Chapter 2: Our Hero

Our hero, Rhode, Third Prince of the wicked empire, was dead.

The notorious playboy had caused quite a stir at court the day before. On hearing that the imperial cavalry had crushed the elven rebellion at the border, he had marched shamelessly into the old emperor’s chambers and volunteered to “interrogate” the three captive elven royals being brought to the capital.

He called it an interrogation, but even the beggars on the streets knew what was really on his mind.

The old emperor, eager to humiliate the proud elves, had actually agreed.

With the decree in hand, Rhode had booked the capital’s finest tavern and celebrated all night. He didn’t stagger back to the palace until dawn.

That morning, as he was preparing to leave for the imperial prison, the still-dizzy prince stepped on an empty bottle rolling down the stairs. The back of his head made intimate contact with the marble steps, and the capital’s most useless wastrel brought his wicked life to an abrupt and undignified end.

At the very same moment, in a modern city in a parallel universe, a homebody office worker who had been working overtime for forty-eight hours stared at a requirements document on his screen, clutching a cup of noodles that hadn’t finished steeping.

A sharp pain tore through his chest. His vision went black, and he collapsed onto the keyboard, dead from overwork.

Somewhere in the crossing, his soul slipped neatly into the prince’s distinguished body.

“Your Highness! Please, wake up!”

A shrill cry rang in his ears. Then two hands clamped onto his shoulders and shook him with inhuman vigor.

Rhode opened his eyes. His vision was blurred, a piercing ache stabbed through his head, and the alcohol and acid in his stomach sloshed dangerously with every shake.

A maid knelt on the cold marble floor, gripping his collar and rocking him back and forth. Her name was Hongye, his personal maid. Her eyes were red, and fat tears splashed onto his pale face.

She was terrified. If her master died on the stairs, the Imperial Tribunal would send her to the gallows tomorrow.

“Stop shaking me…” Rhode forced the words out and caught her wrist. “Keep that up and I’ll throw up in your face.”

At the sound of his weak voice, Hongye froze. Then she threw her arms around his neck.

“Thank goodness, Your Highness! You’re alive! I thought I’d have to die with you!” She gasped for breath, her legs weak with relief.

Nearly strangled, Rhode pried her arms away and pushed himself upright against the cold floor. As he gulped down air, his vision cleared. A soaring Gothic vault rose overhead, torches burned along the walls, and before him stood a young woman in remarkably scant clothing.

“Where am I?” He rubbed the back of his throbbing head and looked around in bewilderment.

The moment he spoke, a torrent of unfamiliar images and information shot through his mind like an electric current.

The Calindia Empire. The Third Prince. The elven rebellion. A bottle. The stairs. And a great many scenes of debauchery he would rather not have seen.

Rhode sat rigidly on the steps, mouth open and eyes wide.

*Damn. Did I just transmigrate?*

*Into an imperial prince who slipped on a bottle and died?*

He pressed his temples, trying to sort through the chaos. The prince’s memories were full of drinking, gambling and whoring, along with every manner of bullying and abuse.

*The guy was a complete scumbag!*

Only yesterday, he’d secured his father’s permission to deal with the elven queen and princess. He’d planned to have his fun today, only to fall to his death first.

Rhode sat there in a daze, struggling to absorb it all. Hongye’s anxious voice faded into the background.

“Your Highness? Can you hear me? Should I fetch the royal physician? There’s an awful bump on the back of your head.” She reached for it, but Rhode turned away.

He took a deep breath and finally looked at her properly. Hongye had delicate features, but her outfit was impossible to overlook. After staring at her for a full ten seconds, he asked, “Why are you dressed like that?”

Her pale cheeks flushed scarlet. She tugged awkwardly at her very short skirt and lowered her head. “You asked me to, Your Highness. You chose the uniform yourself. You said it was the prettiest sight in the whole residence.”

A memory flashed through Rhode’s mind: his predecessor taking a design to a tailor and ordering the outfit himself.

“Oh. Right. I suppose I did.” He rubbed his nose and hurriedly changed the subject. “What were we going to do next?”

“Go to the prison and interrogate the elven queen, of course.” Hongye stood, brushed the dust from her skirt and eyed him with growing suspicion.

“Right. The prison.” Rhode pulled himself up by the banister.

Hongye took half a step back and looked him over. “Your Highness, you haven’t knocked yourself silly, have you?”

“Nonsense. Survive a disaster and good fortune is bound to follow.” He brushed down his rather extravagant silk dressing gown, his head still aching. “Find me something I can wear outside. I can’t go to prison dressed like this.”

Hongye pursed her lips and went to the enormous wooden wardrobe. “You usually dress even more outrageously when you go out to do… well, those things. Last time you went to Spring Breeze House, you insisted on wearing that glittering gold coat. You said you wanted to blind everyone in the city.”

Rhode’s mouth twitched. *What kind of world-class weirdo was this man?*

He went to the floor-length mirror and studied the young man with bright red hair and shadows beneath his eyes. At least he was handsome, though those dark circles suggested he’d worn himself out. Then again, Rhode hadn’t been much better off in his previous life.

“So, to interrogate the queen… do I need to bring any paperwork? A handover form or something?” His old office habits surfaced without thinking.

Hongye turned around with a dark-purple formal suit in her hands and stared at him as though he were a monster. “Paperwork? A handover form? Since when have you ever needed those?”

“Then what should I bring?” Rhode asked, taking the clothes.

“Your whip, candles and those strange potions, of course.” She pointed to a huge black trunk in the corner. “I’ve already packed them. Shall I have the coachman load it now?”