Chapter 15: The First Step

Juhtmed's grip tightened around the windowsill as he gazed out over the city. The people below moved around carefree - merchants hurled their wares, noble carriages rolled through the streets, servants hurried about their morning chores. It was a city on the move, oblivious to what was going on behind the palace walls.

Lian's words lingered in his mind. If you don't give him any, he'll decide things for you.

He let out a quiet breath. It wasn't a warning—it was a fact. How is father has been portraying by Lian he must have always controlled juhtmed life, pushing him into the shadows while favoring his two elder brother.

But this was different.

If Nerisa's words were true if he really was connected to the Verevihm, to whatever vengeance was written in the prophecy—then what did that mean for him?

And what would the Emperor do if he found out?

He must wouldn't tolerate threats to his rule, even from his own blood.

Juhtmed turned away from the window, finally meeting Lian's gaze. "What do you think I should do?"

She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she walked across the room, her steps slow, deliberate. "That depends," she said at last, crossing her arms. "Do you want to tell him the truth?"

Juhtmed scoffed. "You already know the answer to that."

Lian studied him for a long moment, then sighed. "Then you need to decide what lie you're going to tell."

Juhtmed felt a flicker of something close to amusement. "You're very pragmatic about this."

"I'm practical," Lian corrected. "I know how dangerous this is."

Juhtmed ran a hand over his face, exhaustion creeping into his bones. "I don't even know what I'm hiding yet."

That was the real question, wasn't it?

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

A servant stepped inside, bowing quickly. "His Majesty summons you, Your Highness."

Juhtmed exhaled through his nose. Of course.

Lian didn't say anything, but he felt her gaze on him as he pushed off the desk. He straightened his posture, smoothing out the creases in his tunic. No matter how prepared he was, standing before Kunin Valgus never failed to feel like walking into a battle unarmed.

He turned to Lian. "I suppose I don't have much time after all."

She didn't smile, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—something close to understanding.

"Be careful," she said simply.

Juhtmed didn't answer as he stepped past the servant, heading toward the throne room.

He pass by the grand hall of the palace. The golden light from the tall stained-glass windows cast long shadows across the marble floor, making the room feel both holy and oppressive.

At the far end of the hall, Kunin Valgus sat upon his throne.

Even at this early hour, the emperor was an imposing figure. Clad in deep blue robes lined with golden embroidery. His features were sharp. His expression was unreadable.

Juhtmed approached, keeping his steps measured, his expression neutral. 

He stopped a few paces away and bowed. "Your Majesty."

A pause.

Then his father spoke. "I received word of your return." His voice was smooth, but laced with quiet expectation. "And yet, I have received no report."

Juhtmed kept his face impassive. "There was little to report. We found nothing of use."

The emperor's gaze was piercing. "Nothing?"

Juhtmed met his father's eyes, steady. "Nothing."

A long silence stretched between them.

Then, finally, the emperor leaned back in his throne. "Very well."

Juhtmed didn't let his relief show.

"I have other matters to attend to," Kunin continued. "For now, you are dismissed."

Juhtmed bowed again, stepping back before turning on his heel.

As he reached the doors, his father spoke one last time.

"But do not mistake my patience for ignorance."

He didn't stop walking.

He knew what he meant.

I will find the truth, whether you tell me or not.

And that, more than anything, was what unsettled him the most.

By the time Juhtmed returned to his quarters, Lian was still there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. She studied him as he stepped inside, searching his expression for anything useful.

He sighed. "It went as expected."

She raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"

"Meaning he doesn't believe me, but he's waiting to see how much of a problem I'm going to be." Juhtmed walked toward the desk, rubbing his temples. "Which means I need to be careful."

Lian nodded slowly. "Then what's your next move?"

Juhtmed let out a dry laugh. "I have no idea."

And that was the truth.

He had spent his whole life being insignificant, never questioning his place in this world. But now?

Now, everything had changed.

Nerisa had given him a new purpose.

