Royalty

The woman who had entered my room earlier had only been gone for a few minutes when I heard footsteps.

Not just one pair—multiple. A hurried storm of people rushing down the hallway.

My body tensed despite its weakness, instincts honed from years of training screaming at me. One unshakable truth had been drilled into my being as an assassin: when a group of people ran toward you, it usually meant trouble.

Then, the door slammed open.

"Kaito!"

A man strode in first, his presence sharp and commanding. He was dressed in a midnight-blue kimono lined with silver accents, but even without armor, his years on the battlefield were evident. Broad shoulders, sharp gaze, calloused hands—all dead giveaways.

He was strong.

He was dangerous.

Beside him, a woman entered, her silk robe embroidered with golden cranes flowing around her . Unlike the man's imposing aura, hers was one of quiet authority, refined and graceful. Her long, jet-black hair was tied in a traditional bun, held in place by an orange jade hairpin.

Her piercing amber eyes met mine—and softened instantly.

The woman—no, my mother—rushed forward, kneeling beside my bed.

"Kaito… my son… how do you feel?"

…Is this what motherly love feels like?

"My head hurts," I admitted. It was the truth—my skull throbbed with a dull, persistent pain.

"Of course it does," my father grunted, arms crossed. "You've been unconscious for three months."

Wait—three months?!

So… the real Kaito died during these three months? I'm just inhabiting a dead boy's body?

GAHH, I wasn't asking you!

Meanwhile, my new mother was cupping my face, her fingers tracing along my skin searching for wounds. "The doctor said there were no external injuries, yet your fever burned like an inferno…" Her voice wavered, but she held herself together.

"I'm fine," I muttered—though my words came out muffled as her hands pressed against my mouth.

My father, who had been silently glaring at me this entire time, finally spoke again.

"Kaito."

I flinched. That was the voice of a man who once commanded armies.

"You may be the youngest, but you are still my son. A Ryoma does not show weakness."

Ah. So he was one of those fathers.

I swallowed the urge to tell him that I had personally assassinated high-profile rulers in my past life. Somehow, I doubted that would be the most… childlike thing to say.

Instead, I gave a respectful nod. "Understood… Father." The word felt foreign on my tongue, unnatural.

A flicker of approval crossed his face before he turned to my mother. "He'll be fine. He has the blood of the Ryoma coursing through him, after all."

She sighed, relief washing over her features. "Then we'll let him rest. We can discuss everything later."

My father gave a curt nod and turned toward the door. Before stepping out, he cast one last glance at me, his expression unreadable.

"We'll speak soon, Kaito."

And just like that, he was gone.

I exhaled. It felt like I had passed some kind of test.

My mother lingered for a moment longer, making sure I didn't need anything else before finally leaving. Though, not before mentioning that my siblings would want to see me soon.

Wait. Siblings?

I had barely wrapped my head around having parents—now I had brothers and sisters, too?

I exhaled, rubbing my temples.

Too much, too fast.

Parents. Siblings. A new life. A new world.

I needed answers. Now.

"Sage." My voice dropped, firm and quiet. "Tell me everything."

Then, a flood of knowledge crashed into me

The land we were in was called Seiryuu, named after the dragon that once threatened to consume it whole. That dragon was slain by a noble samurai—Kenshiro Ryoma, The Dragon Slayer.

So… my ancestor was a legendary warrior?

…Just how dangerous was that dragon for a man to gain eternal honor across generations?

Tch. That sucks. He seemed like an interesting man.

What? Someone sabotaged a twelve-year-old kid's ability to use Ki?

Training? I planned on doing that soon anyway. First, I need to understand my situation completely.

Huh. So the man who just left my room was that kind of warrior. No wonder he carries himself like a living weapon.

I see… so there's a succession battle?

I see. In my old world, the king successor had to be part of the Aldric bloodline.

But this is different, the six noble clans?

So the strongest of the strong.

I exhaled. This world was beginning to make sense, but there was still so much to uncover.

A legendary bloodline, a ruthless father, a prodigious older brother, and a upcoming succession battle.

Things were about to get interesting.