An evening in Mumbai was being enjoyed by Ram and his companion. They were smiling and enjoying the moment as they strolled down the street. Ram, who was 24 years old, worked in Mumbai. He was having a great time with his pal during the evening. Then, as a car was speeding toward them, Ram noticed a young girl crossing the street. He was aware that wealthy youths drinking and driving on Saturday nights was a typical occurrence in Mumbai. He hurried over to help the girl escape after realizing how dangerous she was. The automobile abruptly lost control, though.
Ram arrived at the girl just in time, but the uncontrollably moving car continued to speed in their direction. He had no idea what would happen in that last second, but he was certain that he had used his own strength to get to the girl. Then he was struck by the automobile. He was aware of his death. He imagined his parents' destruction, and a flood of sadness swept over him. He hoped he would get to meet them again. A persistent question, nevertheless, persisted as his consciousness waned: had he made the correct decision? He drew his last breath with that last thought.
At first, there has been nothing—simply an infinite drift, as though he had been floating among places, among moments, among eternity itself. He could not inform if he turned into asleep or awake, simply existing, shifting with out path or purpose. At times, he felt like some thing past human, some thing eternal.
Then, after an unknown stretch of time, his eyes fluttered open. The international got here into focus, revealing a ruined residence round him—small, dark, included in cobwebs, the air thick with dust. Despite its decayed state, the mansion turned into massive, sprawling throughout 10 to fifteen acres.
Through the damaged windows, he observed figures shifting outside. People. He took a deep breath, looking to regular himself. His thoughts turned into in chaos, however he compelled himself to think, to understand. Then, a consciousness struck him.
After some time, fragments of memories began to surface—pieces of a life that once belonged to the body he had now taken over. It took him an hour or so to piece them together, gradually forming a basic understanding of his new identity.
And that identity was… unique.
Whether it was a blessing or a curse, he couldn't yet say.
The body he now inhabited belonged to a prince—a prince who had already lost his claim to the throne. Among his seven brothers, he was the youngest, making him the easiest target for bullying and political schemes. Stripped of his right to inherit, he had been cast aside, exiled to this desolate estate as a casualty of the ruthless power struggles within the royal family.
Now, this abandoned place was his home. His only company consisted of a handful of unfortunate soldiers, a few maids, and the shattered remnants of his former status—nothing more than a prince in exile.
As he processed these memories, the door to his room creaked open. A young girl, around twenty years old, stepped inside, bowing slightly.
"Prince, dinner is ready. I request your presence at the table," she said softly.
The girl who entered was Nancy, the prince's personal maid. She had served him since childhood and was one of his most trusted companions.
Ram nodded and said, "Okay, Nancy. Wait for me I'll come in 10 or 15 minutes."
Nancy bowed respectfully before leaving to make the final preparations for dinner.
Left alone, he resumed sorting through his memories. He needed to understand this world, his new identity, and the dangers that came with it. The last thing he wanted was to be executed for some unknown crime—whether for being an imposter or simply for existing in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Even though he was a prince, he knew better than to take any risks in an unfamiliar world.After some time, he finally understood the full extent of the prince's situation.
Surprisingly, it wasn't as dire as he had initially feared. Coming from the modern world, he desired power—but not at the cost of his life. From the memories he had recovered, he realized just how brutal the struggle for the throne could be. The victor, the one who ultimately claimed the crown, often massacred his brothers to eliminate any threats to his rule.
In that sense, exile was a blessing in disguise. Since he had already been cast out and held no real power, he was no longer seen as a direct threat. This meant that when the next king took the throne, he might be spared simply because he was no longer relevant.
For now, that was enough. Survival came first.The place of his exile was a remote corner of the kingdom, a small region with a population of around 30,000. Though it was far from the center of power, the local administration was entirely under his control—he had soldiers, a palace, and full authority over the land.
In a way, he was the ruler of this small domain, free from the direct interference of the central government. This realization brought him unexpected satisfaction. Coming from the modern world, where he had no power at all, he now found himself in a position of significant influence. Even if it was just a small territory, it was still his to command.
The kingdom he now lived in was called Aryavan, a vast empire with a population of around 400 million, divided into 20 states. After organizing his thoughts, he made his way to the dining hall, where Nancy had ensured everything was prepared. Thanks to the memories of the previous prince, he now understood the proper dining etiquette and carried himself accordingly.
Seated with him at the table was Rohan, the Commander-in-Chief of this territory and the leader of the soldiers stationed here. Rohan was fiercely loyal—his family's devotion to the royal bloodline had lasted for generations.
Every member of the royal family was assigned a sworn protector from the Ellington family, a lifelong guardian whose duty was to ensure their safety. Rohan Ellington had taken that oath for him, dedicating his life to serving and protecting the exiled prince.