“Calm down, calm down.”

I heard a voice but quickly realized it was my own. My cheeks were stained with dry tears, though they didn’t feel like the ones I shed a while ago for Leon. There was a woman towering over me, glaring at my attempt to properly look at her. I could hardly believe this woman was so elaborately dressed like we walked out of a historical drama one would find on television in my world. The way I stared probably struck her as though I was judging.

She wouldn’t be entirely wrong.

“Such a disrespectful child,” the woman spat near my feet. Her nose flared when I didn’t respond, “Where are you staring so intensely? Did you finally lose your mind?”

My gaze dropped to the floor in panic. Her domineering presence made me feel even smaller then I already was in this form. I was scared.

Patrick rushed to my side, standing between me and his mother. His arm was stretched outward to block me from her view. “Mother,” he said like uttering a foreign syllable. “Cassian must be tired. Please give him a break just this once.”

Her eyes widened slightly, surprised that he defied her. “Oh?” she asked sweetly with venom. “So you want to take his place then?”

“Yes.”

She dropped the vial in Patrick’s lap not saying another word. Her lips twisted with displeasure for a brief moment before she turned on her heels and stomped out of the room.

I reached for the bottle Patrick was holding but he pulled away so quickly as though I burned him. “Don’t,” he said sharply. “Not tonight.”

My small hands clutched at my sides, trembling as I watched him leave. My vision blurred as tears filled my eyes, spilling onto my lap.

Why? Why was I crying?

I wiped my face with my sleeve but the tears kept coming in waves of grief. My chest felt hollow like someone carved out the insides and left behind an emptiness that couldn’t be replaced. It was like I’m being forced to relive my nightmarish childhood all over again, right after the death of my first friend.

My own mother was a cruel person and similar to Calisaya’s step-mother in that regard. She took pleasure in slapping me around, calling me names, and making me feel small because of her own insecurities. I thought there was something wrong with me for the longest time but I realized that’s how low she felt about herself that she had to hurt others. The abuse was her twisted way of showing love that didn’t exist.

I took a deep shaky breath, attempting to breathe deeply. “Calm down,” I told myself again.

I noticed my body was so frail that I was mostly skin and bones. This may have been a bit of an exaggeration because I was used to my bigger body and with its absence I felt incredibly weak in this small sickly form, but this body was definitely underweight.

I quietly regretted my decisions of not treating my characters with more compassion. Can I really not choose a different starting point for this novel? Like maybe when the male lead appears, or one of the reliable side characters? I’d rather be greeted by their presence than that monstrous woman!

Soon after the disappearance of the system that announced my arrival, my body began to feel more like my own. No longer did it seem I was living as someone else since I experienced everything this body was feeling. Like hunger and longing. And even sadness.

I was locked in my room during the day with books to keep me company and at night my step-mother would stop by with another vial of poison. I kept wishing that she’d forget I was here. Why did I have to be reborn as a protagonist? I would have much rather spent my next life as a blade of grass, blowing idly in the wind.

The door suddenly burst open and my father walked inside. He was so tall and well built that I felt like he could crush me with the palm of his hand. I held my breath, not expecting a visitor at this late hour. My step-mother would soon, what was he doing here? Is he finally going to cast me away again? I half expected this day would come, not expecting much from my parents in this world.

He scooped me up in his arms and we left the room hastily. I couldn’t help but notice his long, dark beard, and untamed hair. The fur on his cape was soft and pressed against my left shoulder and arm.

My eyes widen slightly as I suddenly remembered something from before I came to this world. I was living a poor life in the slums with not even a bed to call my own. I’d live on scraps and would sometimes pester the villagers for food. The thought of starving to that extent made my belly ache just thinking about it. I don’t even know how I survived in the slums, but one day, a giant hand reached out to me and took me to my new home. Ever since then I’ve been here, trapped under my step-mother’s smelly shoe. I’ve only seen him once, but I remember that day so vividly in my mind. From that moment onward, I knew he was my father.

I was surprised there weren’t any guards outside my room. Whenever I tried to leave, there were always multiple men that tried to stop me from wandering about. We were still walking pretty fast, traveling through the empty hallways. I thought that I might slip and fall on the ground but his hold remained firm.

So, this person was my dad, huh?

I’d never been blessed with good parents. I practically raised myself even though they provided many things for me so I could live a comfortable life while I was with them.

But then my mother would ask me things like who gave you that, trying to put me in my place. It really made me not want to keep anything of hers nor what she’d given me. I didn't have anything from my parents when I left and it was probably better that way. I started out in the world with nothing and a clean slate, but without a family to fall back on either.

It would be nice to have a caring father in this lifetime, even if he let me suffer all these months, and cast me away when I was a baby.

We walked into what appeared to be his office. There was a lit fireplace illuminating the central area with fancy tables and couches huddled together. A neatly arranged desk was placed in the far back of the room with a chair for sitting. He sat me on the couch closest to the fire and knelt down to my level.

I realized his eyes were dark but surprisingly gentle. “Your silver hair looks so much like your mother.” He reached out and touched a few strands but then let go, unable to hold my gaze any longer. A moment passed before he spoke again, “You have suffered a lot for my mistakes and for that I’m truly sorry. I want you to know that you are my precious child.” He got up and walked to the large window behind his desk, staring at the night beyond.

I couldn’t really make out what he was staring at but my guess was the village. Must be nice from this view, away from harm and poverty.

“All of this wealth, this entire kingdom, will be yours someday. Do what you must to survive until then, like you have always done. Know that you have someone here on your side.”

What a fine way of saying that I should die for your cause. Are you sure you're saying what you want, dear sir?

Your words sound like deception.

But I decided it doesn’t matter whether you love me or not.

I only need you to survive.