…
didn't stop.
How do you change something that already happened?
No.
Worse.
How do you prevent something…
when every step you take might cause it?
Lusian clenched his fists slightly.
Without noticing.
Because in that moment, he understood something the game never taught him.
This was real, and if he wanted to survive…
he would have to change that future.
But how?