The grand double doors opened with a slow creak, revealing the King's private chamber bathed in golden light from the tall stained-glass windows.
The man who stood before them was imposing — young for a ruler, in his mid-thirties, yet already carrying an air of absolute authority. His shoulders were broad, his frame muscular, and even under the elegant royal coat, his strength was clear.
Eustass froze for a moment, his gaze locking on the man's face.
He is King Alexander Vandereich.
His eyes sharpened instantly — no longer the eyes of a child, but those of a calculating advisor from another life.
So that means… the First Prince, Lucas, is my brother. Then… my revenge will be so much easier.
The King's expression softened the moment he saw them.
"Elizabeth… Kairus… welcome."
Before Eustass could react, Elizabeth stepped forward and… kneeled.
The sight made Eustass pause. Why is she kneeling?
"You don't need to do that, Elizabeth," the King said warmly. "You are now the mother of my son. You no longer need to kneel before me."
Elizabeth only nodded. "Happy Birthday," she said softly, producing a small box and offering it to him.
The King opened it, revealing a necklace engraved with the Fritz family crest. His smile deepened.
"This… is from your family's crest."
Elizabeth stepped closer. "Let me put it on you."
The King bent slightly, allowing her to clasp it around his neck. Then, without hesitation, he pulled her into a warm embrace.
Eustass remained still, his sharp eyes watching them both.
The King then turned to him. "Kairus… are you well now? Does anything trouble you? I am sorry I couldn't visit when you were in your coma."
"It's fine," Eustass replied, his tone calm but unreadable. "I understand."
Eustass quietly stepped out of the King's chamber, leaving Elizabeth and Alexander to their conversation.
He knew these halls — every turn, every corner, every hidden corridor. In his past life, this palace was his workplace, his battlefield, and eventually… the place where he died.
As he descended toward the banquet hall, the distant murmur of laughter and clinking goblets grew louder. He stepped into the grand room, chandeliers blazing overhead, the air filled with the scent of roasted meat and sweet pastries.
Faces turned toward him. People he knew — people he remembered as older, now impossibly young.
Then it hit him.
Wait… what year is it?
He knew today was January 12 — the King's birthday — but that wasn't enough. He needed confirmation.
Eustass spotted a maid standing by the wine table and made his way over. The moment she saw him approaching, she bowed deeply.
"My prince," she said respectfully.
"What year is it?" Eustass asked, his voice low and sharp.
She straightened, a little confused. "The year 1000, Your Highness."
Eustass's mind clicked instantly. Twenty years ago.
He was thirty years old when he died. Which meant… this wasn't just reincarnation. This was rewinding time itself.
"How old am I right now?" he asked.
The maid smiled gently. "Of course, my prince. You are ten years old." She tilted her head. "Is there anything else you wish to know?"
He shook his head. "No… thank you."
As he turned toward the banquet tables, his eyes scanned the spread — towers of bread, glazed meats, fruits so fresh they almost glistened. He reached for a plate, but before his fingers touched the bread… a hand tapped his shoulder.
He froze.
That voice — calm, warm, familiar in the worst way.
"Are you alright, Kairus? I know you just woke up from a coma," the man said softly. "Do you need anything from your big brother?"
Eustass turned his head slowly. There he was. First Prince Lucas.
The reason for his death.
For a split second, Eustass's vision tunneled. His right hand tightened around the plate, while his left clenched into a fist so tight his knuckles whitened. His eyes locked on Lucas's neck — the perfect place to end it, right here, right now.
Lucas frowned slightly. "Why are you staring at me like that? Do you… need something?"
And just like that, Eustass snapped himself out of it. He wasn't the thirty-year-old Advisor anymore. He was a ten-year-old prince. In this moment, he couldn't be reckless.
He forced a neutral expression. "…No. I just want to eat."
Lucas studied him for a second before being called away by another voice across the hall. He gave Eustass a small smile. "Rest well, little brother," he said before walking off.
Eustass watched him go, his jaw tight.
Not yet, he thought. If I'm going to destroy you, I need to play this right. I need to act like someone else entirely. Slow. Careful. Strategic.
In his past life, he had been the mind that guided a prince to victory.
This time… he would use those same skills to bring a prince to ruin.
----
Eustass continued stacking his plate, moving methodically down the long banquet table. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted two familiar faces — faces that in his previous life had been older, sharper, hardened by ambition.
Prince Leigh, one year younger than Lucas, stood in animated conversation with a decorated general, his voice carrying a natural authority. Across the room, Princess Alexandra reclined elegantly in an ornate chair, a ring of maids attending to her every whim.
He knew them well. In the past, both had tried to recruit him — fought over him, even. They'd understood something Lucas never fully appreciated: if Eustass worked for you, your chances of taking the throne multiplied. And they had wanted the throne badly.
The game pieces are all here, he thought. Only the board has been reset.
Plate now full, he moved toward a quieter section of the hall — where a cluster of maids stood along the wall, keeping watch over the guests. There was an empty chair there, half-hidden behind them. As he approached, the maids stiffened in alarm, expecting scolding for standing idle.
Instead, Eustass surprised them. "Have you eaten yet?" he asked plainly.
They blinked, exchanging looks before one stammered, "Y-Yes, Your Highness."
"Good." He sat down beside them without ceremony. It was second nature — in his old life, he'd often shared meals with servants while planning military strategies. Here, it came out unconsciously.
A braver maid smiled softly. "Your Highness… how is your head? Are you feeling better?"
"I'm fine," he said, biting into a piece of bread.
Another giggled nervously. "You're so different from the other princes. Do you… like talking to us?"
"I like talking to people who answer honestly," he replied casually, sipping water.
The maids exchanged glances, clearly not used to a royal treating them like equals. Their soft chatter continued, easing the tension in the air.
Then, without warning, the maids around him went still. One by one, they lowered their heads and bowed.
Eustass turned to see why — and found a young girl, about his own height, walking toward him. He hadn't noticed her earlier. She stopped right in front of him, her eyes clear and steady, and without hesitation, cupped his cheeks in both hands.
"Are you alright?" she asked gently.
He blinked at her touch. "…Yeah. I'm fine."
Her gaze softened. "Then why are you sitting here with the maids?"
"They're easy to talk to," he said simply. "Everyone else is busy talking with each other, and I don't know them."
"If that's the case," she said with a faint smile, "you should come to me."
"I don't even know you," he replied flatly. "Why would I?"
Her smile faltered. "What do you mean? I'm your sister."
"…Sister?"
"Yes." She stepped back slightly. "I'm Celestia."
Before he could say more, a voice called out — her personal maid. Celestia gave him a small, almost reluctant smile. "If you feel lonely, Kairus… come to me. Anytime."
"…Alright." He nodded once.
And then she was gone.
Eustass sat in silence, her name echoing in his mind. Celestia.
He sifted through ten years of palace memory, but nothing surfaced. In his previous life, King Alexander had only three siblings. There was no Celestia Vandereich.
The thought hit hard. If I tampered with reality… maybe someone else did too.
Rebirth wasn't his alone. Another player could have entered this game. A new piece on the board — one he couldn't account for.
But then a colder possibility crept in. What if she isn't like me? What if she really existed… and in my past life, she died?
His grip on the cup tightened.
Reborn… or doomed to die.
And either way… she had just walked straight into his world.