Morning light spilled gently over the Imperial Capital, washing the towering walls and golden rooftops in soft hues of warmth. The city stirred awake beneath the rising sun, orderly and proud, just as it always had been.
Lucien slept deeply.
The previous night had drained him in a way that had nothing to do with physical exhaustion.
Too many emotions, too many unfamiliar bonds, and too many realizations had pressed down on his mind at once.
Long after the banquet ended, Jasmine had stayed by his side, sitting quietly near his bed, watching his face as if afraid he might vanish again the moment she blinked.
Only when she was certain his breathing was steady did she finally leave the room.
When Lucien woke up, the room was quiet.
For a moment, he simply lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the faint sounds of the palace beyond the walls. Then a thought crossed his mind, and the corners of his lips twitched faintly.
'She probably went back to him,' he thought, oddly amused.
After everything he had seen yesterday, it wasn't difficult to piece together their identities. The throne, the authority, the way everyone bowed. Emperor. Empress. Father and mother. Even if he couldn't yet understand the language perfectly, the truth was obvious.
Before he could think further, the door opened softly.
A middle-aged woman stepped inside, dressed in neat imperial maid attire. Her posture was straight, her movements graceful and practiced. She bowed respectfully before approaching him.
"Excuse me, Your Highness…"
Her tone was gentle, careful. Without waiting for a response, she took his small hand and guided him toward the bathing area. She undressed him efficiently, without hesitation, and began cleaning him with practiced ease.
Lucien stiffened.
He stared resolutely at the opposite wall, refusing to look down. The maid's clothes clung slightly to her figure from the steam, outlining curves that made him acutely aware of how inappropriate his thoughts were.
'Focus. Focus,' he scolded himself.
He forced his gaze upward, studying her face instead. She was not young, but she carried a mature beauty that felt dignified rather than alluring.
'Someone like this… is a maid?' he wondered.
When the bath was finished and he was dressed again, Lucien felt different. Lighter. Clearer. The lingering fog in his mind had completely disappeared, and his senses felt sharper than before.
'That bath… smelled strange,' he thought. 'Rejuvenating?'
Before he could dwell on it, the maid took his hand and led him toward the Study.
Inside, Jasmine was already waiting.
She stood the moment the door opened, eyes fixed on the small figure entering the room. Because of earlier responsibilities, she hadn't been able to bathe him herself, and the regret still lingered in her heart.
The maid released Lucien's hand and quietly withdrew.
Jasmine smiled, her expression softening completely as she opened her arms.
"My little Luce..." she said warmly, "come to Mother."
Lucien froze.
'Isn't she supposed to be the Empress?' his thoughts screamed. 'Why is she acting so… casual?'
He quickly masked his confusion, maintaining the blank curiosity of a three-year-old child. He didn't respond immediately, simply watching her with wide eyes.
Jasmine repeated the gesture, her smile unwavering.
Slowly, carefully, Lucien stepped forward.
He wasn't acting. His body truly struggled to move smoothly, muscles weak from years of disuse. Each step felt uncertain, unbalanced. He assumed it was his soul adjusting to this fragile body.
The moment he reached her, Jasmine wrapped him in a tight embrace.
Warmth surrounded him again.
Her arms trembled slightly, holding him as if afraid he might slip away. Lucien felt something inside his chest stir violently.
The door closed behind them.
Silence settled.
They remained like that for a long time.
Lucien felt an unfamiliar pressure build behind his eyes. A strange urge to cry rose from deep within him, uncontrollable and overwhelming.
'This body… it's influencing me,' he realized. 'My emotions…'
A darker thought crept in.
'Did I fuse with the child's soul?'
The idea made him shiver.
Jasmine finally loosened her hold and smiled down at him.
"From now on," she said softly, "Mother will take care of you. I'll guide you in everything. Let's start from the basics, okay?"
Her smile was gentle, radiant, almost unreal.
Lucien blinked.
For a moment, he thought it was the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.
She held his hand, seated him on a chair, and without hesitation began teaching him the language of this world.
*
A week passed.
Lucien could now run, stumble, and play like a normal child. His once frail body filled out quickly, nourished by high-quality food and strange yet delicious dishes. Each meal left him feeling invigorated, his strength growing steadily.
Even the meat tasted richer here than anything he had eaten on Earth.
His progress with the language was even more astonishing. Within days, he could understand simple sentences, recognize words, and respond appropriately.
The Study became his world.
A bed was placed there at his request. Knowledge, he knew, was the only weapon he could wield right now. With a body like this, physical strength was a distant dream.
And he learned fast.
Too fast.
His memory was sharper than it had ever been. Lessons stuck immediately, concepts clear and vivid.
'My soul… it's stronger,' he realized.
He didn't know the truth, that the Transmigration Stone had fundamentally strengthened his soul, but his instincts were right.
Jasmine noticed it too.
'He's a genius,' she thought proudly. 'Without a doubt.'
She played with him after lessons, laughed with him, showered him with affection. Lucien found himself enjoying it more than he wanted to admit. With her, he felt safe. Small. Like a real child.
Yet he searched his soul constantly, afraid something was wrong.
Other than the black book, there was nothing.
*
Another week passed.
The guilt began to surface.
A whisper in his mind accused him relentlessly.
'You killed her son.'
'Why are you laughing with her?'
'You don't deserve this.'
The joy he once felt became tainted. Smiles felt heavy. Laughter felt wrong.
"Stop it!" he shouted suddenly.
"Lucien?" Jasmine asked, startled.
He forced himself to calm down.
"I'm fine," he said quietly, avoiding her gaze.
She frowned, unease settling in her heart.
*
The third week.
Lucien began distancing himself.
He studied, completed assignments, and withdrew. No games. No laughter.
Jasmine watched helplessly, confused and worried.
'Did I say something wrong?' she wondered. 'Was it that joke…?'
She waited, hoping it would pass.
*
The fourth week.
The tension became unbearable.
In the Study, Jasmine called softly, "Lucien…"
He looked at her briefly, then turned away.
"Look at Mother," she pleaded.
Slowly, he did.
Her eyes were wet.
"Did I hurt you?" she asked. "Why won't you talk to me anymore?"
The pain in her voice crushed him.
Jasmine's voice trembled as she spoke of her fear, her loneliness, the agony of losing him once.
Lucien couldn't take it anymore.
She pulled him into her arms.
"Please," she cried. "I want my Lucien back!"
Something shattered inside him.
He hugged her back tightly, his small arms trembling.
"I'm here," he cried hoarsely. "Your Lucien is here!"
At that moment, he accepted it.
He was no longer just Lucien.
He was Lucien Crescent.
Light suddenly erupted from his forehead, swirling brilliantly.
Jasmine froze in shock.
"Nascent… Soul?" she whispered, staring in disbelief.
And Lucien Crescent stared back, just as stunned.