My consciousness returned like a cold knife piercing my skull.
First, faint voices, then, clear ones. The stench of fear-induced sweat, gunpowder, and blood was replaced by the heavy scent of incense and the smell of decaying flowers in a vase.
"Prince Aurelian, please wake up..."
I forced my eyes open.
It wasn't the dark ceiling of my room. Instead, I saw a high ceiling decorated with frescoes of gods and crystal chandeliers reflecting the light of candles.
"Prince! You're awake!"
An old man in a blue robe approached with teary eyes. Several people in simple clothes bowed behind him.
"Where…" My voice faltered. "…am I?"
The sound startled me.
It was young. Smooth. Untouched by cigarettes, shouting orders, or screaming through pain.
"In the Royal Palace of Valeria, Your Highness," the old man said, voice trembling with relief. "This is your bedchamber."
I slowly raised my hand.
It was a slender, pale hand, without the snake tattoo and the calluses from years of holding a gun.
My body also felt light and unfamiliar. This wasn't my old body, the body of Viktor Dragov, a thirty-six-year-old man with a bullet wound in his chest and a knife wound in his stomach.
I closed my eyes again. Foreign memories flooded my mind, merging with my consciousness, which was accustomed to processing a barrage of information. My head ached terribly.
I was Prince Aurelian Valerius, the third son of King Alistair of the Kingdom of Valeria. My mother, the queen, had died long ago. I was known as the "little prince" or "the weak one." I was a young man who preferred poetry, music, and gardens to politics or swords. I had just fallen from my horse while hunting. Actually, I was pushed and fell into a coma for three days.
I, Viktor, died in a shootout with the Bratva family at the port. The last bullet hit my throat. Darkness. Then...this.
Reincarnation? Time travel? Madness during the final moments of death? It doesn't matter. What matters is that I'm alive. I'm inside the body of a prince whose position is more fragile than a plastic fork.
"Water," I croaked, but the tone and intonation sounded foreign to my own ears.
A servant quickly handed me a silver cup. I drank the cold water, feeling it slide down my throat. My senses began to function better.
Gideon, Aurelian's mentor and a former scholar who was now a loyal guardian, wiped away tears. "Thank the gods! We were afraid you wouldn't wake up." The competition for Crown Prince will begin in a month, and if you weren't present..."
Crown Prince. The position of heir to the throne. King Alistair was old and sickly. He had not yet appointed an official successor. There were three main candidates: Prince Cassian, the first son of the queen and a respected but cruel general; The second was Prince Finnian, the second son of a high-ranking concubine. He was clever and popular among the nobility. And... Aurelian, the youngest and considered useless, was seen as a puppet to be controlled.
In my previous life, I was Viktor Dragov, the leader of the largest underground organization in the port city. I built it from scratch, defeating stronger enemies with cunning, cruelty, and a deep understanding of human psychology. Now, I am in the body of a prince whose position is more fragile than thin ice in spring.
"Gideon," I said in Aurelian's voice but with Viktor's flat, authoritative intonation. "Who visited while I was unconscious?"
Gideon was startled, perhaps by my change in demeanor, but he answered. "Prince Cassian sent his physician. Prince Finnian sent flowers. Some lesser nobles came, perhaps to see your condition." The Empress has not sent anything."
Spying. They were assessing whether I was dead. Politics is a business, just like my old organization. Here, though, the weapons are words, marriages, and poison, not just bullets.
"And my father?"
His Majesty asked. Then...no more."
Not surprising. Aurelian was not an asset, he was a useless piece of junk.
I pushed the blanket aside and stood up. My body was weak and my muscles were untrained. But that could be changed. What mattered was the mind. Viktor's mind was already here.
"Bring a mirror."
The servant carried a large, silver mirror. The face reflected in it made me freeze and almost made me nauseous. The face was too handsome, almost feminine. It had rare purple eyes ("Blessed Purple Eyes"), curly black hair, and porcelain skin. It was a face easily broken. The perfect weapon.
"Prince Aurelian died in that accident," I whispered to my reflection. "What woke up is something else."
Gideon looked worried. "Prince?"
I turned away from the mirror. "Get ready with some simple clothes. I want to walk in the garden alone. Alone."
"But the doctor—"
"I'm healed," I cut him off. The authority in my voice caused Gideon to bow unconsciously.
I walked through the palace gardens, observing. The palace was both a fortress and a network of power. I saw servants whispering and guards looking indifferent. I saw a young nobleman look at me with contempt before turning away.
Aurelian might not have noticed these things, but Viktor saw everything. Body language. Alliances. Fear and greed.
I met him near the fountain.
Prince Cassian, my eldest brother. He was tall and muscular with a rough face and cold eyes. He wore a military robe. Two knights stood at his side, looking formidable.
"Aurelian," he said dismissively. "You're alive. What a pleasant coincidence."
"Brother," I said, bowing slightly out of formality, but not enough to show genuine respect. "I owe my life to my strong body." "Nonsense. This body is like a twig.
Cassian chuckled briefly. "Physical strength? You fell off a tame pony." He leaned closer, his voice low. "Listen, little brother. The competition for the crown prince designation is about to begin. Father will judge our leadership abilities, military strength, and political support. You have none of those things. Withdrawing would be honorable. If not..." His eyes narrowed. "Accidents can happen again. You might not be able to get up."
It was a direct threat. Old-fashioned. In the underworld, threats like that usually resulted in immediate elimination. But here, I had no power.
