I snapped my eyes open.

...

Above me stretched a tall, intricately carved ceiling adorned with gold. The air smelled of incense and something floral. My eyelids felt heavy, my body strangely numb, and my head buzzed like after a good fight.

I tried to sit up, but my body refused to cooperate.

...Felt like I had been drinking all night and was only now coming to my senses.

— Damn...

The voice sounded unfamiliar. Softer than my old one. Quieter.

Looking around, I took in the room.

...It was big.

...No, gigantic.

A wide canopy bed, massive windows letting in the morning light, shelves lined with books, vases, delicate curtains. Everything was too luxurious, too pristine.

...Holy shit, the chandelier alone probably costs as much as my entire neighborhood.

I tried to stand, but my legs immediately buckled beneath me.

— Son of a—

At that moment, footsteps sounded outside the door, followed by a cautious knock.

— Your Highness?

...Who the hell is knocking on a prince's door this early in the morning?

— What?

The door creaked open, and a young man stepped inside.

He looked about my age. Slightly shorter than me, lean, composed. Dressed in something between a military uniform and a servant's attire.

A butler? A warrior?

No... more likely a personal bodyguard.

...He might seem calm, but something was clearly bothering him... like my behavior had thrown him off.

He shut the door behind him, straightened his posture, and bowed—just enough to follow protocol.

— You are awake, Your Highness.

At that moment, an absolutely brilliant idea popped into my head.

...God didn't send me here to save the world—more like the opposite.

Which meant there was no reason for me to act like some noble hero. That left me with two possible paths forward.

...One—they think I'm a demon possessing the prince and either execute, exile, or imprison me.

...Two—I come up with a solid excuse for my behavior, so I don't have to pretend to be a good guy.

I lazily narrowed my eyes, studying the guy.

— Are you stupid? Do I talk in my sleep?

He didn't react. Just stood there with a stone-cold expression like he had a stick shoved up his ass. But I knew—deep down, he was definitely freaking out.

I smirked and finally pushed myself to my feet. My body still felt foreign, my movements clumsy, but I managed to stay upright.

The guy watched me closely but didn't interfere.

Now, I needed more information.

...Guessing his name wouldn't be hard. I remembered old man Frans once saying that all butlers were called the same thing.

— You know, Elliot, I had a strange dream last nigh—

— But Your Highness, my name isn't Elliot...

...

...Damn that old man. If we ever meet again, I'm kicking his ass.

— Remind me, what's your name?

— Cade, Your Highness.

— Right, Cade. I had a nightmare last night.

I rubbed my temples, pretending to recall details, and sighed heavily.

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— …And it wasn't just any nightmare. It was... a warning.

Cade's brow twitched slightly.

— A warning, Your Highness?

— Yeah. Picture this: the world in ruins, kingdoms reduced to ashes, and the streets crawling with creatures like the living dead. People running, screaming—no place to hide. And in the midst of it all... me.

I paused, gauging his reaction. He remained still, but now he was openly frowning.

— Then, someone appeared before me. A tall figure, white eyes, a voice straight out of the abyss. They said: "Reisuke Fujiwara..."

Cade's head snapped up.

— …Fujiwara?

Shit...

— I mean, Reisuke Asterion.

...Almost slipped up.

— Anyway, this figure told me it would all come to pass unless something changed.

Cade stayed silent, clearly trying to process everything.

— Your Highness… may I ask, who was this figure?

I pretended to think.

— Hard to say. A god? A prophet? Maybe the King of Fate himself. Who knows. The important part is—they said if nothing changes, in ten years, there will be nothing left but dust.

— Ten years?..

Cade clenched his fists, tension flashing in his eyes.

I nearly grinned.

...Perfect. He was already taking the bait.

— Exactly. And they said it all depends on me. That it's up to me to defy fate...

I sat back on the bed, looking down at my hands with a grim expression.

— Honestly, I don't know what to do about it.

Silence.

Cade was clearly deep in thought. Not surprising—if someone dumped this kind of crap on me first thing in the morning, I'd also be questioning their sanity.

— Your Highness... perhaps it was just a dream?

...Good. Time to keep up the act.

I smirked.

— Then why does it feel so real? You know how dreams usually fade? This one hasn't. I can still see it clearly.

Cade nodded slowly but didn't look convinced.

— And what do you intend to do?

I stretched, giving a lazy grin.

...Time to show I was obsessed with this vision.

— Well, for starters, if the dream was real, then someone in this kingdom is going to make the wrong move. The question is who... and when.

