Chapter 7
The following days passed exactly the way I did not want them to, which meant the prince did not leave.
According to the story, this was where everything slowly began to fall into place.
It happened in ways that seemed soft and harmless at first.
Conversations between the prince and princess lasted a little longer than necessary.
Their glances began to carry meanings neither of them spoke aloud.
Admiration grew quietly through kindness and constant proximity, until it became something neither of them thought to question.
The kind of progression that makes readers sigh.
And somewhere in that timeline-
I was supposed to start falling for him too.
I made it a point to avoid every corridor, courtyard, and open space where that could happen. Unfortunately, palaces are designed with the strange assumption that people are supposed to belong in them.
I, apparently, did not.
So when I found myself, entirely unintentionally and very unwillingly, within visible distance of Princess Lysenne Eryndor and Lucien Viremont, I immediately knew this was a terrible situation. They were engaged in what looked like a perfectly pleasant and narratively significant interaction.
Naturally, I made a decision.
A fast one.
I left immediately.
Without dignity, without hesitation, and with a deeply sincere commitment to self-preservation.
And since my room had also lost its status as a safe space-because fate, apparently, had a habit of arriving uninvited- I decided to sneak out.
I took what little pocket money I had, wrapped it securely, and slipped out of the palace.
Surprisingly, that part was easy.
Because being a nobody has its advantages.
No one stops you.
No one questions you.
No one even notices.
-
The market was overwhelming.
Voices overlapped, vendors called out over one another, colors shifted constantly between fabrics, spices, trinkets, objects I didn't recognize but very much wanted to understand.
I walked slowly, taking it in, allowing myself, for a brief and rare moment, to exist without thinking about timelines, plotlines, or inevitable death.
Which lasted exactly until I realized-
I could not afford anything.
I stopped in front of a stall, stared at something that looked unnecessarily expensive, and sighed.
"Of course," I muttered. "Even in another world, I remain poor."
So I adjusted.
Priorities changed.
I focused on the essentials.
And after very careful consideration, I reached an important conclusion.
The most necessary thing for my well-being, stability, and continued survival-
was food.
Naturally.
That was when I saw them.
Cream buns.
Soft.
Golden.
Unapologetically inviting.
I stared at them.
They stared back.
This felt like destiny.
I stepped forward, counted my coins with the seriousness of someone making a life-altering decision, and bought exactly what I could afford.
Two.
I held them carefully, like something valuable.
Because they were.
-
I was halfway through appreciating my purchase and walking through the market with a level of peace I had not experienced since arriving here when I heard it.
Voices.
They were low and rough. Not the sound of a normal conversation. Something about them felt wrong.
I slowed down and listened for a moment.
Then I kept walking.
Because I had already learned my lesson.
I had intervened once before.
That experience ended with me falling off a bridge and dying.
Very informative experience.
Extremely effective at teaching consequences.
I had no intention of repeating it.
Except-
"...you're dead," someone said.
I stopped.
Closed my eyes briefly.
"Of course," I whispered.
Because apparently, I have a very specific talent for locating trouble and then emotionally committing to it.
Slowly and carefully, I walked towards the sound.
The alley was narrow and covered in shadows. It was also exactly the kind of place where good decisions quietly went to die.
There were three of them. Maybe four. They had cornered a fragile-looking boy.
He stood with his back against the wall. He was tall, but far too thin. His clothes were worn and torn, and dark hair fell across his face.
But not enough to hide his eyes.
Those eyes were not afraid.
They were not broken either.
They were defiant.
Even now. Even in this situation.
I hesitated.
Because this felt familiar.
Not the alley. Not the people.
Just the situation itself.
The same pull. The same instinct. The same kind of decision-making that had previously ended with me in a river.
"Don't," I told myself quietly. "Just leave."
One of them stepped closer to the boy.
"You're dead," he repeated.
I let out a slow breath.
Right.
So much for leaving.
Still, this time I planned to behave intelligently.
I did not step forward. I did not confront them directly. Instead, I stayed out of sight and raised my voice sharply.
"Hey! You thugs! Found you! Guards! They're here. Arrest them!"
The reaction was immediate.
They froze for half a second, then panicked.
