The moment Arthur’s eyes scanned the contents of the letter, his expression darkened. He read it again, making sure he hadn’t misinterpreted the words.

To His Majesty, King Arthur of Keldoria,

We hereby inform you that your younger siblings, Alice and Aaron, will be returning to the royal palace for the winter. Their progress in magical studies has been exceptional, and we trust that their return will be of significance to the royal family.

Sincerely,

Headmaster of Solarny Magic Academy

Arthur exhaled slowly, gripping the letter tightly. A cold, unwelcome feeling settled in his chest.

Alice and Aaron... I forgot about them.

They had been out of sight and out of his mind since he was transmigrated. His days had been consumed by reforming the kingdom, making plans and rules for the new tax reform, and stabilizing the fragile political landscape.

Arthur turned to Ben and his team, “I believe I’ve explained everything about the machine. I’ll return to my chamber for now. If you have any questions, direct them to my valet.”

Ben and the others exchanged glances before bowing. “Understood, Your Majesty. Thank you for taking the time to address our concerns.”

Arthur gave a small nod and left the workshop. The hallways of the palace were quiet, but his mind was anything but. With each step, old memories resurfaced—some faint, others sharp as a dagger.

By the time he reached his chamber, his head was a whirlwind of thoughts. He sat at his desk, placing the letter before him, his fingers tapping against the polished wood. Then, with a slow exhale, he leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes as he tried to recall the fragmented memories of Arthur.

Alice was the prodigy of the family. Nobles whispered her name with admiration, awed by her unparalleled affinity for magic. From an early age, she had displayed an exceptional grasp of spellcraft, mastering disciplines that required both intellect and precision. While most mages can only use a single element, Alice wielded both fire and wind, a rare and dangerous combination. Her brilliance extended beyond magic—she was sharp, calculating, always planning several steps ahead.

But with her talent came an arrogance that was impossible to ignore. Alice had little patience for those she deemed incompetent, and to her, Arthur had been the most glaring disappointment of all. Magicless, awkward, lacking ambition—he was an anomaly in the royal bloodline, a defect. She had never openly disrespected him, but her cold indifference had been sharper than any insult. She only acknowledged his presence when necessary, her gaze devoid of warmth, her words cutting through his insecurities like a blade.

“You are an anomaly,” she had once told him, voice devoid of emotion. “Magic is the foundation of power in this kingdom. Without it, what are you?”

He’d had no answer back then. He had drowned his resentment in alcohol, pretending her words meant nothing, but deep down, they had festered, carving wounds that never fully healed.

But now, things are different. He was not the Arthur she know but another person, who has restructured the tax system, aiming for industrial advancements, and set Keldoria on a path that didn’t rely solely on magic.

Would Alice acknowledge that? Or would she dismiss my reforms as distractions from what she considered true power?

Arthur exhaled sharply, forcing himself to focus on the youngest sibling, Aaron. Unlike Alice, Aaron hadn’t been hailed as a prodigy, but he was still a genius in his own right. He lacked the versatility of their sister, unable to wield dual magic, but what he did possess something unique magic—magma. It had taken him years to master, but with relentless discipline and determination, he had risen to prominence as one of the academy’s most promising and powerful mages.

However, Aaron was different from Alice in other ways, too. He was warm, understanding, and genuinely cared for the people of Keldoria. He didn’t share Alice’s arrogance or cold demeanor, nor did he view power as the only measure of worth. He had a strong sense of justice and had always sought to use his magic to protect rather than dominate.

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But Aaron had despised Arthur.

Not because of his lack of magic, but because of the person he had been. Arthur had spent years as a selfish, arrogant drunk, lashing out at those around him, mistreating workers, belittling servants, throwing his weight around simply because he could. To Aaron, it had been unbearable to watch his older brother waste away in decadence while people struggled.

Worse still, many had believed Aaron would be the rightful successor to the throne. He was talented, capable, and unlike Arthur, he had a natural charisma that drew people in. He was everything a king should have been. But fate had been cruel. Their father’s assassination had forced Arthur onto the throne, not because of merit, but because he was the eldest.

He could still remember the look on Aaron’s face when the coronation was announced.

Not anger. Not sadness. Just pure, unfiltered disgust.

