Pain.
That was the first thing Arjun Rathore felt.
Not the sharp, blinding agony of a bullet wound.
Not the dull ache of bruised muscles after combat.
This was different.
It was as if his entire body had been torn apart, stitched back together, and then thrown into a furnace.
For a long moment, he couldn't breathe.
Couldn't think.
Couldn't even tell whether he was alive.
Then came the sound.
Wind.
Cold wind.
Leaves rustling overhead.
A distant owl calling into the darkness.
Arjun's eyes snapped open.
Above him stretched a canopy of twisted branches, their leaves swaying under the pale silver light of the moon. The stars above seemed sharper somehow, brighter than they had ever looked in the desert sky.
He gasped and pushed himself upright.
His entire body screamed in protest.
"Damn…"
The word came out hoarsely.
He looked around.
Forest.
Dense.
Ancient.
Tall pine-like trees surrounded him, their trunks thick and dark. Mist drifted lazily through the undergrowth, wrapping the night in an eerie silence.
This was not the gorge.
This was not the desert excavation site.
His soldier instincts flared instantly.
Unknown location.
No visible enemies.
Limited moonlight.
Possible wildlife.
Possible pursuit.
He forced himself to breathe steadily.
Think.
The last thing he remembered—
The rope snapped.
Falling.
Meiyue's face.
The abyss.
Then darkness.
So how was he here?
His hand instinctively moved to the back of his head.
No fresh wound.
No blood.
No pain there.
Instead, his fingers brushed something else.
Long fabric.
He froze.
Fabric?
Arjun looked down.
His breath caught.
He was no longer wearing his tactical field gear.
Gone were the dark combat jacket, reinforced boots, and military trousers.
Instead, he wore ancient robes.
Silk.
Dark blue with golden embroidery.
The kind he had only ever seen in historical dramas.
For a moment, his brain refused to process it.
Then he looked at his hands.
The same hands.
Same scars.
Same fingers.
But dressed in sleeves embroidered with dragons.
"Yeh kya bakwaas hai…"
What the hell is this…
He pushed himself to his feet and staggered toward a nearby pool of still water between the roots of an old tree.
Moonlight reflected off its surface.
Arjun leaned over.
And froze.
The face staring back at him was his.
Exactly his.
Sharp jawline.
Dark eyes.
Same scar above the eyebrow from his first special forces mission.
Same face.
But framed by long black hair tied behind in an ancient warrior's knot.
For the first time in years, fear brushed the edge of his mind.
No.
Not fear.
Disbelief.
"Main zinda hoon?"
Am I alive?
Before he could think further—
Pain exploded inside his skull.
A violent, crushing force slammed through his mind.
Arjun staggered back and dropped to one knee.
His vision blurred.
Then memories flooded in.
Not his.
Someone else's.
A palace drenched in gold.
A throne room.
A king seated beneath a dragon banner.
Ministers kneeling.
A younger prince smiles coldly.
A beautiful concubine whispering into the king's ear.
And then—
betrayal.
Framed.
Poison accusation.
False evidence.
Public disgrace.
A royal decree.
"Crown Prince Long Wei is hereby stripped of title and reduced to commoner status. He shall be exiled to the northern border for five years."
The voice thundered inside his mind.
Arjun clutched his head.
Images came faster.
The younger brother.
Prince Long Jun
Cold smile.
Sharp eyes.
The king's favoured concubine.
Consort Mei
Graceful.
Dangerous.
Venom hidden behind elegance.
Then came the journey.
A royal carriage.
Few guards.
Dark forest road.
Masked assassins.
Blood.
Steel.
Screams.
A blade pierces the chest of the prince.
Then darkness.
Arjun's eyes widened.
"This body…"
The truth crashed into him.
He wasn't alive in the way he understood.
He had entered another body.
Another world.
Another life.
The body of the dead crown prince.
Long Wei
His breathing turned ragged.
"No… impossible…"
But the memories kept coming.
Long Wei's life.
His childhood.
Sword training.
His mother's death.
His years as crown prince.
The betrayal.
The exile.
The ambush.
Every memory now sat inside Arjun's mind as clearly as his own.
Two lives.
One soul.
The pain slowly subsided.
He remained kneeling in the dirt for several moments.
The wind moved through the forest.
Cold.
Sharp.
Real.
At last, Arjun stood.
His mind, trained by years of battlefield chaos, began to stabilise.
Panic was useless.
Information mattered.
Assessment mattered.
He looked down at the chest area of the robe.
Dark blood stained the silk.
There.
A sword wound.
He carefully pulled the robe aside.
The wound had already begun to close.
Not naturally.
The flesh looked almost… restored.
He frowned.
Impossible.
Then something cold pressed against his side.
Arjun reached inside the inner fold of the robe.
His fingers froze.
The jade pendant.
The same pendant.
It rested against his palm, glowing faintly green beneath the moonlight.
His heartbeat slowed.
So it had come with him.
Or perhaps—
It had brought him here.
A memory from the tomb flashed through his mind.
The king has returned…
Arjun stared at the pendant.
Then laughed bitterly.
"Great."
His voice echoed softly through the trees.
"Ek ladki ne maara… aur doosri duniya mein bhej diya."
One girl killed me and sent me to another world.
The absurdity of it almost made him laugh again.
Almost.
But then his military instincts took over.
Situation assessment:
unknown historical world
host body: exiled crown prince
immediate threats: assassins, royal enemies
asset: mysterious pendant
Objective: survive
Simple.
Clear.
Manageable.
For now.
He looked toward the distant horizon.
Beyond the forest, faint orange lights glimmered.
Campfires.
Probably the border convoy Long Wei had been travelling with.
If he remembered correctly from the memories—
The border fortress lay three days north.
That was where the exile sentence was meant to begin.
Arjun exhaled slowly.
"Fine."
If this world wanted a crown prince—
It had gotten Captain Arjun Rathore instead.
And that was a mistake for anyone who planned to kill him.
His lips curved into a cold smile.
"Ab game shuru."
Now the game begins.
He tightened his grip around the pendant and started walking toward the northern lights.
Behind him, the forest wind howled like a warning.
Ahead—
An empire waited.
A throne stolen by betrayal.
A brother who thought him dead.
And somewhere beyond fate itself—
The truth behind the pendant.
Author's Thoughts