The second son of Duke Darvin Leon Vyavan.
Head to the most powerful dukedom in the Krivos Kingdom.
A kingdom founded by one of the legendary otherworlders.
Yet despite his noble bloodline, Asher's life was far from ideal.
Asher wasn't the child born from the head wife.
No one knew who his mother was.
One day, Duke Darvin returned from war, bringing Asher to the Krivos Kingdom and declaring him his son.
'That's all I could gather from talking with Zia.'
Akamir frowned, staring at his reflection in the mirror.
Behind him, Zia adjusted the luxurious, oversized coat over his traditional attire.
She stepped back, bowing towards him. "You look great, young master."
Akamir merely nodded, gathering his long wheat-blonde hair and tying it into a high ponytail.
As he glanced back at his reflection, Akamir felt weird.
'Who gets dressed up to watch their brother's execution?'
He couldn't bring himself to ask Zia about it—whether it was tradition or something else entirely.
Keeping his cover was more important.
Zia opened the door, leading him out of the room.
Akamir followed behind her, still lost in his thoughts.
He wasn't sure what to do next.
'Should I act like I have lost my memories?'
He quickly dismissed the idea.
His body felt weak but uninjured—no scars, no signs of struggle.
It painfully reminded him how feminine his body looked.
'I should quickly find a way to get my body better.'
Akamir had already planned out his next move, and getting stronger was his priority.
No matter what world, individual strength is something that will always help him.
"Please don't do anything stupid, young master."
A sudden comment from Zia made him look at her.
He quietly asked, "What do you mean?"
She hesitated before whispering, "Don't make things worse. And for the love of Goddess Morana, don't provoke Princess Inara."
Akamir nodded his head quietly.
Princess Inara—the woman Asher had been obsessed with before Akamir took over.
Even worse, she was his brother's fiancée.
"Let Sir Darvin handle the situation," Zia continued, leading him through a garden. "He'll bargain for Sir Morris's life."
'So that's why we're getting dressed up?'
Things began to make more sense.
As long as they could pay the appropriate price, his brother's life might be spared.
'But how much would the life of a crown prince be?'
That was something Akamir was interested to know.
Zia guided him further into the garden, eventually stopping at a secluded spot.
A faint disturbance in the air caught his attention.
Just a few steps ahead of him was an enormous blue portal that let out a faint shockwave.
'Is that... a natural wormhole?'
Akamir wondered, studying the portal as he walked closer.
Back in his world, wormholes were a common source of travel.
But they were all artificially made, unlike the one present in front of him.
'How is this even stable?'
Before he could ponder further, his gaze landed on a man.
His body instinctively tensed at the sight of the tall man.
The man stood with his back to Akamir, his long, midnight-blue hair cascading down like a river of ink.
He wore a dark coat with silver accents, the high collar partially concealing his neck.
Even from behind, his presence was formidable.
Akamir couldn't tell if the man rivaled his peak strength, but he was definitely formidable.
Sensing Akamir's presence, the man turned, revealing sharp, angular features and a calm, indifferent expression.
Akamir lowered his head slightly. "I apologize."
The man—Duke Darvin—just gave a curt nod. However, the woman beside him scoffed.
"Why can't you do anything on time!" she snapped, glaring at him.
Akamir looked at her.
The woman was beautiful, with striking emerald eyes and wavy auburn hair that fell elegantly over her shoulders.
She wore an exquisite gown, embroidered with golden patterns.
Her gaze was sharp, cutting through him with disdain.
Akamir instantly knew who she was—Lady Verona Leon Vyavan, the Duke's primary wife and the mother of Morris, the one sentenced to execution.
"It won't happen again," Akamir said, keeping his tone as respectful as possible.
He didn't want to attract her ire more than necessary.
"Hmph." Verona folded her arms, still glaring at him. "You're nothing but a nuisance—always trailing behind like a stray dog."
Akamir's expression turned cold as he stared dead into her eyes.
It had been a long time since anyone dared to speak to him that way, and it took every ounce of willpower not to snap back.
Akamir concluded, forcing himself to stay calm.
Being a king, Akamir always believed people could redeem themselves.
So, in order to be a just king, he always gave everyone three chances.
'Two more and she will die.'
"We are moving," Darvin said, looking at both of them. "Don't do anything embarrassing, Asher."
Akamir nodded softly.
Darvin was the first to step into the portal, followed closely by Verona.
