Adrian's POV
"I'm your son," I lied straight to the King's face. "I just finally sobered up enough to see what a mess I've made."
King Aldric stared at me for ten long seconds. His hand still gripped my chin, fingers pressing hard enough to bruise.
Then he let go.
"You're lying," he said flatly. "But I don't care. If this new version of Adrian can save our dying kingdom, then whoever you really are can stay."
He walked toward the door, then paused. "You have one chance to prove yourself. Don't waste it."
The door closed behind him.
I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding.
That was too close.
But he'd given me something valuable: permission. He didn't care who I really was as long as I got results.
Fine. Results I could do.
Three hours later, I stood at the edge of my "territory"—the province Father had given Adrian to manage five years ago.
It looked like a war zone.
Broken roads full of holes. Houses with roofs caving in. Skinny peasants in rags watching me with dead eyes. Kids with dirty faces and hollow cheeks.
My chest tightened with anger.
This wasn't just neglect. This was robbery. Someone had been bleeding this province dry while Adrian drank himself stupid.
"Your Highness." An old man approached, bowing so low his back cracked. He had white hair, wrinkled skin, and tears running down his face. "You came. You actually came."
Adrian's memories supplied the name: Thomas. His only loyal servant. The one person who never stole from him.
"Thomas," I said. "Stand up. Stop bowing."
He straightened slowly, wiping his eyes. "Forgive me, my lord. It's just... you look different. Your eyes are clear. You're standing straight. I thought... I prayed..."
"That I'd finally get my act together?" I finished.
He nodded, more tears falling.
Something twisted in my gut. In my old life, people feared Victor the Viper. They respected him. Obeyed him. But nobody ever cried because they were happy to see him.
"Show me everything," I ordered. "The roads. The mines. The tax records. All of it."
Thomas's eyes widened. "The tax records, my lord?"
"Yes. I want to know where every coin went for the past five years."
"But... but Lord Rennick keeps those locked in his estate. He's the tax collector. He'll never—"
"He'll show me," I said coldly, "or I'll drag him out of his fancy house by his hair. Your choice which sounds better."
Thomas actually smiled. A real, genuine smile.
"Oh, my lord. You really have changed."
The tour made me angrier with every step.
Roads Adrian had approved funds to fix? Still broken. The money vanished.
Mines Adrian had paid to reopen? Sealed shut. The money vanished.
Food shipments Adrian had ordered for starving peasants? Never arrived. The money vanished.
Every coin that should have helped these people had been stolen by corrupt officials who knew Adrian was too drunk to notice.
"This is worse than my first neighborhood," I muttered.
Thomas, walking beside me, looked confused. "My lord?"
"Nothing." I stopped in front of a boarded-up building. "What was this?"
"The community hall, Your Highness. We used to hold markets here. But Lord Rennick shut it down, said we needed to pay a 'building tax' to use it."
"A building tax," I repeated slowly. "On a building I own. In a province I control."
"Yes, my lord."
I'd seen this exact scam in my old life. Small-time criminals charging protection money for things people already owned. It was amateur hour.
And it ended today.
"Thomas, I need two things from you." I turned to face him. "First, get me every financial record you can find. Steal them if you have to. Second, find me the biggest criminal operating in this province."
Thomas went pale. "Criminal, my lord? But—"
"Not to arrest," I interrupted. "To hire."
His mouth fell open.
"You want to... hire criminals?"
"The best way to beat criminals," I explained, "is to have better criminals working for you. Trust me. Now go."
Thomas hesitated, then nodded and hurried off.
I stood alone in the broken town square, planning. Calculating. This province was a disaster, but I'd started with less in my old life. One street corner and a knife. That's all fifteen-year-old Victor had.
Now I had a whole province, a prince's authority, and decades of experience.
These corrupt officials had no idea what was coming for them.
That night, Thomas burst into my chambers carrying a stack of papers.
"I got them, my lord!" He was out of breath, excited. "The financial records. All of them. And I found something... something terrible."
I grabbed the papers, scanning through them quickly.
My blood turned to ice.
The theft was worse than I thought. Way worse.
But that wasn't the terrible part.
The terrible part was the signature at the bottom of every fake receipt, every fraudulent contract, every stolen payment.
Not Lord Rennick's signature.
Daemon's signature.
My golden brother had been personally stealing from my province for five years. Hundreds of thousands of gold coins. Maybe millions.
"That bastard," I whispered.
"My lord, there's more." Thomas's voice shook. "I found the criminal you asked for. But... but he's dangerous. Very dangerous. They call him the Viper's—"
The door exploded inward.
Three masked men rushed in, weapons drawn.
I barely had time to react before a blade pressed against Thomas's throat.
"Prince Adrian," the lead masked man said with a mocking bow. His voice was rough, scarred. "We've been waiting for you to finally show up. Your brother sends his regards."
Daemon had sent assassins.
Already.
The masked man smiled behind his cloth. "We were told to make it look like an accident. But honestly? After what you said at breakfast today, I think we'll just make it hurt."
He raised his knife.
And that's when I realized the biggest problem with being Victor Castellano's mind in Adrian's body:
Victor knew how to fight.
But Adrian's body had never thrown a punch in its life.
This weak, soft, untrained body was about to get me killed for the second time.