The clang of steel and the rhythm of the training yard still rang faintly in his ears—his body had yet to fully forget it—but before he could even process the sensations, a voice thundered across the courtyard.
"Commander Inigo! The king is asking for you!"
The scarred, broad-shouldered man—Inigo—stopped mid-stride, his eye narrowing. A smirk flickered across his rugged face. "Looks like it's your lucky day, boy. Training's over."
He exhaled shakily. "…Lucky day," he muttered under his breath. Yeah, right. Lucky my ass. If he knew what happened a few hours ago
The sun was high in the sky, the warmth washing over him, but it did nothing to calm the tension in his shoulders. Every step through the courtyard made him hyper-aware of his new body: the muscles, the unfamiliar weight of his arms, the way the clothes hugged his torso in ways he had never known.
⸻
Before he could gather himself, a young maid appeared beside him, holding a soft cloth. Golden strands framed her round face, her hands gentle but precise.
"… thanks," he said awkwardly, realizing he had no idea what to say.
The girl simply nodded, starting to wipe the sweat from his brow. Her touch was light, professional, and somehow unnerving. Han hesitated, unsure whether to stop her—but decided to let it happen, not wanting to appear rude.
⸻
The Boy's Interruption
The boy, confident as ever, hurried over. His eyes were sharp, serious.
"My lord, the queen is calling for you!" he said firmly. Then, sharply to the maid: "Rosa! Stop wiping the lord immediately!"
He froze, caught between embarrassment and confusion. He stood up straight, muscles stiff, heart hammering in his chest.
Meeting a queen… a mother… he thought. Never in my life did I imagine this. Will she notice me? Will she see the change?
He decided: remain quiet. Observe. Learn. His inner mind started drafting strategies on how to act, how to speak, even how to bow.
If I act too stiffly, she'll notice. Too casually… she'll notice. Gotta find the balance… like a negotiation, but with etiquette. Fuck.
⸻
Entering the Castle
The corridors were wider than anything he had ever seen. Stone walls, tapestries depicting hunting scenes and ancient battles, polished wooden floors. Each step echoed loudly, bouncing off high ceilings and ornate sconces.
Then, a woman appeared. Golden blonde hair, green eyes that sparkled like emeralds. She rushed toward him, arms outstretched, and hugged him from the side.
The boy cleared his throat, firm and commanding. "My lord, the queen has arrived."
His heart jumped. This was the most nervous he had ever been in this world—this medieval Europe with its rigid hierarchy, its expectations, its glaring focus on status.
The queen's voice was melodic but firm:
"My cute boy… I don't know why your father rushed the swordsmanship lessons. I just wanted to tell you I'll be going to a noble's gathering for the time being. I just wanted to see you before I left. bye… Lope."
He froze mid-step. Lope…? That's my name in this life?
The name struck him like a bolt. That's… my name here? My body, my life… it's Lope. This is… the person I'm inhabiting.
I've never heard of a prince named lope.
His mind raced. A whirlwind of thoughts collided
He blinked, tongue-tied. "B-bye…" he managed, the word tasting strange on his lips.
Lope… I'll remember that. For now, I need to focus on… everything else.
Who was I supposed to be? A… a prince, maybe? All of it seems to be his… my… our life now.
⸻
Back to the Bedroom
Once the queen had gone, he returned to his chamber, motioning for the boy to leave. The door clicked shut behind him.
He let out a deep sigh, muscles relaxing slightly as the tension drained. The sun had climbed high—already afternoon.
He leaned against the wall, pondering.
Who was I in this life before me? Was it right to inherit someone else's existence? Am I supposed to live this life as him, or… make it my own?
The thoughts were interrupted by the most gut-wrenching smell he had ever encountered. His eyes watered instantly.
Instinctively, he put his head out the window.
Oh right… I'm in the 1100s. There's probably no soap. No proper toilets. Maybe even no concept of basic sanitation… Fucking brilliant.
His stomach churned.
"Bath… ready, sir!" the boy's voice called down the corridor.
He twisted around and followed the sound, the stench growing worse with every step.
"What is that smell?" he demanded, nose wrinkled.
The boy's expression was serious. "There is a problem with the chamber pots, my lord."
⸻
The Bath
The bath was a wooden tub filled with steaming water, roughly hewn but serviceable. He stripped, stepping in carefully, trying not to think about what had just happened in the corridor.
He leaned back, letting the warm water soothe his sore muscles. The heat seeped deep into his bones, loosening his stiff arms and shoulders.
Should I… fix the chamber pots problem myself? Or just… survive this one the medieval way? ….Fuck it.
He raised his arm and, almost automatically, opened the system panel floating before his eyes.
Skill: Basic Swordsmanship
A faint smile curved his lips. He flexed his fingers experimentally in the water. Not bad… maybe I should start lifting weights. I can… create them. That could help for future training.
The panel flickered faintly as he touched it, reminding him that while he had knowledge from his previous life, he had no tangible advantage yet.
I'll need to learn fast. Fight, survive, grow stronger… all while acting like I belong here.
⸻
Reflections
Even as he soaked, his mind was active.
• What kind of king do I want to be in the future?
He imagined standing in a hall filled with lords, their eyes upon him. He imagined his people looking to him for protection, leadership, guidance.
The water was warm, but the smell reminded him harshly of reality.
He tried to push it aside, focusing instead on small victories: skill progress, how to handle the boy, how to move gracefully, how to think like a prince.
I have to learn this life as Lope. There's no going back. Only forward.
⸻
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the castle, in the king's private office, Commander Inigo stood rigidly before the throne. Candlelight flickered across the king's stern face as he weighed the urgency of the report.
"… is the situation getting worse, sir?" the commander asked.