Akamir hesitated, staring at the swirling blue mass.
For a moment, doubt gnawed at him.
"Young master?" Zia's gentle voice pulled him from his thoughts. "Is something wrong?"
He took a deep breath, shaking off the unease. "Nothing."
With his eyes closed, he stepped through the portal.
An intense, crawling sensation prickled over his skin—like countless bugs skittering beneath his flesh.
Thankfully, it vanished in the next instant.
When Akamir opened his eyes, he found himself in a dimly lit, bunker-like room, illuminated only by a few flickering lamps.
A knight stood by the door, bowing as Darvin approached.
"Lead the way," Darvin commanded.
Akamir hurried to catch up, noticing how composed Darvin remained despite his son's life hanging in the balance.
The knight guided them out of the bunker, emerging into an open garden.
Akamir didn't even have time to explore the place as they moved in a hurry.
After a brief walk, they passed an enormous palace and arrived at the execution grounds at the front of the palace.
The execution grounds were nothing like Akamir had imagined.
Instead of a grim, dark setting, it was an ornate courtyard surrounded by high stone walls.
The platform at the center was adorned with crimson banners emblazoned with the royal crest—a crowned lion holding a sword.
Nobles and soldiers gathered around, murmuring among themselves.
Morris—Akamir's brother—was already on his knees at the platform's center.
His face was concealed by a ragged cloth, hands bound behind his back.
The executioner loomed over him, axe in hand.
Akamir's gaze swept over the crowd.
Most of the people wore expressions of contempt or indifference.
He noted a few familiar faces from the fragmented memories of Asher.
Placing his hand on his chest, Darvin whispered, "Stay here."
Darvin stopped a few paces ahead, standing right in front of the platform, and Verona stood by his side, staring at her son pitifully.
There was a sudden blare of trumpets, and the crowd fell silent as the royal guards marched onto the platform.
A man clad in ornate armor stepped forward, his voice booming across the courtyard.
"Presenting His Majesty, King Aldric Var Krivos!"
The next instance, on the forefront balcony of the palace.
Nobles bowed their heads in his presence.
Akamir couldn't believe what he saw.
Aldric wasn't imposing; instead, he was abnormally fat, his golden hair streaked with silver.
With a lazy expression, he sat down on a chair provided to him.
"Morris Leon Vyavan, you stand accused of high treason against the throne."
Aldric's voice boomed even though he sat quite far away.
"Your heinous plot to overthrow the royal family and seize power has been brought to light. Do you deny these charges?"
Only the muffled sound of Morris came back.
'They gagged him... he can't even speak in his defense,' Akamir thought grimly.
Aldric sneered, his tone dripping with contempt. "It seems you've accepted your fate."
The executioner gripped Morris's head, forcing it onto the curved chopping block.
Two knights moved forward, holding him in place.
Before the executioner could raise his axe, Darvin stepped forward.
"Your Majesty," he spoke calmly, his deep voice resonating through the courtyard. "As the boy's father, I humbly request the right to negotiate for his life."
The king turned his gaze to Darvin, his expression unreadable. "And what would you offer in exchange for sparing the life of a traitor?"
Darvin took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully.
"The complete mobilization of Vyavan forces to secure the northern borders and a vow of loyalty without question. I will personally take responsibility for my son's actions."
Aldric seemed to mull over the offer, his gaze shifting between Darvin and the kneeling Morris.
"Not enough," the king finally said, his tone icy. "I don't want to see the killer of my son living happily."
Darvin drew in another deep breath, as if finding it hard to speak further.
A flicker of pain crossed Darvin's face. Clenching his fist, he forced himself to continue.
"Then... I will exile him to the Death Maiden's Forest. He will live out his days there—alone."
A stunned silence lingered within the courtyard.
No one spoke, as if Darvin's proposal itself was a curse.
King Aldric remained silent for a long moment before speaking. "That's a fitting punishment."
Everyone let out a sigh.
They all were aware that Morris wouldn't die, and that's exactly what happened.
The courtyard froze as Aldric continued, his lips curving into a malicious grin.
Suddenly, a glowing barrier enveloped Darvin and Verona, locking them in place.
Aldric grinned. No—he was laughing.
"I WILL KILL YOU IF YOU TOUCH HIM!" Darvin's voice boomed, raw with fury and desperation.
Aldric ignored him entirely. "Bring me his head."
The executioner lifted his axe, and with one brutal swing—