The morning did not begin with sunlight, but with a polite yet persistent voice.

  “Mister Greg, it’s time to prepare. The carriages are ready.”

  I opened one eye.

  “‘Mister Greg’? Wow. Moving up in status. Yesterday I was ‘hey you,’ today I’m ‘mister.’ At this rate they’ll crown me king tomorrow.”

  I had nothing to pack. My entire life fit into the pockets of my new jacket: a handful of candy and a lying map.

  I stepped into the courtyard.

  Chaos.

  Servants rushed around like ants, hauling chests, boxes, dresses, cages with birds, and some incomprehensible bundles. Three enormous carriages stood ready.

  I just stood there, staring at the madness, when I felt movement behind my head.

  Someone was sneaking up.

  Target: my hair. Again.

  I ducked sharply, letting the hand pass over me.

  “What is wrong with you?!” I snapped, turning around. “At this rate I’ll go bald before I’m twenty! Do you have some kind of fetish?”

  Alexia stood there with an innocent expression, adjusting her glove.

  “Don’t flatter yourself, Greg,” she snorted. “Bald might even suit you. The shine of your head would distract enemies while you decide where to teleport.”

  “Ha-ha. Hilarious. Why aren’t you packed yet?”

  “I am packed. Over there.” She gestured toward a mountain of chests being loaded into the first carriage.

  “...That’s all yours?” My eyes nearly popped out. “Are we going to study or opening a shopping mall?”

  “That’s only the essentials,” she replied with a smug smile. “Dresses, books, cosmetics… I understand this is difficult for a barbarian like you to grasp. Your luggage is dust on your boots and bad manners. Hard to fit that into a suitcase.”

  “Yeah,” I nodded. “At least I’m free. You’re a slave to your clothes.”

  “That’s called status, Greg. But how would you know? Your status is ‘vagrant with delusions.’ By the way, hurry up. Lianelle’s things are coming next, and there will be even less space.”

  She turned on her heel and walked off to command the servants, throwing over her shoulder:

  “And don’t stand there like a post. You’re ruining the view.”

  Yeah.

  A smartmouth.

  A beautiful smartmouth.

  I climbed into the third carriage, still empty, and stretched out across the soft seat.

  Outside there was shouting, laughter, noise.

  Inside — velvet silence.

  And then it hit me.

  I stared at the golden-painted ceiling of the carriage and felt the cold emptiness inside expand.

  “Did I just submit?” I thought.

  I, who could destroy armies, was sitting here waiting to be taken to school like an obedient child.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Why?

  For candy?

  For a soft bed?

  For Alexia’s morning teasing?

  It’s pleasant. Comfortable.

  But it’s… small.

  What am I living for?

  To learn my past?

  And if I learn it — then what?

  Let’s say I find out I was a great hero.

  Or a great villain.

  Will that change the fact that I’m lying here eating candy?

  No.

  Then why look for it?

  I felt like I was wasting time.

  Precious time.

  We laugh, duel, play “hee-hee ha-ha”…

  And under my ribs there’s this leaden weight.

  Like I forgot to turn off an iron.

  Only the “iron” is something that decides the fate of the world.

  I’m supposed to do something.

  Something important.

  But I don’t remember what.

  I looked out the window at the castle walls.

  Déjà vu struck again.

  I knew this stone.

  I knew that curve of the tower.

  Not from this life.

  Did I build this castle?

  Or did I destroy it centuries ago?

  The walls said nothing.

  But they recognized me.

  I was a stranger to the people.

  But familiar to the stone.

  It was a terrible feeling.

  To be a ghost in your own house.

  To have eternity behind you—

  —and remember only the last two days.

  “I’m just a tourist in my own life,” I whispered. “A cheerful, strong, stupid tourist. And somewhere there’s a timer ticking that I can’t hear.”

  My eyes grew heavy.

  The anxiety didn’t leave.

  It just stepped into the shadows and let sleep take over.

  Under the noise of packing and Alexia’s shouting, I fell into darkness.

  I was sleeping peacefully, drooling onto a velvet pillow, when the carriage door burst open with the subtlety of a battering ram.

