"It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live."
***
A maid walked in before I could even say 'come in'. She was middle aged with graying hair being held together by a tight bun that had to be affecting her circulation in some way. It was at least affecting her hairline.
"Young Master Kaelen." Her tone made it clear this wasn't her first rodeo with the morning wake-up call. "I trust you slept well?"
I tried to respond. What came out was a noise like a dying frog.
Good shit Alex. Way to sell the 'totally normal Kaelen who obviously owns this body" act.
I mean, what exactly was I supposed to say to that question? Hey, funny story, I'm actually a college student from this realm called earth who uses this world and story of yours for ten minutes of entertainment. I spent the last bit of my life raging about the guy who's skin I am currently inhabiting. Any chance we can do a rain check on whatever is happening today?
"I..." My throat felt like sandpaper. "Fine. I slept fine."
Nailed it.
"I have already prepared your morning attire Young Master." She gestured to a large chair where there were expertly crafted black garments laid out. They looked simple to the eyes of someone from the 21st century but I have read enough medieval fantasy novels to know high quality clothing when I see it.
"Your cousin Leo Von Valerius awaits you in the courtyard for your... meeting"
Meeting.
Ah shit.
I knew exactly what that meant. Chapter 7 of Heirs of the Azure Orb. The scene where Leo, beloved protagonist and golden boy extraordinaire, beat the ever-loving crap out of Kaelen in front of half the estate. Something about harassing a servant girl who'd turned him down. The novel had framed it as righteous justice, the hero standing up for the powerless against a scumbag noble who abused his position.
The readers back in my world had eaten it up. I remembered the comments. "Finally someone putting that trash where he belongs!" "Leo is such a good guy, I stan!"
All those comments, all that cheering, and now I was the guy about to get his face rearranged for crimes I didn't commit.
"I... perhaps we could postpone—" My voice cracked like a thirteen-year-old going through puberty.
"No can do, Young Master Leo was very insistent. He mentioned that any delays can prolong the meeting."
Yep, nothing screams 'heroic protagonist' like prolonging a beat down for being a few minutes late.
The maid turned to leave, then stopped with her hand on the door.
"Young Master, if I may offer some advice?"
I nodded. At this point I'd take advice from a talking squirrel if it meant surviving the next hour.
"Accept your punishment with dignity. Young Master Leo is... merciful to those who show proper remorse."
Merciful. In the novel, Leo's mercy meant stopping before he broke anything that couldn't be healed by a good doctor. What a prince among men.
The door closed behind her with a click that sounded way too final.
I stood there in silence where the only thing I could hear is the fast thump thump thump of my heart and the static in my ears. I looked down to see my hands shaking and they wouldn't stop shaking no matter what I did.
This was real. This was actually happening. No alarm clock was going to save me. No "it was all a dream" cop-out.
Okay. Okay. Stop panicking. You know the story. Use that.
I forced myself to breathe slower. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Some technique my ex had tried to teach me before she got sick of my emotional unavailability and found someone better. At least those sessions were finally paying off.
Think. What do you know?
In about thirty minutes, Kaelen will be walking into that courtyard where Leo and his entourage waited like a welcoming committee from hell.
In the novel, Kaelen would be throwing around his family name like it meant shit despite House Leone's influence being on a steady decline for years. Leo would have to explain Kaelen's wrongdoings in front of everyone watching. The dirty laundry would be aired of Kaelen harassing the help, using his position to demand "favors" from them, and other scumbag behavior that's fine when the protagonist does it but a problem when the scumbag villain does it.
After that, the "lesson" would start.
I could almost feel it already. The crack of ribs under Leo's boot. A shoulder wrenched the wrong direction. Blood in my mouth. The novel described it in detail that bordered on gratuitous: a week in bed, every breath a reminder of what happened to villains who stepped out of line.
The readers had loved it. They'd left comments about how satisfying it was. How Kaelen deserved every hit.
But I hadn't done any of that. I hadn't harassed anyone. I hadn't abused servants. I was just some idiot who'd stayed up too late writing angry comments about fictional characters.
Cosmic irony at its finest.
I shoved the existential breakdown aside. Crisis mode. Think about solutions.
Running? Where the fuck would I go? The only thing Kaelen Leone had of value was his last name. And any of that value outside of these walls got instantly erased because of his first name.
Fighting back? With what, these noodle arms? The original Kaelen had zero combat training. I could feel it in the weakness of this body, the way my muscles seemed to protest at the idea of any physical activity more strenuous than walking.
That left option three. Take the beating. Survive. Figure out the rest later.
Not a great plan. Definitely not a dignified plan. But it was all I had.
Unless...