Cade's frown deepened.

— That almost sounds like you intend to interfere with history.

— Damn right I do. The future isn't set in stone, is it?

Cade opened his mouth as if to argue but hesitated. Probably still trying to figure out what the hell was going on with me.

...Let him wonder.

— Alright, Cade. Here's the deal. First, I need you.

— Need me?

— Yeah. You're going to keep your ears open and report anything unusual happening in the kingdom. Got it?

Cade hesitated before giving a slow nod.

— If that is your wish, Your Highness…

— Good. Second… I need to get myself together. A prince walking around looking like he's hungover isn't a good look.

For the first time, Cade let out a small smirk.

— As you wish, Your Highness.

He turned and headed for the door, but before leaving, he glanced back over his shoulder.

— I will instruct the servants to prepare your attire. A maid will come for you in ten minutes.

...How thoughtful.

Left alone, I glanced around the room again. This wealth… it was mine now.

In my past life, I ruled the streets, but I had never been rich.

Now? Now things were different. I wasn't just a gangster—I was a crown prince.

I slowly ran a hand over the gilded bedside table, feeling the smooth, expensive wood, then looked up at the massive chandelier encrusted with gems.

A smirk crept onto my lips.

— This room, this palace, hell, this entire kingdom—it's mine now.

My whole life, I had to scrape by, fight for every scrap, survive on the streets. But now, I was rich. Filthy rich.

And if anyone thought I'd give all this up—even for some noble cause—they could shove that idea up their ass.

I was never generous.

I was greedy. To the core.

Greedy for power, wealth, influence. And now, I had the chance to take this world in my hands.

I traced my fingers along my neck, brushing against the hidden magic—a rose-shaped mark given to me by a god.

...Damn it, that god... Maybe I really should have thanked him.

...

There was another knock on the door.

— Your Highness, may I come in?

A female voice. Must be the maid Cade mentioned.

— Come in.

The door opened, and a young woman stepped inside.

— Your Highness.

Her voice was calm.

— Cade told me you had a nightmare. I hope you're feeling better.

...Didn't think Cade had such a loose tongue.

— As you can see, I'm fine.

She tilted her head slightly, as if debating whether to say something else, but in the end, remained silent.

— Allow me to escort you to the wardrobe.

I turned my head and finally looked at her. Delicate, but with her head held high. Chestnut hair neatly tied into a bun, her gaze calm yet attentive. Dressed in a classic maid's uniform, without any excessive embellishments.

...Damn, both she and Cade look like they walked straight out of a magazine cover.

— Alright. Lead the way.

She nodded silently and moved toward the door.

We walked through the corridor, took a few turns, and soon arrived at a massive door. The maid pushed it open, revealing a room filled with wardrobes, mannequins, and shelves stacked with clothing.

— This is the wardrobe, Your Highness. Here, outfits from all over the kingdom have been gathered for you.

I let my gaze wander over the neatly arranged suits, robes, and coats. All this expensive fabric embroidered with gold looked... awful. Too extravagant, too pretentious.

...Did the previous prince really wear all this without feeling disgusted?

I picked up the nearest coat and turned it in my hands. It was covered in a ridiculous amount of patterns and embroidery.

— Seriously? I look like a wedding cake in this.

The maid didn't reply, but the corners of her lips twitched.

— Do you have any preferences, Your Highness?

— Something simple and comfortable.

She pondered for a moment, then walked toward the farthest wardrobe.

— Perhaps this will do.

She struggled to pull out some bizarre outfit and proudly announced:

— This is the traditional attire of the royal family! Your father wore it as well!

I looked at this monstrosity and couldn't believe my eyes.

Before me was some kind of robe with frills, ridiculous golden patterns, and baggy pants.

...Am I really supposed to wear this in public?

— Denied.

— Pardon?

— I wouldn't even use this as a cleaning rag. I'd feel bad watching it rot.

She puffed out her cheeks, clearly offended, but I couldn't care less.

...I'm not going to look like a circus clown.

Alright, let's see what we've got here. Garbage, trash, too tight, too stiff...

...Now this looks decent.

Five minutes later, I was dressed: black trousers, a leather vest with metal accents, a white shirt with the top buttons undone, and a black cloak that draped perfectly over my shoulders.

...Still not perfect, but at least presentable.

I turned to the maid.

— How do y...

She stood there, mouth open.

— W-what… But… How...

...Guess I did a good job.

— At least now I won't be ashamed to step outside. So, shall we go? Or are you just going to stand there with your mouth open?