The palace was quiet, but Ethan knew silence was a lie. It wasn't safety—it was a trick, a carefully maintained illusion, hiding whispers in the dark.
Dressed in a simple nightgown, he sat at the edge of the massive bed, hands steepled, mind racing. He had spent hours piecing things together. The assassination attempt wasn't meant for Antoinette—it was meant for him, Ethan Perez. Somehow, he had ended up here instead.
That meant two things, whoever ordered the hit on him in 2024 succeeded and someone in this world might know about him.
That second thought bothered him more than anything. His death should've been the end of the story. Instead, he had woken up in the body of a forgotten princess in a completely different time and place. That wasn't a coincidence.
Someone had wanted him dead. And now, someone wanted Antoinette Versailles out of the way. He needed answers. And he wasn't going to find them locked up in this damn room.
His first escape attempt—smashing a window and running blindly—had been reckless. This time, he needed to be smarter. Invisible.
His eyes flicked to the heavy wooden door. He could hear the faint shuffle of feet outside—likely a night staff member making their rounds. He moved quickly, grabbing the heavy silver water pitcher from his bedside table and positioning himself beside the door.
He knocked lightly. A few seconds later, the handle turned. The moment the door cracked open, he swung the pitcher with practiced precision, smashing it against the figure's head. The man grunted, stumbling back before collapsing unconscious.
Ethan crouched, checking his pulse. Still breathing.
"Sorry, pal. Wrong place, wrong time."
He quickly stripped the man of his palace staff uniform—a simple brown tunic and trousers, loose enough to hide his figure. He wrapped a cloth around his face, leaving only his eyes visible.
He was no longer Princess Antoinette. Just another palace worker on a late-night errand.
The corridors were mostly empty, save for the occasional servant or night guard. He walked with purpose, keeping his head down. Confidence was key. People rarely questioned someone who looked like they belonged.
A pair of guards passed him without a second glance. Too easy.
Slipping through a side passage, he exited into the palace courtyard, where deliveries were made early in the morning. A cart loaded with sacks of grain stood by the gates. Without hesitation, Ethan climbed into the back, covering himself with burlap sacks just as the cart started rolling.
The moment they passed through the outer gates, Ethan rolled off the cart, landing softly on cobbled streets. He straightened his disguise, adjusting the cloth over his face, and melted into the crowd.
Now, for the real work.
The further he walked, the more the streets changed. The smooth cobblestones gave way to rougher, uneven paths. The grand buildings faded into shadowy alleys, where the real conversations happened.
He found a tavern with a cracked wooden sign, dimly lit and tucked away from the main road. A place for secrets and whispers, exactly what he needed.
Inside, the air was thick with the smell of ale and smoke. Men huddled in corners, exchanging hushed words. A few women—likely spies or thieves—watched for easy marks.
Ethan moved to the bar, keeping his voice low. "Anything interesting happening in the palace lately?"
The bartender, an older man with a scar across his chin, snorted. "Depends on who's askin'."
Ethan slid a coin across the counter. The bartender pocketed it. "People say the king's favorite is in trouble. The 4th Princess."
Ethan's grip tightened on the counter. So Antoinette—or rather, he—was already a hot topic.
"She in danger?" he asked.
The bartender shrugged. "Some say she won't last much longer. Others say she's being tested."
Ethan frowned. Tested?
Before he could press further, a conversation at the nearby table caught his attention.
"…Trial's just for show. Everyone knows who's getting the throne."
"Still, gotta make it look fair, right?"
Ethan's pulse quickened. A trial?
He turned toward the men speaking. Roughly dressed, but not commoners. Soldiers? Palace guards?
His instincts told him not to ask directly, so he kept listening.
"Doesn't matter what she does," one of them muttered. "They'll make sure she fails. The real game's already been decided."
Ethan's stomach twisted. A rigged trial. A game he wasn't even aware of.
So that's their plan? They don't need to kill Antoinette—just make sure she never wins.
He clenched his fists. Not happening. Not this time.
Ethan had two key takeaways, there was some kind of trial for succession, and it was rigged against him. Second, people in the kingdom already assumed he would lose.
He needed more than just rumors. He needed a way to gather information consistently.
Standing, he turned back to the bartender. "Where can I hire someone who knows things?"
The bartender chuckled. "You want an informant?"
Ethan flicked another coin onto the counter. "The best one."
The bartender studied him for a moment before jerking his head toward the back door. "Go down that alley. Look for a woman named Raven. She's got the sharpest ears in this kingdom."
Ethan gave a small nod and slipped out the back door.
As he walked toward the alley, his mind raced.
He still didn't have all the answers. He didn't know the full details of the trial. He didn't know who rigged it or why. And he still didn't know how his past life's assassination connected to this world.
But now? He had a lead. He had a name. And soon, he'd have the information he needed to strike first.
They thought they could play him. They had no idea who they were up against.