  “Greg, move over. Sit properly.”

  I opened my eyes.

  In the doorway stood Alexia.

  And Lianelle.

  Both of them.

  “What are you doing here?” I muttered, reluctantly pulling my legs in. “Don’t you have an entire caravan? Not enough space?”

  They climbed in, dresses rustling, and sat opposite me.

  Lianelle looked like she was doing me a favor just by being present.

  Alexia radiated enthusiasm.

  “Listen carefully, Greg,” Alexia began. “Here’s your legend. You’re our distant relative from the province. Sent to study because our father is incredibly kind and takes care of family.”

  They both smiled.

  The smiles were so fake and stretched that it physically hurt to look at them.

  “Careful,” I yawned. “Don’t tear your faces. Too much sugar. I’m getting diabetes just looking at you.”

  “Rude,” Lianelle stated flatly. “And your manners are terrible.”

  “What’s wrong with them?” I scratched my nose. “I eat with a fork. I drink from a cup.”

  “Look at yourself!” Alexia scoffed, eyeing me with disdain. “You look like a villager who robbed a scarecrow. That jacket… what is it? A potato sack with a hood?”

  “Actually,” I puffed out my chest defensively, “this outfit costs money! I paid… well… a lot! Three silver coins. And a gold on top for urgency!”

  Alexia snorted.

  Then lost it completely.

  Lianelle allowed herself a crooked smirk.

  “Three silver?” Alexia choked through laughter. “Oh gods… Greg, my handkerchief costs more than your entire wardrobe including the boots. A gold for urgency? You were swindled like an infant.”

  I felt myself redden.

  I thought I looked cool.

  Rich.

  “You think that’s funny?” I said quietly. “Have either of you ever earned money yourselves? With your own hands? Not from daddy’s treasury. I mean real work. Calluses on your palms.”

  The laughter died instantly.

  The sisters exchanged glances.

  “We don’t need to,” Lianelle replied coldly, chin lifted. “We were born to rule, not to toil.”

  “Sure,” I muttered. “Rule…”

  “Just remember the legend,” Alexia said quickly, changing the subject. “And behave.”

  “You’re talking like I’ll stay long,” I leaned back. “We’ll arrive, I’ll find your elf, ask a couple questions about my past, get answers, and leave. Simple.”

  The sisters exchanged another look.

  This time there was pity in their eyes.

  “Oh, you don’t know Master Elvindor’s personality yet…” Alexia said ominously. “‘Ask a question and leave.’ Sure. Dream on.”

  We rode another ten minutes.

  Boredom started gnawing at my brain.

  “Oh, right!” I suddenly sat up, startling Lianelle. “Where’s the Academy on the map? Let’s just teleport. Right now. Bam — we’re there.”

  “NO!” they shouted in unison.

  “Oh come on,” I raised my hand to snap. “I’ll teleport alone. You keep rattling in the carriage. I’ll wait for you there.”

  “NO!”

  Alexia grabbed my arm.

  “You’ll get lost! The legend collapses! The disguise fails! We’ll be exposed!”

  “Then give me a strand of hair,” I said. “I’ll track you with it.”

  Alexia immediately shielded her hair with her hand.

  “No.”

  She looked at my annoyed face—

  —and suddenly patted my head.

  Like a puppy.

  Or a small child.

  “There, there. Don’t act up,” she said softly, ruffling my hair. “Just be patient.”

  I brushed her off and retreated to the farthest corner of the carriage, crossing my arms and puffing my cheeks.

  “Go to hell…” I muttered. “Treating me like an idiot.”

  Alexia watched my reaction with interest.

  “Tell me…” she asked thoughtfully. “Are you actually a child, Greg? You act like a five-year-old who didn’t get his toy.”

  “I don’t know,” I snapped, staring out the window.

  There was more truth in that answer than I liked.

  I really didn’t know.

  Maybe I’m thousands of years old.

  Maybe I was born three days ago in that village and everything else is fake.

  I felt like an ancient old man trapped in a teenager’s body with a child’s brain.

  “Annoying,” I whispered to the glass.