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Chapter 2 - The Smile Beneath the Throne

David's consciousness was slowly pulled—

a sensation like someone drowning, suddenly yanked to the surface in a single snap.

His eyes shot open. Instinctively, he knelt upright.

"Where… is this?"

He looked at both hands.

"I'm… already dead?" he muttered to himself in confusion.

"A cup?"

He noticed a luxurious glass still clutched in his hand.

His gaze wandered. A red liquid stained the floor, right where his head had been moments earlier.

In the middle of his confusion, a sound echoed:

[Ding!]

A holographic screen appeared right in front of David.

[Congratulations. Your soul has transmigrated by permission of the Creator. Please live your new life wholeheartedly.]

"What?" David frowned, about to ask something.

But the screen shattered into tiny black particles and vanished before his eyes.

He stood up and turned around, taking in his surroundings—

the entire room was filled with lavish medieval décor.

The clothes he wore were clean… still warm.

He spotted a mirror across the room.

"A bed?" he muttered as he walked closer.

"Is this… a bedroom?"

"This?"

David stared into the mirror. A sharp jawline.

Slightly brown hair.

"My face? With different hair? What the fuck?"

He took a step back.

Then inhaled deeply to calm himself.

"Reincar—no… transmigration," he muttered, setting down the ornate glass he'd been holding all this time.

Knock… knock…

A knock echoed from the grand wooden door.

David turned toward the sound.

He saw a richly adorned door, carved in aristocratic design.

He walked toward it slowly—mind spinning, unsure what to expect.

"Your Majesty..."

A deep voice called from outside.

David's steps froze. "Majesty?" he muttered, frowning.

The knock came again, prompting him to move forward once more.

David slowly opened the door.

An old man in formal attire stood outside, bowing deeply.

"Your Majesty," the man greeted again, his tone calm and full of reverence.

David remained silent, his brow furrowed.

What did he just call me? he thought, still confused.

The servant kept his head down.

"This morning, the generals and high lords have gathered in the council hall, as per your orders yesterday."

"Generals? High lords?"

"Shall I bring you the small crown, or would you prefer your usual attire, Your Majesty?"

David didn't respond.

His eyes scanned past the old man into the hallway beyond.

Two guards stood firm—silent and motionless.

Golden armor. Purple capes.

"…A throne chair…"

"…A portrait of himself on the wall, wearing regal robes…"

He stepped back.

Turned to the mirror again.

A new face.

A noble's jawline.

Eyes that once looked soft—now replaced by his own cold stare.

"Don't tell me…"

David walked toward the large chair in the corner of the room.

A crimson mantle was draped across it.

A scepter lay beneath the desk.

He pressed a hand to his forehead.

You've got to be kidding me…

I'm… a fucking king?

David grinned.

Without bothering to question what was happening, he straightened his posture and said,

"Gather all my citizens in front of the palace. I want to greet them all..."

The old servant flinched, standing up in shock.

"Your Majesty, the people are still busy with their daily duties..."

David glanced at him.

The servant trembled slightly.

Then David smiled—

a light chuckle escaped his lips.

"Hahah... I'm just joking," he said warmly.

The servant exhaled in relief.

"Gather them at dusk."

David's tone turned firm.

The servant froze, unable to defy the sharp gaze of the man before him.

"…Understood, Your Majesty. I shall take my leave," he said with another deep bow.

David nodded.

"Yes, I permit it. Remember your task well—nobles, slaves, commoners… they all must gather at dusk."

The servant bowed again and turned to leave.

David stepped back into the room he had awoken in.

The old man walked slowly, his steps heavy.

"What happened to him? He used to be so calm… so warm. Now, there's something cruel in his eyes. It's only been three days since he took the throne… and yet he's already changed."

He paused, glancing back at the door behind him.

"Is he still... Caelan Veridius?" 

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