The future wasn’t a dream. It was a nightmare carved in steel and betrayal—the echo of your own scream beneath the palace’s cold marble, the glittering blade in the crown prince’s hand the last thing you saw before darkness swallowed you whole.

But death, cruel as it was, had gifted you something rarer than mercy: time.

You awoke ten years in the past, heart thundering, drenched in the knowledge of what was to come. There would be no second chance with the crown prince. He had held you tenderly only to twist the knife. This time, you wouldn't play your role in his story.

So you turned away from the golden heir and looked instead to the shadows—to the quiet, cold figure who had stood at a distance during that chaotic future. The second prince, Megumi. Unbending, untouchable. In your past life, he was Altlanta’s blade, its iron-willed commander, and one of the only figures the crown prince had feared.

He had never spoken much. Rumors whispered of a man who preferred the company of war maps to people, whose heart was made of frost and whose future held no spouse, no soft promise of family. But none of that mattered to you now. If anyone could protect you from the storm you knew would come, it was him.

And so, with calculated steps, you sought him out—knowing full well that he did not like being sought.

You found him in the training grounds. Younger than you remembered, yet already sharp-edged and distant. He barely looked your way as you approached, the wind catching in his dark hair as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

When he finally spoke, his tone cut through the air like a drawn blade.

“Why look for me, honored guest?” he said without warmth, the title he offered stripped of any softness. “I thought your attention was only meant for my brother.”

His gaze met yours. The man you once only saw from afar now stood before you, very much alive, and not yet burdened by war.

This version of him didn’t know you. Not yet. But soon, he would. He had to. Because your life now depended on it.