Part 1The Brothel and the Battle

I was Prince Arthur, the Emperor’s third son and Commander of the Imperial Armies. Yet when the enemy struck, I was lounging in The Nightingale’s Nest, a common brothel, with a mute courtesan named Elara in my arms, sipping fine spirits as flames consumed the city.

In my past life, I had led the charge, breaking enemy lines until they retreated fifty miles beyond the walls—or so I believed. But it was a trap. Before I could rest, Crown Prince Lysander dragged me before the Emperor, accusing me of treason. My own soldiers, their faces twisted with rage, snarled, "You sent us to die! Our arrows were rotten—you betrayed us!"

Then came my wife, Seraphina. She presented a forged letter, denounced my "greed," and wept over our unconsummated marriage. Lysander, feigning sorrow, declared, "Brother, you sacrificed our people for the throne."

The Emperor had no choice. I was executed publicly, my corpse left to rot on the walls as Lysander took the throne and Seraphina became Empress.

Now, my eyes snap open—I’m back. Back to the day the enemy attacks.

…

“Brother Arthur, this is a rare aromatic blend from the Golden Crescent, specially procured for you. Even merely inhaling its scent is said to invigorate the body.”

Prince Lysander, a picture of geniality, prepared to hand me the wooden box, a faint, pleasant aroma already wafting from it. His smile was warm, humble. How could I have ever imagined that this man would later snatch the executioner’s blade and personally sever my limbs?

At present, Emperor Sylas was ailing, and Lysander, as the Crown Prince, was overseeing the state. He merely needed to wait, and the entire kingdom would be his. So why, in my past life, had he twisted truth into lies to frame me? Was he truly willing to sacrifice an entire city’s populace just to eliminate me?

I subtly recoiled, a slight frown creasing my brow. “My apologies, brother. After a severe injury I sustained in the borderlands, my physicians strictly warned me that I have an adverse reaction to certain exotic compounds. I fear I cannot accept His Highness’s kind offer.”

A flicker of annoyance danced in Lysander’s eyes, quickly suppressed. He lowered his gaze, feigning a bitter smile. “Forgive me, brother. I was careless.”

In the Emperor’s presence, Lysander handed the wooden box to the court physician, his expression open and earnest. “Please, Physician, examine this thoroughly for my brother’s sake!”

Lysander’s feigned slight, his air of wounded dignity, was plain for all to see. The atmosphere in the Emperor’s private chambers grew heavy with unspoken sympathy for him.

Emperor Sylas couldn’t help but scold me. “Years spent in the borderlands have made you insolent, Arthur. Lysander is your elder brother, and the heir to the throne. How dare you refuse a gift from him?”

At that moment, the court physician confirmed, “Your Majesty, this aromatic powder is crafted from precious ingredients, truly a rare and valuable item.”

Could the incense truly be harmless? Then why, in my past life, had I woken up disheveled, lying intimately with a man, bringing such disgrace upon the Imperial family that Emperor Sylas had, in his rage, stripped me of my royal title?

Lysander’s lips curled into a fleeting, triumphant smirk in my direction, then he turned, bowing respectfully to Emperor Sylas. “My brother has been away from the capital for many years, Your Majesty. It is only natural that he feels somewhat estranged from us.”

He spoke of the fading warmth between Imperial brothers, his voice growing increasingly despondent. Yet, he was the one who had recommended my posting to the borderlands, and he was the one who, just recently, had proposed my recall. What game was he playing?

As expected, Emperor Sylas’s anger flared, dissolving into a harsh fit of coughing. With an imperial decree, he commanded that I must burn Lysander’s aromatic blend upon my return to my estate.

I saw the distinct sigh of relief that Lysander couldn’t quite hide. A chill snaked down my spine. The incense had to be poisoned!

But in my previous life, my own household healer had examined it, reaching the same conclusion as this court physician.

The moment I stepped back into my mansion, Seraphina, my wife, rushed forward, flanked by her maidservants and attendants, urging me to bathe and change. “His Majesty has decreed the burning of the incense, my lord. We must hasten to obey, lest we incur the Emperor’s wrath.”

Watching Seraphina’s eager face, a cold dread settled in my heart. She already knew everything that had transpired in the palace, even before I arrived. Was she afraid a moment’s delay might spoil her evening’s cruel spectacle?