"Shit!"
I jolted upright, heart hammering in my chest. Pain flared behind my eyes, and heat pulsed across my body like I'd been flash-roasted. But I wasn't on fire. I was… on a bed? The cushion beneath me was too soft. The air was too clean. No chemical stench. No metallic tang of blood.
This wasn't the FOB. It wasn't any room I'd ever seen before.
High ceilings. Ornate walls. A chandelier overhead. This wasn't a hospital. It looked more like something out of a period film, some aristocrat's mansion from the early 1900s.
My breath caught as the heavy double doors creaked open. Two boys burst into the room, both red-haired, dressed in what looked like World War I-era officer uniforms, gold buttons, epaulets, the whole shebang. Twin faces, mirrored expressions of panic. Maids rushed in behind them, catching both boys mid-stride and lifting them off the ground like they weighed nothing.
Jesus.
My eyes darted from them to the door, scanning for threats, reflex. I caught sight of two more figures standing just outside: a tall brunette man in formal wear, and a red-haired woman, elegant and composed. Their clothes matched the room; outdated, regal, maybe even royal.
They looked relieved. I was still in combat mode, heart racing. I didn't trust any of it.
"Uh… uhm," I croaked, trying to speak. My throat was raw. The red-haired woman stepped forward, holding a golden goblet. "Drink this," she said gently. I took it, hand trembling. It tasted like something scraped off the underside of a boot; bitter, pungent, foreign. I gagged but swallowed. She placed a cool hand on my forehead, smoothing my hair.
What… what is this feeling?
Warmth. Affection. Like something I hadn't felt since…
I tried to focus. The adults were speaking softly, something about "Sanders." The twins kept stealing glances at me, straining to move forward, but the maids held firm. I clenched my fists. Something was wrong. I was wrong.
So… what am I doing here?
I opened my mouth to ask Who are you? But instead, I screamed. White-hot pain tore through my skull. It felt like an LRAD blast detonated inside my brain. I doubled over, clawing at my head as memories crashed in, not just mine. His.
Sanders.
I didn't notice the others scrambling around me. I didn't hear their panic. All I could do was endure it, memories of two lives colliding, like tectonic plates grinding against each other. My training kicked in, but my body was weak. Too weak.
Darkness swallowed me.
When I came to, night had fallen. My left hand was warm. I looked down. The man, Sanders' father, had fallen asleep beside the bed, still holding my hand. His grip was firm but gentle. There was a faint glow where our skin touched. I didn't feel weak anymore.
On the nearby dresser sat four empty glass vials. Antique labels, impossible to read. I should have pulled away. But I didn't.
He must have been worried. They all must have.
I took a slow breath, then exhaled. I tried to make sense of it all. I used to be Corporal Hirofumi Fitzgerald. Marine. I was in a tunnel. Then…? How did I die? Nothing. Just fog. The last clear memory was resting after securing POWs. Then a strange light. Then this.
I pressed a hand to my temple. A sharp pain stabbed behind my eyes, I bit down hard, stifling a grunt. The glow in his hand flared brighter, then dimmed.
Magic?!
I remembered. His memories, Sanders kia Ravenswood, six years old. Third son of the ruling Archduke of the Kianna Duchy. That's who I was now. Or who I had to pretend to be. Sanders' twin brothers, Watson and Isaac, were twelve, identical except for matching moles on opposite cheeks. Their 45-year old father, Archduke Alastair, still hadn't chosen an heir. Their 43-year old mother, Duchess Loretta of House Lockhart, had the grace of royalty and the eyes of someone who saw through everything.
The country I am in, the Kianna Duchy, was semi-industrial, early 20th century tech. Steamships. Telegraphs. Rifles. But it had magic too. Real magic. Though apparently, Sanders wouldn't be trained in it until age sixteen. And not here, in some foreign country in the Bellenica continental mainland called the Crotonese Empire, at their Imperial Royal Academy.
Sanders had been frail. Sickly. Not the academic type. I'd have to work with what I had. At least it wasn't a medieval shithole. If I had plumbing and antibiotics, I could make it work. I looked around again.
"Guess that's the plan," I muttered.
No idea if this was real. A dream. Purgatory. But it didn't matter. I had twenty years of experience this world didn't expect. That was my edge. I looked toward the window.
Ramirez… Monroe… Eugene…
If this is another world, I hope you bastards are safe. It would've been nice to try that stupid game after all… I never even asked the name of it. If this is a dream, I'll ask him when I wake up.
It wasn't a dream
Unknown POV
The girl knelt, her white dress fanning out around her like a lily in bloom. A sheer veil hung over her pale face. Behind her stood four maids. In front, a man in robes of office. At the far end of the throne room, a young king sat beneath a towering crown encrusted with jewels, its value eclipsing the entire economies of the barbaric Omfall continent.
"I must say, Duke Heinrich," the king began, voice cool and measured, "were it not for… it, I would have gladly offered my son's hand to your daughter. Perhaps even made certain concessions."
Duke Heinrich bowed low, his eyes glinting. "Your Highness Augustin, I share your sentiment. Forgive my bluntness, but I'm simply overwhelmed by your generosity."
"This is repayment of a debt," Augustin said flatly. "And that stubborn Archduke, he yielded easily once I dangled the right price. The Kianna Duchy is crumbling. The Ravenwood name means little now."
Heinrich turned, casting a silent wind spell behind his back.
"Thank the prince."
His daughter flinched, then stepped forward. "Th-thank you, Your Highness," she said, voice shaky at first. "I… I am honored by this opportunity." She curtsied, perfectly, eyes downcast.
"What a waste," Augustin murmured.
"Tch," Heinrich snorted.
The king rose. "Then as agreed, you depart for the Kianna Duchy tomorrow afternoon. Try not to spell doom for the ones traveling with you."