I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. And you dressed like an idiot. Sure, it looks nice. Sure, everyone likes it. But to me... it feels awful. It's just wrong. There's zero freedom of movement in these clothes. They're restrictive. I can feel every single seam. And the worst part—there's no hood. I can't hide my eyes anymore. I'm naked before the whole world.

  The lunch bell rang. We headed to the cafeteria. Alphus walked behind me like a proud puppeteer admiring his newly strung marionette.

  We approached our table. I was just about to flop into my chair when Alphus's voice boomed in my head: "The details, Greg! The little things!" I sighed. I walked over to Alexia's chair. I gripped the backrest and carefully pulled it out. Alexia looked at me in sheer surprise, but sat down, giving me a nod and a slight smile. Then Anna walked up. I did the exact same thing for her. Pulled the chair out, inclined my head slightly—not like a slave, but with dignity—gesturing to her seat.

  "After you," I grumbled quietly.

  They sat. I sat down last. The food was served. Usually, I would tear into it like a starving beast that hadn't eaten in a week. But today... I picked up my spoon. Correctly, with three fingers. I began to eat slowly. Carefully. No smacking my lips, no stuffing my cheeks, no clinking my silverware against the bowl. I could taste the food, but I felt absolutely zero pleasure from eating because I was entirely too focused on the mechanical process.

  "Well, you are just full of surprises," Alexia broke the silence, watching as I elegantly transported a piece of stew to my mouth.

  "Yeah," Anna chimed in, beaming. "You're like a completely different person! So pleasant, clean. Cultured. It's almost unbelievable."

  "You actually look like a human being," Lianel added, taking a sip of tea. "You should have done this from the start. Opinions about you are changing right before our eyes."

  I kept chewing, trying to formulate a biting, sarcastic comeback, but then... Alexia reached out her hand again. Her fingers touched my clean, soft hair. She began to run them through the strands, lightly massaging the back of my head.

  My spoon froze halfway to my mouth. My eyes rolled back. I nearly slid right off my chair from the sheer bliss of it. My body went completely slack; that rigid, aristocratic tension inside me snapped like an over-tightened string.

  "Ooooh..." slipped out of my mouth.

  "Well, that was something," Anna giggled, watching "Count Greg" melt into a puddle of liquid cat.

  I jerked upright, shaking off the trance, but my ears were burning. They were smiling. They liked this "new Greg." But inside, my conscience was scratching at me.

  Imposter, I thought, staring down at my plate. This isn't me. This is a mask. I'm lying to them. And to myself.

  It was a foul feeling. Like I had stolen someone else's life.

  At a certain point, I just couldn't take it anymore. All this sluggish etiquette was driving me insane.

  Ah, screw it! I decided. I grabbed the spoon in a proper, comfortable grip (meaning, in my fist) and started shoveling food into the furnace as fast as an excavator.

  Suddenly, a warm hand rested on the crown of my head. Anna. She began scratching my head—slowly, rhythmically, soothingly.

  "Hush, Greg, hush," her hand seemed to say.

  Oh gods, that feels magnificent. My shoulders dropped, my fist relaxed its death grip on the spoon. I slowed down again, returning to the eating rhythm of a normal human being.

  After swallowing, I suddenly remembered Alphus's instructions. Must make polite conversation. "Um..." I cleared my throat. "How are you ladies doing?"

  Dead silence. Forks froze in mid-air. They stared at me.

  "Greg..." Lianel started cautiously. "Are you asking us 'how we are doing'? By yourself? Voluntarily?"

  I put on an indignant face and adjusted my napkin: "What's the big deal? I am a man of high society. I take an interest in the lives of my peers."

  They exchanged a look and, giggling, began to share.

  "I train with that dummy every single day," Anna complained, rubbing her shoulder.

  "Me too," Lianel added darkly. "After you gave it eyes and a nose, it's impossible to even get close to it! It sees everything!"

  "And it talks now!" Anna protested indignantly. "You gave it a mouth, and now it says the meanest things! It bashes you with a shield and yells: 'Weakness!' 'Missed!' 'Your stance is a disgrace to your bloodline!' It's actively demoralizing us!"

