Alex jerked awake with a strangled gasp, his body convulsing as phantom pain lanced through his chest. The surgical lights were gone, replaced by pre-dawn darkness filtering through familiar windows. His hands flew to his chest, fingers desperately searching for wounds that no longer existed.
*Just a dream. Just a memory.*
But the terror clung to him like surgical gauze, sticky and suffocating. He could still taste copper on his tongue, still feel the violation of foreign hands moving inside his ribcage. The phantom sensation of his heart being lifted from his chest made him retch.
"I'm not just spare parts," he whispered into the darkness, his voice hoarse from screaming. "I'm someone. I matter."
The words echoed in his room ...the same words he'd spoken as they harvested his organs.
Alex's pale eyes burned with unshed tears as fragments of his previous life crashed over him in waves. The betrayal cut deeper than any scalpel. She'd been his first love, his trust, his future. And she'd drugged his coffee like he was livestock being prepared for slaughter.
*"Nothing personal. Just business."*
The memory of that clinical voice as she'd delivered his death sentence made his stomach churn. All of it had been a lie. A calculated performance to harvest his organs.
Thunder rumbled outside, matching his internal storm. Alex rose from his bed on unsteady legs, his body remembering trauma that had happened to someone else entirely. The transmigration had brought more than just consciousness—it had brought every scar, every violation, every moment of terror from his death.
He moved to the window, bare feet silent on cold stone. The Ashford manor grounds stretched below him, peaceful in the early morning mist. Servants were already moving about their duties, preparing for the day when the youngest Ashford son would depart for the Royal Academy.
*Academy enrollment day. Today.*
The irony wasn't lost on him. In his previous life, he'd been a university student—trusting, naive, believing in the goodness of people. Now he was preparing to enter another institution of learning, but this time with the knowledge that anyone could be planning his destruction.
Alex studied his reflection in the window glass. The white hair had fully settled now, no longer the jarring shock it had been after his awakening ceremony. His pale eyes held depths that hadn't been there before... the kind of depth that came from dying badly and living again.
*I'm not the same person who trusted blindly. I won't make those mistakes again.*
A soft knock at his door made him tense. "Come in."
"Master Kael?" Elena's voice was concerned. "I heard... are you well? You cried out."
Alex turned to face his personal maid, noting how her eyes took in his disheveled appearance, the sweat-damp nightclothes, the way his hands still trembled slightly.
"Nightmares," he said simply. "About the awakening ceremony."
It wasn't entirely a lie. The ceremony had been the catalyst for remembering his death, even if the dreams were about something else entirely.
Elena's expression softened with sympathy. "The stress of Academy preparation, perhaps? Many young nobles experience troubled sleep before enrollment."
"Perhaps." Alex moved to his wardrobe, needing the normalcy of routine. "What time is it?"
"Just past dawn, Master. Your father requested breakfast in the family dining room before departure. Lord Marcus has returned from the capital for your send-off."
*Marcus is here.* That was unexpected. The King's Guard didn't often get leave for family events.
"I'll dress and join them shortly."
Elena hesitated at the door. "Master Kael? If I may... you seem different since the ceremony. More... guarded. It's natural to be cautious about Academy politics, but don't let suspicion poison your experience entirely."
Alex paused in selecting his clothes. Even Elena had noticed the change in him—the walls he'd built, the calculation behind his actions.
"I'll remember that," he said, though they both knew he wouldn't.
After she left, Alex needed to clear his mind before facing the day ahead. The familiar blue glow materialized in his peripheral vision as the system presented his daily quest.
[STATUS WINDOW]
[Daily Quest Available]
[Physical Conditioning: 0/100 push-ups, 0/50 sit-ups, 0/1km run]
[Purpose: Strengthening body to handle awakened abilities]
[Reward: 50 XP]
[Time Limit: 24 hours]
Alex accepted without hesitation. Physical exertion had become his anchor, a way to ground himself when memories threatened to overwhelm him.
Moving to the center of his room, he dropped into push-up position. The cold stone floor against his palms was real, solid, pulling his focus away from phantom surgical tables. Each repetition was methodical, precise. One hundred push-ups, fifty sit-ups, executed with mechanical efficiency.
Then he slipped out of the manor for his run, taking the empty pre-dawn paths through the estate grounds. The kilometer passed in steady rhythm, his breathing controlled, his mind gradually clearing of the nightmare's grip.
When he returned to his room, the completion notification appeared:
[Daily Quest Complete]
[Reward: 50 XP Gained]
[Total XP: 500/500]
[LEVEL UP!]
[Current Level: 2]
[Manual Activation Now Available]
[Warning: This action cannot be undone]
[Activate abilities? Y/N]
Alex stared at the prompt. The power was there, waiting. But the Academy enrollment was today... unknown abilities, unknown detection methods, unknown consequences. Better to arrive weak and surprise them later than to arrive strong and lose the advantage of being underestimated.
He dismissed the notification without selecting either option
*Let them think I'm broken.*
Alex then dressed with deliberate care. The Academy uniform felt foreign—deep blue wool with silver threading, the crest of the Royal Academy embroidered over the heart. It was well-made, expensive, designed to inspire respect and confidence.
He shook off uncomfortable parallels to his previous life. Clothes were just clothes. It was the people wearing them that mattered.
Alex made his way downstairs, finding his father and Marcus already at the breakfast table. The sight of his older brother in King's Guard uniform—black leather and silver mail … brought a complicated mix of emotions.
"Kael," Marcus rose with a smile that seemed genuine. "You look..." He paused, studying his youngest brother's face. "Older. More serious."
"Yes," Alex replied simply, taking his seat.
