The grin didn't last long.
Reality had a way of crashing down the moment Ethan started feeling clever.
A sharp ache bloomed behind his temples, followed by a familiar pressure, like a warning bell ringing quietly in his skull.
"Right," Ethan muttered. "Still a useless prince, still surrounded by enemies, still can't lie."
He lay back, staring at the ornate ceiling. Gold inlays traced floral patterns across green stone, expensive enough to feed a village for a year. The original Ethan Cross had lived drowning in luxury while starving for approval.
And now Ethan had inherited all of it.
Including the consequences.
Footsteps echoed faintly beyond the door.
More than one set.
Ethan sat up immediately.
'That was fast.'
The knock came again, heavier this time, followed by the unmistakable sound of authority clearing its throat.
"His Highness, Prince Ethan Cross," a male voice announced, firm and formal. "The steward requests your presence."
Requests, right.
Which, in palace language, or more specifically, involving me, meant now.
I barely had any authority to refuse.
Ethan stood, smoothing out the silk nightwear that felt absurdly out of place on him. He caught his reflection again in the mirror, the same delicate features, pale complexion, and blond hair that curled around his ears.
Pretty, frail, and weak.
A prince who looked like he'd snap in half if someone sneezed too hard.
But even Ethan couldn't deny that he looked incredible, better than most actors or models in his past life.
He exhaled slowly.
"Come in," he said.
The door opened to reveal an older man dressed in pristine formal attire, his posture rigid, eyes sharp and assessing. Behind him stood two guards in polished armor, hands resting casually near their weapons.
The steward.
In the novel, this man had been… efficient. Loyal to the throne, indifferent to Ethan's existence.
"Your Highness," the steward said with a shallow bow. Respectful in form only. "You are awake sooner than expected."
"You are correct," Ethan replied.
The steward's eyebrow twitched.
"I am here to escort you," the man continued. "His Majesty, your father, has been informed of your condition."
Ethan felt that dull, borrowed ache again.
The Emperor knew.
That alone was enough to make the original Ethan break into a cold sweat. He didn't know his new father personally, but his body knew to fear him.
A fear that a body that had received no love from his father could only react.
"I see," Ethan said.
The steward studied him closely, eyes lingering just a second too long.
"You appear… composed."
Ethan met his gaze calmly.
"I don't see the benefit of appearing otherwise."
The words slipped out naturally.
Too naturally for the steward's liking.
Ethan had many personas in the past; it was a miracle one was fitting enough to be used for a noble society.
'Did the prince always talk so eloquently?'
"…Very well," he said after a moment. "Please follow me."
The guards stepped aside.
Ethan walked.
Every step down the palace corridors felt like walking deeper into a lion's den. The halls were vast, lined with towering pillars and stained-glass windows depicting heroic ancestors, mages wreathed in flame, knights bathed in holy light, emperors crowned in divine radiance.
Every single one of them screamed the same message that he did not belong here.
Ethan noticed the glances.
'Seriously... am I really that strange?'
Servants lowered their heads, some whispering behind their hands. Guards watched him with thinly veiled curiosity.
The Frail Prince, walking on his own.
Not being carried, supported, or bedridden.
By the time they reached the inner chamber, Ethan's nerves were buzzing, but his body was steady, as steady as he could force it to be.
Fear was useful, but panic was not. Years of navigating lies and dangerous situations were enough to train him to stay composed.
That didn't mean he wasn't internally going insane, though.
'Fuck, fuck, fuck...!'
The massive doors opened.
Heat washed over him.
The Emperor's audience chamber was exactly as he remembered from the novel: an elevated throne of obsidian and gold, draped in golden banners that bore the imperial sigil.
And seated upon it, the Emperor.
A man in his prime, broad-shouldered, sharp-eyed, his presence alone pressing down like gravity itself. Even seated, he radiated power.
Magic.
Authority.
Bloodline.
Everything Ethan did not possess.
"Child," the Emperor said in a calm and controlled voice. "Step forward."