"I appreciate your concern, Cassian," I said, smiling thinly. It was a smile that used to make my enemies uneasy. "But I think I'll try. Who knows?"
Cassian looked shocked, and then his face turned red with anger. The old Aurelian would have trembled, apologized, or cried.
"Fool," he hissed. "You will die in disgrace." He turned and left, his guards following him.
The threat was real. Cassian had an army. Finnian had spies and allies. I had...what? A title and a pretty face.
That night, I began to plan in my room.
First, survival. I needed loyal personal guards, not palace guards who could be bribed. I also needed to test the loyalty of my servants. I also needed resources. Aurelian had an allowance, but it was small, and he was wasteful.
Second, I needed information. I needed a spy network. In my previous life, I controlled the port. Here, I will control the flow of information.
Third, power. Not necessarily military power. Influence. Something to trade.
I summoned Gideon. "Gideon, prepare a list of all my debts. Also, include anyone in the palace who owes me a favor, any gift I've ever given, or any help, no matter how small."
"Your Majesty, what for?"
"To survive," I replied, staring into the fire in the hearth. "And to win."
Gideon looked into my eyes. His purple eyes now emitted an unfamiliar, cold light. Then, he bowed deeply. Maybe he realized that his master had changed forever.
A few days later, I began to move.
I used most of my remaining allowance to "lend" to palace servants in need: the gardener whose child was sick and the young guard who wanted to get married. The amounts were small but given on the condition of absolute loyalty. I also visited the royal library, not for poetry, but for the financial records, histories of conspiracies, and laws. Knowledge is a weapon.
I also began to train. Secretly and at night with an old sword master whom Cassian had fired for refusing to teach his students cruelly. His name was Kael, and his eyes were full of bitterness. I offered him money and the promise of revenge. He agreed.
My body is weak, but I know how to endure pain. The training was exhausting, but my body grew stronger and my movements sharper with each passing day.
One afternoon, a messenger from Prince Finnian arrived. Finnian invited me to a small party at his hunting lodge. It was an event for young nobles to "mingle." It was a seemingly friendly invitation. The old Aurelian would have been nervous and excited, hoping to be accepted.
I accepted. It was an opportunity to size up my opponent.
Finnian's hunting lodge was luxurious yet tastefully elegant. His guests were second- and third-ranking nobles, scholars, and wealthy merchants—people with influence, but not supreme power. Finnian himself was friendly, with an easy smile and eloquent speech. He welcomed me warmly, as if I were a guest of honor.
"Aurelian! I'm glad you could come. We were just discussing a new poem from the south. You'll be interested."
"Poetry can be entertaining," I said as I took a glass of wine. "But royal affairs are more interesting, aren't they? Take the new tax laws affecting the grain trade, for example."
Finnian was slightly surprised. Several nobles around him were listening.
"Oh? You're interested in taxation?"
"Interest stems from necessity," I said with a smile. "I hear the eastern port has generated disappointing revenues this year. With proper management, it could be a cash cow."
His eyes sparkled with greed and curiosity. "An interesting opinion. Perhaps we can discuss it later, just the two of us."
I nodded. Finnian saw me as a potential tool. He could control me to fight Cassian and then dispose of me. That was fine. Let him underestimate me.
At the party, I also met Lady Seraphina, the daughter of a powerful duke. She was beautiful and intelligent, and her eyes watched me curiously. Not like someone looking at a doll, but like someone looking at a puzzle.
"I hear you fell from a horse, Your Highness," she said. Her voice was like music.
"I was pushed," I replied immediately and without emotion.
She gasped. Such honesty was unusual. "And you know who did it?"
"I have my suspicions. But suspicions without evidence are like a blunt sword: useless."
"Do you plan to find evidence?" she asked, half joking and half serious.
"Evidence is everywhere for those who know how to look," I replied. "Sometimes, all it takes is giving someone enough rope to hang themselves."
Lady Seraphina stared at me for a long time, then smiled—a genuine smile, not a polite one. "You are different from what the rumors say, Prince Aurelian."
"Rumors are like the wind," I replied. "They change direction easily.
We talked longer. She turned out to be very knowledgeable about the palace's inner workings. I didn't offer an alliance or ask for help. I just showed her that I wasn't the fool she thought I was. Maybe someday she would become an ally. Or an enemy. Either way, it was better to have a relationship than none at all.
When I returned to the palace, Gideon was waiting for me with a pale face.
"Your Highness, someone tried to poison your food." The taster is vomiting. He survived, but..."
My heart pounded, but Viktor remained calm. The first attack. Maybe it was Cassian, or maybe it was someone else who wanted to take advantage of the commotion.
"Take the taster to the secret basement. Take care of him. Give his family a large reward. Let it be known that I am furious and terrified and have locked myself in my room for several days."
"But why?"
"Because an enemy who thinks you are weak and afraid is a careless enemy. A careless enemy is a predictable enemy."
I looked in the mirror again. Aurelian's face and Viktor's eyes stared back at me. The useless prince was gone. What remained was a warrior who would use every tool at his disposal: Poetry or poison, smiles or swords. Whatever it takes to achieve his goals.
This kingdom is my new territory. The nobles are rival bosses. The dying king is a weakened don. And the position of crown prince? It is the throne I have always desired: absolute power.
The battle has begun. Viktor Dragov has never lost a territorial war.