"Guards?"
"Run!"
And just like that, they disappeared.
Efficient. Clean. Nobody fell into a river this time.
Personal growth.
I waited for a moment before stepping into the alley.
He was still there.
Still leaning against the wall and still looking at me.
He did not look relieved or grateful. He was just watching me carefully.
I shifted slightly under that stare.
"Are you... alright?" I asked.
He did not answer.
He did not even move. He just kept looking at me with the same unreadable expression.
I cleared my throat.
"Your appearance is-" I stopped halfway and immediately regretted starting that sentence.
"I mean, not okay, but not in a bad way. Your face is fine, actually. You're quite good-looking. It's just the clothes. They look... bad. I mean poor bad, not bad bad. You look like you've been through something. Which you clearly have, so that part at least makes sense."
I shook my head.
"I am not helping this conversation at all."
I took a breath.
"Right," I said. "I'm not very good at talking to people."
He stayed silent.
"Let's not stand here," I added. "This alley feels deeply committed to bad life choices."
I turned and started walking.
A second later, I heard footsteps behind me.
He was following me.
Of course he was.
I glanced back briefly. "That was not an invitation," I informed him.
He gave no response and continued following me anyway.
I looked forward again.
"Fine," I muttered. "We'll call this temporary."
We walked in silence while the sounds of the market slowly filled the space he refused to contribute to.
"Where are you from?" I asked after a while.
Nothing.
"Ah," I said. "So conversation is not your passion."
Still nothing.
I glanced at him again, this time more carefully. His features were sharp, and despite everything, he carried himself with strange composure.
Then I noticed how thin he was.
Oh.
Right.
"Are you hungry?" I asked.
He did not speak, but he gave a small nod.
I looked down at the buns in my hands.
My two carefully budgeted and emotionally significant buns.
I sighed deeply.
"With great personal sacrifice," I muttered, holding one out to him, "take it. You clearly need it more than I do."
He looked at the bun.
Then at me.
Then he took it.
I nodded once, as though I had just made a major humanitarian contribution, and continued walking.
By the time we neared the palace grounds, the sky had darkened. The distant sounds of the bell had also softened into something less annoying.
Which probably meant the important romantic conversations between the prince and princess had already happened. They had likely exchanged meaningful glances, advanced the plot, and returned to their rooms like responsible main characters.
The story had probably corrected itself without involving me.
Good.
That was excellent news.
I slowed down and eventually stopped. Then I turned to him.
"You can't come any further," I said, gesturing toward the palace gates. "This is where we part ways."
He did not move.
"Meaning," I clarified, "you go home and I go inside."
Still nothing.
I sighed.
"Right. Look - what's your name?"
There was a short pause.
Then he finally spoke.
"Rhaevan."
I blinked at him in confusion for a second before nodding quickly.
"Good," I said. "Nice name. Very memorable. Unfortunately, this is also a palace, and people generally need permission to enter those. So you should probably go home now."
He continued staring at me.
I had absolutely no idea what to do with that.
The awkwardness was becoming physically unbearable, so I turned around before my soul left my body.
"Alright. Bye."
Then I walked into the palace without looking back.
I made it all the way to my room.
I closed the door behind me and leaned against it as the silence settled.
"...Rhaevan?"
I repeated the name slowly.
Once.
Twice.
Then again.
"Rhaevan."
Why did that sound familiar?
I frowned and pushed myself away from the door. Then I started pacing, because apparently that had become my default coping mechanism.
"Think," I muttered. "Where have I heard that before?"
Then it hit me.
Clear enough to ruin my entire evening instantly.
I stopped walking.
"Oh no."
I stared ahead while my stomach dropped in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with losing half a bun.
"No. No, no, no."
Because that was not just some random character.
That was him.
The one I- the one Cassiane- trusted.
The one she relied on and allowed herself to grow close to.
The one who eventually betrayed her.
Because he did not choose me.
He chose Lysenne instead.
Kind, gentle, painfully perfect Lysenne.
I had somehow managed to avoid one disaster only to walk directly into another one.
I slowly lowered my hands from my face and stared blankly ahead.
Then I spoke very quietly.
"What is actually wrong with me?"