Ethan obeyed.
Each footstep echoed loudly in the chamber.
He stopped at the base of the throne and bowed, deep, precise, flawless.
Not too submissive.
Not too proud.
At least he had inherited the muscle memory of the body, capable of executing royal courtesy just like he had been trained for it all his life.
"I greet His Majesty," Ethan said.
The Emperor's gaze sharpened.
"You collapsed during your evaluation," the Emperor continued. "The third time..."
A statement, not a question.
"Yes," Ethan replied.
Silence followed.
The Emperor leaned forward slightly. "You do not deny it."
"There is nothing to deny," Ethan said honestly. "I failed."
Courtiers lining the chamber stiffened.
The Emperor studied him as though surprised at his son's own calmness; he had never bothered to bond with him once as a child.
To the Emperor, this was just another weird quirk he wasn't aware of due to his purposeful avoidance.
"You speak plainly," the Emperor said. "Where is your anger? Your excuses?"
Ethan's heart thumped once.
This was it.
A lie would be impossible.
So he didn't try.
"I have none," Ethan said. "Anger will not change my lack of talent, excuses will not grant me power."
A murmur rippled through the court.
'Just a bit more, and I can get out of this unscathed...'
The Emperor's fingers tapped once against the armrest.
"And yet you stand before me without shame. Tell me, do you think you will get out without punishment?"
Ethan lifted his head.
"No... father," he said.
"You were always loud, defiant, and arrogant. Today, you are quiet."
Ethan met his gaze.
"I am still defiant," he said. "I am simply honest now."
The words rang.
It was the only thing he could say, the only choice he possibly could have to reply to the Emperor.
[Skill Notification]
[Persuasion (Level 1) has gained experience.]
'G-Good...'
The Emperor snickered; it was a short, sharp sound that startled the entire chamber.
"Honest?" the Emperor repeated. "Is that your way of trying to make up for being such a disappointment?"
Ethan said nothing; this time, he had no honest answer to give.
'Can't exactly say I'm only being honest because I'm being forced to...'
"Very well," the Emperor continued, leaning back. "You have failed your evaluation. As such, you will not receive land, title, or command."
As expected, this was the time he was going to lose everything.
"But," the Emperor added, "you will not be disowned."
Or not...
Whispers erupted instantly; most had expected him to be banished after his third failure at awakening.
This was an unprecedented benevolence that nobody in the court had ever expected.
This… was not supposed to happen.
The Emperor raised a hand, silencing the court.
"You will be sent to the Royal Academy," the Emperor said. "Not as a noble representative, but as a common student."
A demotion without outright calling it a demotion, it was obvious what he was planning.
Sending Ethan to the Royal Academy despite knowing his sickly nature was just another way of telling him to never show his face again in the palace.
It was better than being outright disowned like Ethan's original fate, but that didn't mean it wasn't still brutal.
"If you aren't suited to be a general, mage, even a ruler like your siblings," the Emperor sighed, hearing his failures out loud ticked him off more than he thought it would.
"Then maybe being a scholar would suit you instead."
The Emperor's gaze bored into him.
"Will you argue, or will you accept your new assignment with dignity?"
Ethan's answer came instantly.
"I do."
It wasn't even because of his honesty; Ethan genuinely just didn't prefer to be surrounded by people who hate him.
Assassination was still not out of the picture after all.
'I'll consider this as a win for now...'
"You are dismissed," he said. "Talk to Neumann for help with your belongings."
Ethan bowed deeply.
As he turned to leave, his lips curled upward just slightly.
[Skill Notification]
[Persuasion (Level 1) has leveled up.]
DING!
[Persuasion (Level 3) has gained major experience]
'So,' Ethan thought, heart pounding with exhilaration. 'The higher the status of my opponent, the more experience I get...'
Meeting the emperor wasn't such a bad idea after all.
[New Ability Granted!]
[Speech Check: Enables use of persuasion skill on chosen target]