I opened my eyes. The ceiling above me wasn't familiar. White, plain, but… different. Not my apartment. My body felt… light. Like I was floating a little.
A soft knock came at the door.
"Your Highness… are you awake? You've been ill for a few days," a gentle voice said.
Huh? What's she saying? My head felt… weird. I lifted my hands. They looked… smaller? Or is it just the light? Everything felt strange. My body felt like it wasn't mine.
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. The floor was smooth, cold. I stood slowly. Silk sheets, gold trim, heavy curtains. I didn't recognize any of it. And somehow… I felt lighter. Like I wasn't really in my body.
I whispered to myself, more curious than panicked. "I… I don't recognize this room. And… the way I feel… it's like I'm not really me."
I stayed quiet, moving carefully. The palace staff outside murmured, but I barely heard them. This is… strange. But not impossible, I thought.
Two months later…
The wind brushed against my hair as I leaned back on a tree in the palace garden. Big palace. Big trees. Big… everything.
Okay, Lysander. Deep breath. Let's get this straight. I'm no longer Renji. I'm the third son of the king. And apparently… the book I read? That ridiculous prophecy? I'm supposed to lead humanity to conquer the Demon Realm in the future.
Yeah, sure. Me. The office worker who thinks the most dangerous thing is missing a deadline.
I exhaled, letting the breeze wash over me. People expect me to train, to fight, to earn respect, to lead armies. And me? I just want a quiet life. Reading, maybe a nap, maybe nothing. That's it.
I peeked down at the palace staff rushing around. Everyone already treats me like I'm important. Great. I'm supposed to be heroic. And honestly… that's too much work.
I leaned back against the tree trunk, gripping the branch. "Fine. Let's see if a regular shut-in can survive as a royal.... without actually doing anything heroic."
Because really? That's all I want. Just… normal.