  I laughed into my fist. "Well, psychological warfare is a vital part of combat."

  Just then... "Achoo!" Anna sneezed. A small, polite little sneeze.

  Air raid sirens immediately started blaring in my head. "HANDKERCHIEF! Greg, Code Red! Handkerchief!" I started frantically patting myself down. I slapped my pockets, my chest, my pants. Where the hell did I put it?! In the jacket? The trousers? The sleeve?! I looked like a man trying to put out a fire on his own clothes.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  "Aha! Got it!" I victoriously whipped a pristine white handkerchief from an inner pocket and thrust it toward Anna. "Here! Bless you!"

  Anna took the handkerchief, looking at me with deep apprehension. "Oh... thank you, Greg..." She wiped her nose and looked at Alexia. "This new version of him is honestly terrifying. He's trying way too hard."

  Alexia smiled and ran her hand through my hair again, scratching behind my ear. "Alright, Greg. What's next on the agenda?"

  I froze in thought. What is next? How was I supposed to act now? I played the role during lunch. I showered. I gave her the handkerchief. But what do I do now? I can't pretend to be an aristocrat forever. My true nature demanded action, chaos, or at the very least, some good old-fashioned sarcasm.

  "Next..." I began uncertainly, poking my spoon around my plate.

  "Mmm, how are you finding today's meal, sister?" Anna suddenly chimed in, taking a sip of tea and deliberately sticking her pinky out. She was clearly parodying some snooty duchess she had seen at a reception.

  Alexia nodded, playing along, though the corners of her lips were trembling with suppressed laughter: "Quite delightful, darling. The spices are particularly exquisite today. And you, Mister Greg?" She turned to me, batting her eyelashes. "How is your soup, Mister Greg?"

  "Uhh... Mister?" I choked on air. A piece of potato lodged sideways in my throat.

  "Well, yes," Anna squinted slyly. "If we call you 'Mister,' then the Mister should address us as... what? 'Ladies'? Or 'Madams'? Or something else? I don't remember the exact terminology from the etiquette textbook, but you're our resident expert now."

  I fell into a complete stupor. I froze with the spoon halfway to my mouth. Inside my head, memories from past cycles began spinning like a broken kaleidoscope. In the 4th cycle, I was a knight, and I said "Your Grace." In the 18th, I was a barbarian, and I just grunted "Woman." In the 56th, I was a court poet, and I used flowery nonsense that would make even Alphus puke right now: "Oh, light of my eyes, outshining the very stars..."

  Everything blurred together. What century was this? What was the current etiquette? "Ladies"? Too simple. "Your Highnesses"? Way too formal for lunch. I felt like an absolute idiot. I knew how to kill a dragon with a toothpick, but I had no idea how to address a girl over a bowl of soup.

  "The soup..." I stalled, desperately trying to buy time and arrange my face into an expression of profound intellect. "The soup is quite..." I took a deep breath and blurted out the very first thing that surfaced from the memory of an ancient aristocrat: "...Quite noble, Gentlewomen."

  Dead silence. Anna snorted into her fist. Alexia covered her face with her hand, but her shoulders were shaking violently.

  "Gentlewomen?" Lianel repeated, raising a single eyebrow. "Greg, you sound exactly like my great-great-great-grandfather looks in the portrait hanging in the castle hall. That word hasn't been used in at least two hundred years."

  I turned bright red. Great. Another misfire. "I... I was just trying to be polite!" I snapped, instantly forgetting all about etiquette. "You guys confused me! 'Mister,' 'Lady'... I swear, I'm going to start calling you 'Hey, you' and 'The one with the rice' if you don't cut it out!"

  Alexia couldn't hold it in anymore and burst into bright, open laughter, reaching out to stroke my hair again to soothe the "angry aristocrat."

  "Alright, alright, don't boil over, 'Good Sir.' Just eat your soup. Being flustered actually suits you."

