Knock. Knock.
The sound echoed sharply against the heavy wood of the door, pulling Aether away from his reflection in the mirror. From the hallway, a servant's voice—thin and devoid of warmth—filtered through the cracks.
"Second Prince," she called out.
Instinctively, he smoothed his tunic and replied, "Come inside."
The door swung open, and a maid stepped into the room. She didn't offer a bow or even a momentary dip of the head; her lack of respect was a quiet insult he had grown used to. "Second Prince," she said, her tone flat, "breakfast is ready. His Majesty, the King, has ordered you to be present in the dining hall."
Without waiting for his acknowledgment, she turned and left, the click of her heels sounding like a countdown.
Aether watched the empty doorway for a moment, saying nothing. Silence was often his only ally. After a long breath, he stepped out of his room and began the long walk toward the Great Dining Hall.
Every step through the familiar corridors felt like a trek through his own history. He recalled memories from his first life, clashing against the harsh reality of his current one. Today was his sixteenth birthday—a day that should have been a celebration. Instead, it was a grim anniversary.
He remembered this day years ago: the day he failed to awaken his mana.
The memory was still vivid—his father's face hardening into an expression of pure disappointment, and the sneers of the noble residents who had once fawned over him. After that day, the light had gone out. He had lost the will to strive for anything, sinking into a haze of laziness and alcohol to numb the sting of being "manaless."
As those memories swirled, he found himself standing before the towering gates of the dining hall. He paused, closing his eyes to settle the storm in his mind. He couldn't let them see him shake.
He forced his expression into one of icy calm, pushed the heavy gates open, and stepped inside.