Lunch was over.
Aslan wandered the palace halls alone, hands in his pockets, his footsteps echoing faintly off the marble floors. He wasn't really going anywhere—just walking to clear his head. If he stayed around Lucian any longer, he might actually start appreciating his brother's concern… and that was dangerous.
If Lucian worried about me any more, he thought dryly, I might have to stab a fork into his gut—just to snap him out of it.
He walked past the towering portraits of former kings, their painted gazes heavy with pride and judgment.
All of them look like they died trying to out-bore each other.
Aslan glanced up at their cold, royal faces.
After I was reincarnated… I tried to die. Multiple times, actually.
I know. Morbid. But I didn't exactly ask to be reborn—especially not into a royal family in a magical empire. Still, I made a promise to myself fifteen years ago:
"If I have to live… I'll do it on my own terms."
Until then, I was perfectly fine testing how fragile this new body really was.
Attempt #1: The Baby Drop
Age: Less than one.
Objective: Gravity.
I tried to roll out of my mother's arms mid-hug, headfirst.
I could practically hear the dramatic gasp of fate.
But right before I hit the floor—snap!—she caught me. Just a faint bruise on my chubby wrist.
"My baby! Did you get hurt?"
She was devastated. I was offended.
She immediately cast a healing spell while cradling me like I was made of glass. That's when I realized—
Wait… this world has magic? Interesting.
Attempt failed. Gained intel.
Attempt #2: The Rooftop Dive
Age: Six.
Plan: Launch myself from the palace rooftop.
Result: Immediate regret.
I climbed up, jumped off like a tragic hero… and landed like a dropped potato sack.
Crunch.
A dozen servants screamed. Nannies wept. I had broken bones and a very dramatic limp.
But I also got tucked into bed for a month, given cake, and treated like a fragile porcelain doll.
Attempt failed. Gained sympathy points.
Attempt #3: The Icebox Trap
Age: Eight.
Plan: Hide inside the palace's cold storage chamber over the weekend.
Friday evening. I checked the servant schedules. No one would enter until Monday.
Perfect.
I crawled into a large basket of ice and whispered to myself:
"At last… peace."
Ten minutes later—
"How could you miscount TEN baskets?!" a voice outside roared.
A servant burst in, started lifting baskets. Mine was heavier. He peeked in, saw me. Froze. Then shouted:
"PRINCE ASLAN IS IN THE ICE. AGAIN."
Attempt failed. Gained hypothermia and a lecture.
They didn't find me because they missed me. Just because a basket was too heavy.
Attempt #4: The Sticky Barrel Gambit
I climbed into a storage barrel after coating the rim with glue so I wouldn't fall out before someone noticed.
Brilliant, right?
The nannies noticed five minutes later. They screamed.
I was stuck. Literally.
They spent an hour peeling me out like a sticker off royal furniture.
Attempt failed. Dignity lost. Permanently.
After that, the palace increased my surveillance.
They said it was "to keep me safe."
But really? It was so I didn't accidentally—or intentionally—end myself again.
So, I took a break from trying to die.
Aslan thought to himself:
"Maybe the reason I haven't died yet… is because this world's magic and physiques are just insanely strong."
But that was only his assumption—he'd only ever seen people who were strong.
He stopped walking and glanced out the palace window.
The sky was clear. The empire looked calm.
But inside, the lion was still pacing.