Six months have passed, and our preparations are finally coming together. The air in Callibean hums with festivity—not just within the palace walls, but in every corner of the kingdom. Rondolf's wedding to Princess Miolla of Soria is only a few days away, and even the most serious merchants and workers can't help but catch the joyful spirit that's spread across the land.
Surprisingly, I've adapted to life here far better than I ever thought possible. Maybe it's because I had no real attachments left to my previous life, or perhaps because this body's original owner met such an unfortunate end—his death most likely caused by the accident that brought me here. Whatever the reason, I think I'm doing a decent job of being Prince Vernom.
There are moments when I forget who I'm supposed to be, of course. I'll do things that probably violate every rule of royal protocol—like helping Cael carry heavy crates of supplies, or sitting on the ground with gardeners to learn which flowers grow best in shaded spots. But somehow, the king and the rest of the royal family seem more amused than upset by my unorthodox ways. They just smile and shake their heads, saying it's good to see the palace grounds have such a caring master.
I've been busy splitting my time between two identities: Kael the merchant's son, who travels to nearby towns to build connections and test our smuggling routes; and Prince Vernom, who attends royal meetings and helps prepare for the upcoming wedding. It's like living two separate lives, but somehow they fit together—each part teaching me something I need to know for the work ahead.
Yesterday, I spent the morning as Kael, meeting with a group of traders who'd agreed to help us move supplies into Custodian once the routes are fully secured. By afternoon, I was back in the palace as Vernom, helping Princess Elara arrange floral displays for the wedding feast—drawing on everything I've learned from tending to my own garden.
"The flowers look wonderful, Vernom," Elara said as we stood back to admire our work. "Mother would have been so proud. She always said you had a gift for making things grow."
I didn't know how to respond to that—how to tell her that while I might be tending to her mother's beloved gardens, I'm not the son she remembers. But then she placed a hand on my shoulder and smiled, and I realized that maybe it doesn't matter as much as I thought. What matters is that I'm trying to honor this life I've been given, to make something good grow from the unexpected turn fate has taken.
"Rondolf will be arriving with Princess Miolla tomorrow," Vonce said when he joined us in the gardens. "You will be traveling with me to Soria for the wedding—Father thinks it's important we show our full support for the alliance he cannot leave his post so as the crown prince and the third prince we are assigned to go there instead."
My heart skipped a beat. Traveling to Soria would mean passing close to the border with Custodian. It would be the perfect opportunity to see the land I once called home, to gather information, to even catch a glimpse of my past self if he's still out there.
"I'll need to prepare," I said, already thinking through how I could use this trip to advance our plans. "Maybe I can arrange to meet with some traders along the way—see how our routes are holding up."
Vonce nodded, his eyes knowing. "Just be careful, brother. We're entering a time of both celebration and danger. Custodian will be watching this alliance closely—and we need to make sure they see only what we want them to see."
As I walked back to my quarters to pack, I felt the familiar weight of purpose settle on my shoulders. The wedding would be a chance to strengthen our bonds with Soria, to show the world that Callibean stands for more than just power. And for me, it would be another step toward the day when I finally return to Custodian—not as a soldier, but as someone who carries the hope of a better future.
Cael practically jumps with joy when I tell him he'll be traveling with me to Soria. It's his first time going so far from home, and he's spent every moment since packing and repacking his small satchel—tucking in extra bread rolls, a piece of polished stone his sister gave him, and a notebook where he says he'll write down everything he sees.
Me and Vonce will be representing Callibean at the wedding, along with Rondolf himself. The ceremony will be held first here in Callibean, following our traditions and customs, then the newlyweds will travel back to Soria with a grand convoy to be wed again in their kingdom's way. It's a beautiful gesture of respect—honoring both cultures that will now be bound together.
Lately, Borton—the king's fourth child, born to Lady Sania, his sixth concubine—has been hanging around my quarters more and more. He's fourteen, a bit of a brat who loves to sneak past his tutors and climb trees in the palace gardens, but at heart he's a good kid. Every time I see him, a wave of nostalgia washes over me—he reminds me so much of my friend Allan back in Custodian. They're different in many ways, but they share the same bright eyes and restless energy.
Allan would be eighteen years old now, if he'd survived the sickness that swept through the slums when we were boys. I can still picture him—small and thin, but always sharing whatever little food he found, always trying to make the other kids laugh even when times were hardest. My memories of Custodian are filled with nothing but hardships and loss, and I find myself struggling to recall any moments of genuine happiness from back then.
Did I ever smile freely? Laugh until my sides hurt with my friends? Even with my fellow soldiers, I can't remember sharing more than quick nods of understanding or brief words of comfort before we headed into battle. I learned to become numb little by little—first when I lost my parents, then when Allan was taken by fever, and finally when I was shoved onto the battlefield where death felt like the only certain thing in life.
I catch Cael watching me as I sit by the garden pond, lost in thought. He sets down two cups of tea and sits beside me quietly, not pressing me to speak.
"Your Highness?" he says after a while, his voice soft. "You look sad sometimes when you think no one's watching."
I look at him, then at Borton who's currently trying to teach a young servant boy how to climb the old oak tree near the pond. The boy laughs as he loses his grip and slides down the trunk, and Borton grins, showing him how to find the right handholds.
"I was just thinking about some people I used to know," I say honestly. "Good people who didn't get to see better days."
Cael nods thoughtfully. "My sister says that when good people are gone, we have to carry their smiles for them. That way, their happiness doesn't disappear too."
I look at him, surprised by the wisdom in his words. Then I stand up and walk over to where Borton is playing. The boy looks up, his face lighting up when he sees me.
"Prince Vernom! Teach him how to climb properly—you're the best at it!"
I laugh—a real, genuine sound that feels strange and familiar all at once. As I show the boys how to find secure footholds and keep their balance, I feel something shift inside me. The numbness that's been my constant companion for so long is slowly starting to fade, replaced by the warmth of laughter and the simple joy of sharing a moment with others.
Maybe I can't bring back the people I've lost. But I can make sure that more children like Borton—and like the boy I once was—get to grow up in a world where happiness isn't just a distant memory.