Lord Ashford set down his morning correspondence, studying his youngest son with careful eyes. "Some of the servants have mentioned seeing you running through the grounds at odd hours. Early morning exercises, they say. This is new behavior for you."
Alex met his father's gaze steadily. "I haven't felt like myself since the awakening ceremony."
The simple statement hung in the air, carrying weight that neither man fully understood. Lord Ashford's expression softened slightly.
"Understandable. Such experiences can be... transformative." He gestured to Marcus. "Your brother arranged leave to see you off. A generous gesture, given his duties."
"The King's Guard values family commitments," Marcus said, though his green eyes remained fixed on Alex. "Besides, I wanted to give you some final advice about Academy life."
Alex accepted a plate of eggs and toast from the serving staff, his appetite minimal but eating necessary. He ate in silence, listening to the conversation around him.
"Trust slowly," Marcus said, directing his words at Alex. "The Academy brings together children from every major house in the kingdom. Some will be genuine friends, others will be calculating political connections. Learning to tell the difference is crucial."
*Too late for that lesson in my previous life.*
Alex nodded once, acknowledging the advice without comment.
"Watch their actions, not their words," Marcus continued. "Anyone can say they care about you. Look for consistency between what they claim and what they do. Real friends support you when it's inconvenient for them."
Lord Ashford nodded approvingly. "Sound advice. The Academy social dynamics can be... complex."
"What about romantic relationships?" Alex asked, his tone flat, matter-of-fact.
Both men exchanged glances. Marcus's expression became more serious.
"Be extremely careful," he said bluntly. "Noble marriages are political alliances. Romance at the Academy is rarely just romance... it's positioning for future advantage. Don't confuse attraction with genuine affection."
"And don't confuse manipulation with love," Lord Ashford added quietly. "Some will see your... unique circumstances as an opportunity. They'll try to get close to you for information, influence, or eventual advantage."
*They're warning me about exactly what happened before.*
"You sound like you speak from experience," Alex observed.
Marcus's jaw tightened slightly. "I learned these lessons the hard way. There was a girl during my second year... brilliant, beautiful, seemed genuinely interested in me despite my anomalous abilities. Turned out she was gathering information for her family about Ashford lightning capabilities."
"What happened?"
"I discovered letters she'd written to her father, detailing everything I'd confided about my training, my struggles, my techniques. She'd been documenting my weaknesses for potential exploitation."
The parallel to his own experience was nauseating. "How did you handle it?"
"Confronted her. She didn't deny it... just explained that it was practical politics. Her family needed advantages, and my trust was a resource to be utilized."
*"Nothing personal. Just business."*
"Did you... did you still have feelings for her? Even after discovering the truth?"
Marcus was quiet for a long moment. "Yes. That was the worst part. The betrayal didn't immediately kill what I felt. I had to consciously choose to protect myself from someone I still cared about."
Alex understood that particular hell intimately. Even now, certain memories could make his chest tight with longing... before the memory of clinical voices and surgical tables crashed over him.
"Your advice?"
"Don't isolate yourself completely," Marcus said carefully. "But be observant. People reveal their true intentions through small actions, casual comments, the way they treat servants or lower-ranked students. Character shows itself in details."
"And if you do develop feelings for someone?"
"Test them," Lord Ashford interjected. "Not with anything cruel, but see how they respond to inconvenience, to disappointment, to situations where supporting you offers them no advantage."
"Above all," Marcus added, "remember that you don't owe anyone your trust. It's earned, not given freely."
Alex absorbed this advice with the same impassive expression. The information aligned with his own painful education, but he offered no commentary.
"What about my situation?" he asked simply.
"Nothing," both men said simultaneously.
"The Academy instructors will conduct their own evaluations," Lord Ashford explained. "Let them discover what they discover. Don't volunteer information about your capabilities... or lack thereof... to other students."
"They'll be curious," Marcus added. "The unclassified Ashford son is already a topic of speculation. Let them speculate. Give them nothing concrete to work with."
A servant entered with a message. Lord Ashford read it and nodded.
"The carriage is ready. We should depart within the hour to reach the Academy before noon."
Alex felt a familiar tightness in his chest... not quite panic, but the hypervigilance of someone who'd learned that safety was always temporary. He stood without comment.
Marcus rose as well, moving to clasp Alex's shoulder. "Remember who you are. Not just your abilities or lack thereof, but your values, your intelligence, your character. The Academy will test all of it. Don't lose yourself trying to become what others expect."
"And remember," Lord Ashford added, "you're not alone. House Ashford has resources, influence, and most importantly, family who will support you regardless of what the Academy discovers."
Alex nodded once, the gesture economical and final.
*They're offering protection to someone who doesn't really exist.*
As they prepared to leave, Alex caught his reflection in the dining room's mirror. The white hair and pale eyes still startled him, but what struck him more was the expression... guarded, calculating, older than his years.
*I look like someone who's died once and doesn't intend to do it again.*
The nightmare had been more than just memory... it had been a reminder. In his previous life, he'd been trusting, naive, believing in the fundamental goodness of people. It had gotten him killed.
This time would be different. He'd learned the hardest lesson anyone could learn: that people were capable of unthinkable betrayal, that love could be a weapon, that trust was a luxury he couldn't afford.
As the carriage rolled toward the Royal Academy, Alex stared out at the passing landscape and made a silent promise to the memory of his previous self:
*I won't let anyone get close enough to hurt me again. Not like that. Never like that.*
The Academy might be full of potential friends, allies, and even love interests. But Alex would approach all of them with the knowledge that any of them could be planning his destruction behind a caring smile.
It was a lonely way to live, but it was safer than the alternative.