And previous Arthur? He had laughed. Not out of joy, nor confidence, but because it was easier to mock than to face the truth of what he had become. Deep in his own self-loathing, he had thrown Aaron’s contempt right back at him. That had been the final blow.

From that moment on, Aaron had stopped seeing him as a brother. He had started seeing him as a disgrace.

Despite their contempt for him, neither Alice nor Aaron had ever wished for Keldoria’s downfall. They were loyal to the kingdom, even if they believed its future should be in more capable hands. Their disappointment had only deepened as Arthur spiraled further into self-destruction, drowning himself in alcohol, squandering the months he should have spent trying to rule and improve Keldoria. Alice had written him off as a lost cause, while Aaron had been more vocal, openly expressing his disappointment, calling him out for what he was—a failure.

Arthur clenched his jaw.

Great. Both of Arthur’s siblings despised him. As if that weren’t bad enough, they were both hailed as geniuses while he had been dismissed as talentless—a lost cause unworthy of the throne.

Damn it. Whoever threw me into this body must have done it on purpose. Why the hell would they send me here—to a life where I’m hated by everyone?

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

Were Alice and Aaron returning simply for the winter, like they used to when their parents were alive? Or was there another reason? Were they coming to challenge the changes I had made to the kingdom?

Arthur exhaled slowly, his mind racing. Whatever the reason, I had no choice but to face them.

A knock at the door broke his thoughts. He straightened and said, “Enter.”

The door swung open, and Klein stepped inside. Bowing slightly, he asked, “That letter—was it about Alice and Aaron returning for the winter?”

Arthur nodded. “You’re right. How much longer do you estimate before they arrive?”

“Since the message was sent by a messenger bird, it arrived faster than carriage. I estimate they’ll be here in four to five days.”

Arthur sighed. “I see. Thanks. But you didn’t come just to ask about that, did you?”

Klein hesitated before nodding. “Actually, Your Majesty, I came to deliver another letter.”

Arthur raised a brow. “Another one?”

“Yes, but this one may be even more important than the academy’s message.”

Arthur leaned forward, intrigued. “Who’s it from?”

Klein’s expression turned serious. “Brandon Rivas, King of Chronos.”

Arthur’s thoughts came to a halt.

What the hell? Didn’t I just respond to his warning about the nobility turning against me for enforcing the new tax reform? I told him—politely—to mind his own business and that I could handle my own kingdom. So what now?

Arthur refocused. “Hand it to me.”

Klein stepped forward and placed the sealed envelope on the desk before bowing and leaving the chamber.

Arthur broke the seal and unfolded the letter. His eyes quickly scanned the contents. His jaw tightened.

So, the letter is a reminder about the one million gold coins due in three months.

He let out a slow sigh, leaning back in his chair. Well, I wasn’t planning to pay it anyway, but now that the deadline is approaching, I need to prepare for a diplomatic discussion. Winter would be the perfect time—warfare is difficult when food is scarce, which makes negotiation far more favorable.

Despite Keldoria’s weaker military, I still hold the advantage in these talks.

Pulling out a sheet of parchment—choosing it over paper, which was considered cheap—Arthur dipped his quill in ink and began to write.

To Brandon Rivas, King of Chronos,

I hope this letter finds you well.

I have received your message regarding the repayment of the one million gold coins due in three months. I am fully aware of this debt. That said, I propose we meet before the deadline to discuss the terms and establish a new understanding between our kingdoms.

I also assume you are curious about the tax reforms I have implemented, as well as how I plan to handle noble opposition. Rather than speculate, why not meet in person and have an open discussion?

Regards,

Arthur Jr.

Sealing the letter, Arthur called for a valet to summon Klein. A few moments later, Klein returned.

Arthur handed him the parchment. “Seal this and have it sent to Chronos.”

Klein hesitated for a brief moment before asking, “If I may, what is the letter about?”

Arthur glanced at him. “A reminder about the one million gold coin debt from a previous agreement.”

Klein’s face grew tense, but he didn't ask further. He bowed, took the letter, and left the chamber.

Now alone, Arthur leaned back, exhaling slowly. The reply from Chronos would take time to arrive. Until then, I had to focus on the family reunion.