That evening, Arthur came to check on Henry. After examining him, he declared that Henry had fully recovered.
Henry didn't know whether to feel relieved because it's time to start his acting.
But now he had another problem.
Obviously, he doesn't want to be a bully but, the real on is one.
So if he is going to play Henry Bryxton he had to go out. Going out meant meeting people. Meeting people meant having to bully them. Bullying them meant punishment. Punishment meant pain.
It was obvious, no matter how he looked at it, he was already doomed if he go on the same path of this person.
But it's odd in the first place, he would even think that. Of course he want to live normally, like the good person he had always been.
'Maybe I should say I regret everything and that I want to be a better person.'
For a second, Henry imagined transforming the name "Henry" into something people could respect instead of fear. But was that even possible? Could he really turn over a new leaf?
'First, I need Ricarda on my side. If I can be friends with her, making friends with others will be easier.'
The plan was simple in theory, but he knew he planned to start from the hardest part.
But that's how he felt things would work.
Ricarda is a good person. If Henry changes and treat her right, who actually matters more here since she is family, others are not that much of a big thing.
Of course, he couldn't just stroll up to her with a smile and say hello. That would be suspicious.
Instead, he could maintain his cold, distant persona, becoming just a little helpful and kind when necessary to past that avoiding era and move onto friends.
Well, Ricarda already knew it had been Henry who tried to kill her so any rash move might ruin his plans though.
'Haa...Should I just run away and start over? That feels easier except when I think about the fact I have no idea about where even I am...'
Henry spent the day planning like that, few eventually getting thrown away as he felt they were impractical.
'Maybe...Befriending Ricarda is a good start...There is still left to save between us, right?'
Henry sighed.
Later that evening, the duke made a sudden, unexpected visit to Henry's room, again, which he wasn't happy about.
When he came, he carried a tiny bottle, which he tossed to Henry.
"Here. Drink it."
Henry picked it up cautiously and sniffed it once before following up with orders.
"Just drink it. It's not poison. Don't worry!" The duke snapped, clearly annoyed by his hesitation.
'The duke wouldn't want Henry dead since he is his only heir...So it would be okay...'
Actually, Henry wanted to refuse, but he couldn't escape the duke's penetrating gaze. It felt like daggers piercing through him and no matter how confident he felt, he couldn't refuse.
It was weird.
Maybe...the real Henry feared this man and it's getting into his head too...
'This guy is scary.'
With a reluctant sigh, he uncapped the bottle and drank it in one gulp, eyes on the guy as they shined in satisfaction.
But then, the taste of it hit him immediately.
Strong...
Scent of iron and...blood.
'What- ah-'
His stomach churned violently. He immedietly gagged, but the duke rushed and swiftly covered his mouth, preventing him from vomiting out.
After a moment, the duke released him. Henry felt dazed and drowsy, the liquid crawling through his veins like a subtle poison.
'P-poison?'
Was his theories wrong?
Does this guy want him dead too?
'Fuck!'
"Bear the sickness a little. Then it'll pass," the duke said, glancing back at him before leaving, not worried about him, who was clearly not feeling good at all.
But...maybe it's not poison after all...
But what was it?
Henry sank back onto the bed, sweat beading on his forehead. He felt nauseous again, but nothing came up.
And then, he heard it.
A scream.
It sounded unmistakably like the duke's voice but he had never heard him scream before. Impossible… a duke, a ruler of the land, screaming?
Henry's eyes snapped toward the door. His heart thudded. For the first time since transmigrating, he felt truly uneasy even more than being in front f the mean guy.
Because he was sure.
There was something.
Outside his door...
Then, the door burst open and Henry, heart racing, hesitantly turned toward the door.
And there stood her...
Ricarda.
But...not her at the same time...
Fear hit him like a wave, sweeping away the sickness in an instant.
"Ricarda?" His voice trembled, strangely weak and rough, as if the blood he'd drunk had coated his tongue with iron.
It wasn't the same Ricarda he had seen earlier. Her hair, once golden, was now a deep, vivid red, like spilled blood. The color alone sent chills down his spine.
She wore a white nightgown, stained with blood. In her hand gleamed a knife, held with deadly precision. She strode toward his bed.
"Ricarda?" he whispered again, panic rising, but she ignored him.
He really thought he was maybe dreaming...
But...he was not.
She climbed onto the bed, straddling him, knife raised. Before he could react, the blade pierced his chest.
Pain exploded through him. His vision blurred. He closed his eyes, sweat pouring down his face, shock and pain giving him the same sense of confusion from before.
Henry couldn't move. He could barely breathe. Through the haze of pain, he glimpsed her face, obscured by her now-loose crimson hair. And for a brief, horrifying moment, her eyes, once sapphire blue, flashed red.
"Go to hell!" she hissed, yanking the knife free with terrifying force.
Henry's world went dark. The sound of her cruel laughter echoed in his ears, filling every corner of his mind.
'Aagh! N-no...This...c-can't be...'
Henry's heart gradully slowed down, then stopping as the last warm breath, leaving him confused and horrified.
.
.
.
But then…he opened his eyes. Wide and...alive.
"Ha… ha… agh! Ahh! Ha!" He gasped, bolting upright, his chest pounding as his hands immedietly went to his chest.
There was no wound.
And all that left was confusion.
'T-that was definetely a dream, right? Gosh! It define-'
"Cough! Cough!"
Henry started coughing from the dry throat when he started laughing in relief.
Not soon after, a maid burst into the room, holding a plate of food and a glass of water.
"Young master, are you all right?" she asked, voice filled with concern, handing him the water. Henry drank it greedily, finishing it in one gulp.
"You had a nightmare. You've sweated a lot," she said softly.
Young master? Me? Henry thought, his mind still reeling.
'...They are still kind to Henry even after everything he had done. Maybe they are scared too...'
The room was quiet again, but the lingering echoes of fear, blood, and Ricarda's red-eyed glare haunted him.
It kind of felt so real...
'I am glad it was just a dream.'
But...
He is about to find out.
It wasn't a dream at all...