  I sat there, trying to breathe every other second just to make sure I wasn't violating some ancient law of table-breathing.

  Suddenly, They drifted over to our table. The local "peacocks." Students from the highest echelons of the nobility, wearing so much arrogance on their faces you could scrape it off and spread it on toast.

  "Oh, Princesses..." one of them began, bowing so low I genuinely feared for his spinal integrity. "May we join you?"

  "Yes, of course," Alexia nodded politely, though her eyes clearly read: 'I would rather you fell into the Abyss.'

  And so it began.

  "Oh, Princess Alexia, you look absolutely radiant today," one crooned.

  "And you, Milady Anna," the second one chimed in, looking at her with oily, overly slick eyes. "You are simply as magnificent as the bright sun at its zenith!"

  I started puffing up. The air inside me was boiling. I pressed my lips together so hard they turned white. "Milady Anna... Bright sun... Oh gods, I'm going to explode..."

  The guy straightened his posture, puffed out his chest, and began surveying the table like a general before a grand battle. "A fine day today," he proclaimed in an artificially deep voice. "The weather is warm, quite conducive to..."

  The dam broke.

  "BWA-HA-HA-HA-HA!"

  I bent double, nearly slamming my forehead into the table.

  "'Milady'?!" I choked out between gasps of laughter. "'Like the bright sun'?! Buddy, are you serious? Did you read that in a 3rd-century edition of 'Pick-Up Lines for Dummies'?"

  He froze, his face breaking out in blotchy red spots.

  I wiped a tear from my eye: "And how are you doing? You look like you're not paying a compliment, but planning troop movements on a battlefield. 'Alright, the left flank attacks with a smile, the right flank prepares the flattery about the weather...' Hahaha! Relax, man, that vein on your forehead is about to pop from the strain!"

  He leaped to his feet, knocking his chair over. "How dare you!" he shrieked.

  "'Hahaha, how dare you!'" I mocked him in a high-pitched voice, dramatically puckering my lips.

  And that broke the dam for everyone else. Alexia snorted into her napkin. Anna and Lianel openly laughed. Even Alphus choked on his tea, desperately trying to maintain his serious demeanor, but his shoulders were betraying him, shaking with silent laughter.

  "You... you uncultured savage!" the "peacock" roared. He grabbed his teacup and hurled the contents at me.

  I dodged it. It was effortless. I saw the exact trajectory of every single drop.

  But one... one tiny, vile, treacherous little drop... It landed squarely on my pristine white sleeve.

  Time stopped. I looked at the tiny stain. Then at the guy.

  "BOY..." I growled, my voice dropping so low the flowers in the vase a meter away physically wilted. "I have been walking on eggshells all day. I ate my soup like a sapper defusing a bomb. I haven't even breathed on this uniform! I GUARDED ITS PURITY AS THE APPLE OF MY EYE!"

  I slowly stood up. My eyes—one pitch black, the other burning red—flared with pure darkness.

  "I am going to unmake you. I will disassemble you on a molecular level and force you to lick this drop clean."

  He went deathly pale. His legs gave out. "Y-you... you're... you're a monster!" he whispered, scrambling backward.

  At that exact moment, I felt a touch. A warm palm rested firmly on the crown of my head.

  Click. My fury vanished instantly, as if someone had yanked the power cord straight out of the wall. My legs buckled on their own. I plopped back down into my chair and rested my head on the table, right on my folded arms.

  "Purrr..." I exhaled against my will, while Alexia calmly scratched me behind the ear.

  The guy snorted, muttered something about lunatics, and hastily retreated along with his entourage.

  "Well," Alexia said, continuing to pet me. "Someone's little inner demon threw quite the tantrum today."

  "Mmhmm," I mumbled into the table. "He ruined my sleeve."

  "You're awfully compliant, Greg," Anna giggled, poking my cheek with her finger. "One little pat on the head, and the 'Destroyer of Worlds' turns into a floor mat."

  "It's a tactical pause," I grumbled, not lifting my head. "I'm gathering my strength for revenge. And for dessert."