Lucian collapsed onto the stone ground, his chest heaving. Sweat soaked his clothes, plastering the thin fabric to his soft, heavy body. Every muscle screamed in protest, a dull, throbbing agony that radiated from his limbs. The courtyard spun above him, the sky a brilliant, mocking blue.
He had lost count of the rounds. It felt like hours.
Yelena stood a few paces away, her posture rigid. Her breath remained steady, perfectly even. The pristine white of her maid's collar wasn't even rumpled. She watched him with those flat, gray eyes.
"Is the lesson over, Young Master?" she asked. Her voice was a calm, neutral plane.
Lucian wheezed, trying to form words. He rolled onto his side, pushing himself up onto one elbow. "You..." He coughed, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "You didn't even break a… goddamn sweat."
"The conditioning of a soldier does not vanish because the uniform changes," she replied simply.
Lucian stared up at her, really looking this time. The other maid, the one who had drawn his bath, had been different. She had been flustered, assertive in her way, annoyed by his existence. Yelena was… cold. Too skilled for a simple domestic. She didn't look much older than twenty, but her eyes held a weariness that didn't match her face.
Who was she?
…
I can just ask…
The thought came unbidden. He was a noble here, wasn't he? Lucian Kraus. The 'Young Master'. The fat, useless son of a lord. And she was just a servant.
He pushed himself fully upright, his arms shaking from the effort. He fixed his gaze on her, channeling what little authority he could muster into his voice.
"Yelena," he said, the name feeling foreign on his tongue. "Where did you learn to fight like that? A maid doesn't know footwork and parries. Who were you before you came to serve the Kraus family?"
Yelena lowered the wooden sword, resting the tip on the flagstones. She didn't shift her weight. "I served in the Karsk militia for two years," she said, her voice crisp. "Basic infantry duty. It was before I entered domestic service."
The answer was delivered without emotion, a plain statement of fact. Lucian stared at her, his mind racing.
"Young Master," Yelena continued, cutting through his thoughts, "does this sudden interest in self-defense stem from the recent proposal?"
Lucian froze mid-breath. The question hit him like a physical blow, knocking the air from his already burning lungs. Proposal?
He couldn't ask what proposal. That would be insane. This body belonged to Lucian Kraus; it should know its own life. If he asked, the game was up. Yelena was not stupid; her eyes were sharp and analytical. She would notice the disconnect immediately. She might have already.
Lucian forced a scoff, injecting a note of arrogance into his shaky voice. "Obviously," he said, waving a dismissive hand. "Why else would I bother with this… sweat and exertion?"
He watched her face closely for any sign of doubt.
Yelena nodded slowly. "I see." She tilted her head slightly. "Then the timing is… unfortunate. It is rather late to begin improving your physique if you intend to impress her anytime soon."
She spoke with a detached sort of pity. It wasn't mocking, not exactly. It was worse. It was realistic.
Her?
Who is her? Give me more to work with!
"Her… right," he muttered slowly, "And when will she grace us with her presence?"
Yelena tilted her head, a ghost of confusion showing across her stoic features. "A month. The same as yesterday, when the messenger arrived." She studied his damp face. "Lord Hildebrand stressed you were present for that conversation."
Well, it seems I wasn't… 'cause I fucking hung myself.
Lucian's stomach twisted. Shit. He forced a sharp nod, pressing the practice sword's point into the dirt. "How… important was that conversation? Remind me…"
The maid didn't blink. "From my humble understanding, it was just to finalize the details of the marriage." Her tone stayed calm, but her gaze sharpened. "Unless you've reconsidered the arrangement?"
He let his sneer hang lazy. "No, I didn't, Anything else…?"
"Lord Hildebrand finalized the marriage contract yesterday." She rotated her wrist, testing the weight of her own practice blade. "The draft sits sealed in his study. Lady Uzume signs upon arrival."
Cold dread trickled down Lucian's spine, burying itself in his gut. Marriage? To a woman he didn't know, in a life he hadn't lived? The timeline was way too tight. He had just arrived, and he was trapped inside a body that felt like a teddy bear.
He glanced at Yelena. Her posture remained rigid, waiting for orders with that unnerving discipline. She had militia training. That was lucky; that was a resource he could gain from.
Lucian squeezed the wooden sword until his knuckles turned white. Panic threatened to bubble over, but he crushed it down. There was no time for a slow adjustment. If he was going to survive this noble hellhole, he needed to be stronger, faster. Now.
"We will do this again. Every day. Starting tomorrow, right here," Lucian declared, his voice lacking the authority he hoped for but filled with a desperate resolve.
Yelena's eyes narrowed slightly. "Young Master, Lord Hildebrand has already show his uninterested in your combat prow-"
"I don't care what he said," he cut her off, sharp and final. He didn't wait for a response. Turning his back on her, he tossed the wooden sword onto the grass. It landed with a dull thud.
He walked away, leaving the maid standing in the center of the courtyard. Every step felt heavy, his thighs rubbing together, his back aching. The sun beat down on his golden hair. He focused on the heat, the friction, the misery of moving this flesh. It was fuel. He would turn this blubber into muscle for whatever it takes.
He reached the heavy doors of the mansion and shoved them open. The main entry hall was grand in size but lacked grandeur. Faded tapestries hung on the walls, depicting scenes of hunting and battle that were probably intended to inspire awe but only highlighted the house's decay. Cobwebs clung to the corners of the high ceiling.
He ignored the stairs leading up. The second floor was where the other family members resided. He could feel the weight of their presence up there, invisible but oppressive. He wasn't ready for that shit.
Lucian pushed open a heavy door to the right of the main hall. Moonlight filtered through a creepy window, illuminating rows of floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with leather-bound tomes.
He walked to the nearest desk, blowing dust off a thick book. He flipped the heavy cover open. The page was filled with dense text and diagrams. They were words he could read. By some miracle of reincarnation, his new brain understood this language.
Then, he squinted at a diagram near the top of the page. It showed a human silhouette, lines converging on a specific point on the lower back.
The caption read: The Anatomy Of The Female Body.
Well… no.
Lucian slammed the book shut with a cloud of dust. He didn't need that kind of help.
He turned to the shelves, squinting at the faded gold lettering on the spines. The History of the Third Xanterian Civil War.Strategies for Agricultural Taxation. Useless. Postures of the Night Orchid. Absolutely not.
He trailed his fingers over the leather, searching for any trace of magic. If this world truly possessed it, he needed to understand exactly how it worked.
Then, he stopped. A thin, unassuming volume tucked between two heavy encyclopedias caught his eye.