He could ignore her, pretend none of this had ever happened, and go back to being the forgotten prince of an empire that didn't need him.

Or he could start looking for the truth.

Juhtmed sat down heavily in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

Lian, watching him closely, finally spoke. "You don't have to decide everything right now."

Juhtmed let out a quiet breath. "No," he murmured. "But sooner or later, I will."

Because one way or another, the truth would find him.

And when it did—there would be no turning back.

Juhtmed leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, his father's words lingering in his mind.

"Do not mistake my patience for ignorance."

That was a warning. A quiet, veiled threat. The Emperor suspected something, and if Juhtmed wasn't careful, he'd soon find himself ensnared in a web he couldn't escape.

His grip tightened on the armrest.

It was frustrating.

Ever since he had woken up in this body, he had been forced to play a character without knowing him. He didn't had the memories of the original Juhtmed, originally in novel you either had all the memory or a part of it. He knew just enough to act—but everything deeper, everything personal, was a fog.

And the worst part? He was weak.

Physically, he was pathetic. This body lacked stamina, lacked strength. considering he doing well with body in sleep for 6 month was already a miracle. If he wanted to change his fate, if he wanted to stop being someone who was always reacting, then there was only one path forward.

He had to become stronger.

Lian shifted where she stood, watching him carefully. "You are thinking too much your highness."

Juhtmed exhaled sharply. "I get the feeling you'll say that a lot."

She gave him a knowing look. "And I'll be right every time."

Despite himself, he smirked. But then, his expression turned serious.

"I need to train."

Lian's brow furrowed. "Train?"

"My body is weak," he admitted, flexing his fingers.

She studied him, as if searching for hesitation. "You're serious about this, you always avoid any type of training younger."

"I guess the time force me into it."

Lian nodded slowly. "Then you'll need a teacher."

Juhtmed already knew who to ask.

Kaitsja was still at the training ground at the same time. Juhtmed found him at the training grounds, overseeing a group of young knights-in-training.

The air smelled of sweat and steel, the sound of wooden swords clashing filling the space.

Juhtmed stepped forward. "I need you to train me Kaitsja."

Kaitsja didn't look up. "No."

Juhtmed blinked. "What?"

The warrior continued sharpening his blade. "You're weak, its obvious you never lift any weight or do something physical."

Juhtmed's jaw tightened. "That's why I need training."

 Kaitsjavglancing at him. "Look your highness i like to see you come to see me to train you but..your lucky to be alive after everything we got through."

Juhtmed exhaled through his nose, frustration curling in his chest. He expected resistance, but not outright dismissal.

He could leave. He could demand another teacher—someone softer, someone more willing to do it.

But he didn't want that.

He wanted Kaitsja to do it.

"Then let me prove I'm worth it."

Kaitsja raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I'll do whatever you say," Juhtmed said. "No complaints. No backing down. If I fail, then you can send me away."

Then, Kaitsja smirked. It was not a kind expression.

"Fine," he said. "Run."

Juhtmed frowned. "Run?"

Kaitsja nodded toward the training field. "Around the courtyard. Until I say stop."

Juhtmed exhaled. Easy enough.

He turned and started jogging.

Ten minutes in, he was gasping for breath.

Twenty minutes in, his legs began to ache.

By thirty minutes, he was struggling to move his feet.

And Kaitsja still hadn't told him to stop.

Juhtmed gritted his teeth, pushing forward. He refused to collapse. He refused to show weakness.

But his body had other ideas.

His vision blurred, his steps wavered, and then—he fell.

His knees hit the dirt, his arms trembling.

Juhtmed clenched his fists, his breath ragged.

But that didn't mean he would stay this way.

With effort, he pushed himself up again. His limbs screamed in protest, his lungs burned—but he forced himself to stand.

Kaitsja studied him for a long moment.

Then, finally, he nodded.

"Come back tomorrow."

Juhtmed wiped the sweat from his brow.

He would.

And the next day.

And the next.

Because if he wanted to change his fate—this was the only way forward.