The next morning, awareness returned with a light knock on the door.
Niklaus didn't move right away. He lay there, staring at the high, gold-carved ceiling, thinking about yesterday—his talk with the servant, the realization of his situation, the fact that this story was nothing more than a boring repetition.
Nothing worth attention.
The knock came again. More insistent this time.
"Enter."
The royal physician stepped in, followed by the same elderly servant from yesterday. The doctor was an old man in dark formal clothes, soft white hair framing his face like a halo. His eyes carried long experience—but they were cautious, restrained—as he approached the bed in measured steps.
He stopped a few steps away and bowed slightly.
"How are you feeling, Your Highness?"
His voice was calm. Professional. Empty of excess.
Niklaus answered, flatly, "Nothing different from yesterday."
The physician wasn't surprised. He likely expected that. He knew the second prince wasn't the type to share.
He began the examination with precise routine: cold fingers on the wrist, checking the pulse; light taps on the knee and elbow; a small light directed into the pupils.
Every movement was measured. Every touch carried a quiet curiosity—as if he were searching for something he couldn't say.
When he finished, he exhaled and returned his tools to the leather bag. His voice lowered slightly.
"Physically, everything appears normal. No sign of chronic illness or concerning weakness. Your pulse is strong, your reflexes are intact, your eyes respond normally to light. But... the cause of the coma remains unknown."
Niklaus lifted his head slightly. "How?"
It didn't make sense to him. Medicine here couldn't explain it? Was it that primitive... or was there something else the doctor wasn't saying?
The physician paused, weighing his words before letting them out.
"We have no definitive explanation, Your Highness. We performed every known examination. Used every available method. But your body was in complete stillness... as if the soul itself had been absent."
He looked at him more closely, then added, quieter,
"It was as if you were... missing from within."
The words carried more than diagnosis. Something heavier.
But to Niklaus, they meant little.
He had always been missing. In his previous life. In this one.
A thought crossed his mind—brief, cold.
Had the real prince died during that coma... and he had simply taken his place?
"Is there anything else?" he asked, wanting it over with.
The physician shook his head. "No, Your Highness. I'll continue monitoring you for the next few days. But medically, there's nothing concerning. Your body is fine."
Niklaus gave a slight nod and fell back into silence.
His eyes drifted to the open window.
Velvet curtains moved softly with the cold morning breeze, carrying the scent of the distant gardens—roses mixed with damp earth, and a faint trace of jasmine climbing marble pillars.
He thought about the emperor's words yesterday. The academy.
Less than a year. That's all he had before being pushed through its gates.
No refusal. No discussion. No choice.
Not even the illusion of one.
Just a piece on a board, moved along a path already decided.
Just like before.
A fighter without will. A machine that carried out orders. A puppet moving as others wanted.
And that was what Arthur hated most.
Control.
Nothing disgusted him more than being forced into something he didn't want. Forced to follow orders that meant nothing.
In his previous life, he fought because someone else wanted it. Killed because someone else paid for it. Lived because someone else decided he was still useful.
The only difference... was that back then, he chose it. Because he didn't know anything else.
Now, in this world, it was the same again.
Worse.
He didn't want anything. And he didn't even have the skills he once relied on.
This body was weak. Fragile. Untrained.
Loose muscles. Shallow lungs. Slow reactions.
No trace of what he used to be.
Just an empty shell of a worthless prince.
His gaze returned to the window. The cold air. The stone ground far below.
Far enough.
If...
A thought formed. Quiet ,Cold.
Why not?
He stood up. Pain stabbed through his bones, trying to force him back down. He ignored it.
Step by step, he walked to the window. Slow. Steady.
He stood at the carved wooden frame. The cold air brushed his face.
He looked down.
Far enough.
Then—without hesitation, without a second thought—
He jumped.
Something about the fall was fundamentally wrong.
In his old body, everything had been calculated. Every fall controlled. Every landing part of something.
His body knew how to move with impact. How to break it. How to stand again like nothing happened.
But this—
This was different.
Like a severed tree falling.
Heavy. Unbalanced. Empty of skill.
The wind whistled past him.
Not sharp. Not clean.
Just... hollow.
Then came the impact.
His head struck the stone first.
Pain exploded—sharp, blinding. A white flash behind his eyes. Then warmth spreading across his forehead.
Blood.
He tasted it.
Salt. Heat.
And through the spinning world, a thought:
Fragile. This body was disgustingly weak
Voices broke through.
Confusion. Shouts. Footsteps rushing closer.
Servants and guards gathered around him, pale, shaken.
"Your Highness!" one of them shouted, dropping beside him, hands trembling as he searched for the source of blood. "He fell from the window! Quickly—get the physician!"
Others scattered. Orders clashed. Movement everywhere.
Someone held his head steady. Another placed cloth beneath it.
Niklaus didn't care.
Not about them.
Not about the panic.
Not even about the pain pulsing in his skull.
Because something else happened.
Right then.
Through the blur of blood and pain, in that one clear corner of his mind—
A window appeared.
Transparent. Out of place.
Thin blue lines forming in the air, as if drawn by light.
Then words.
One after another.
[System Activated.]
Niklaus stared.
His eyes widened slightly. The pain faded into the background.
A system?
What is this?
The blood was still warm. The pain still there.
But distant now.
What stood before him was stranger than anything else.
A floating screen. Too precise. Too clean.
Like something that didn't belong.
More lines appeared beneath it:
[User: Niklaus Von Valdrin Theodore
Oblivion Azura]
[Age:15]
[Points:0]
[Level: Undefined]
[Attributes:]
• Physical Strength: Weak
• Combat Skills: None
• Magic: Unmastered
• Mana Capacity: Infinite (SSS)
• Special Skill: Locked (Unknown)
[Status:]
• Magical Seal: Active
Clear.
Direct.
Almost mocking.
A weak body. No defense. Nothing expected of an imperial prince.
As if it was confirming it—this body was exactly what the story said.
Worthless.
But...
Infinite mana?
What was mana?
He had never heard of it before. Not in his previous life.
Yet it felt... familiar.
In a way that didn't make sense.
As if part of him knew it. And another part was trying to remember.
That half-knowledge pressed against his mind. Like always.
Why had this body never shown it?
Why was the "special skill" locked?
What was this system?
Questions piled up, tangled with pain, with blood, with the rising voices around him.
"Your Highness! Don't move!" one guard said, trying to steady him. "The physician is coming! Stay calm!"
Niklaus looked at them through blurred vision.
And saw something.
Not just concern.
Something deeper.
Fear.
The kind that appears when people face something they don't understand.
They were looking at him like he wasn't normal.
Like this wasn't just an accident.
They thought he tried to kill himself.
Of course.
A neglected prince. Wakes from a three-month coma.
And a day later—
Jumps.
For them, there was only one explanation.
Despair.
They didn't see curiosity.
Didn't see a test.
Didn't see anything.
Just a prince who wanted to die.
Niklaus looked back at the blue window.
At the words only he could see.
Then he whispered, barely audible—
"Boring..."
The blue window flickered.
And a new line began to form.