Chapter 2: The Fractured Body and the Weight of Royalty

Ethan sat motionless on the ornate bed, his golden eyes locked onto his reflection in the mirror. A pale, sickly boy stared back at him—hollow cheeks, frail limbs, and an air of fragility that seemed to weigh down even the regal silk robes draped over his body. It wasn't the shock of seeing a stranger's face that unnerved him; it was the realization that this face belonged to Alistair Drakos, the twelfth prince of the Holy Drakos Empire.

Memories—fragmented, distant—began to surface. A weak prince, overlooked and forgotten. The youngest son, locked away in the palace's depths, a mere shadow among his towering siblings. He had been Ethan Fang, a man of power and control in his previous life, not a feeble, disregarded royal. And yet, here he was, trapped in a body that could barely support itself.

A choked sob interrupted his thoughts.

Ethan turned, startled, and found a woman kneeling at his bedside. Her hands trembled as they covered her mouth, tears streaming down her face. Mira. His memories provided the name—his personal maid, the one who had cared for Alistair through sickness and solitude.

"Your Highness…" Mira's voice wavered, thick with emotion. "You have awakened… The gods have not forsaken you after all."

Her sobs grew louder, her frail frame shaking as she pressed her forehead to the floor. Ethan—Alistair—felt an unfamiliar warmth in his chest. This woman, unlike the rest of the royal household, truly cared.

He swallowed, his throat dry. "Mira… I…" The words felt foreign on his lips. His voice, weaker than he remembered, cracked slightly.

Mira lifted her tear-streaked face, eyes filled with relief. "Your Highness, please do not strain yourself! You have been unwell for so long. The palace physicians feared…" She bit her lip, unwilling to finish the sentence.

Ethan glanced down at his trembling hands. This was not just a new life—it was a prison. A body that could not keep up with his ambitions. A life already deemed insignificant.

No. He refused to accept that.

Taking a slow, shaky breath, he steadied himself. "I… will get stronger."

Mira's eyes widened. Alistair had never spoken such words before. The prince she had cared for had accepted his fate with silent resignation. But now, there was something different in his gaze—a fire that had never been there before.

Before she could respond, the chamber doors creaked open. A second maid entered, her posture rigid and expression unreadable.

"Your Highness," she spoke carefully, her tone carrying an underlying weight. "The king… has ordered an audience with you."

The moment the words left her lips, the air in the room shifted.

A suffocating force pressed against Ethan's chest, an overwhelming aura that made it hard to breathe. His hands instinctively curled into fists as an unnatural silence filled the chamber. The mere mention of the king's name sent a shiver through Mira, who lowered her gaze to the floor, her face draining of color.

Ethan's mind raced. The king—his father. A man he had no clear memories of, yet the weight of his presence was undeniable. The reaction of those around him spoke volumes. This was not a meeting he could afford to take lightly.

His golden eyes darkened with resolve. So be it.

This meeting would determine his place in this world, and he would not falter.