Overlord: Wrong World, Can I Change It?

POV: Jircniv

Being Crown Prince of the Baharuth Empire is nothing like being a normal child. There are no games in the gardens, and no loud friends. My days are filled with endless lessons and adults who smile too much and speak too carefully. Everything is designed to remind me that I am special, but all it truly does is make me feel apart from everyone else.

Today is my fifth birthday. The court celebrates, or at least pretends to. The smiles are stiff, the voices a little too formal. No one looks genuinely happy, not even my mother, who is beautiful and strict, with smiles as rare as summer rain in the desert. After the morning ceremony, she gathers me onto her lap, her fingers light on my shoulder.

"An emperor must not only listen. He must see. Beyond words, beyond faces," she says quietly, her eyes steady on mine.

I nod, just as I have been taught. Here, nodding is safer than asking questions. I've learned that sometimes, understanding is less important than appearing to understand. I suspect even the adults live by that rule.

All around me, the adults move with careful steps and careful words. Each one tries to be noticed, but not too much. Every glance carries a secret message, every gesture a double meaning. It's like living inside a puzzle no one is allowed to solve.

The Grand Advisor approaches with a gift, his beard neat and his eyes always tired. "For Your Highness, a tome on the Great Wars of the Empire."

It is another heavy book, bound in leather. I open it as if it might bite me, but all I find is the scent of dust and a feeling I can only describe as loneliness. My fingers linger on the words "betrayal," "honor," and "alliance." I wonder if anyone truly believes in these things, or if they are just words for speeches.

I smile at him, because that's what emperors do. But my fingers curl around the heavy book, and in my mind I slip through the palace gates, vanish into the market, and nobody knows I am a prince. It's a skill I am learning fast: how to smile without feeling much at all.

Sometimes I think of my father. I see him less and less each month. They always say he is busy, that I will understand one day. I hear his voice echoing down the stone corridors, sharp and commanding, as if he is talking to someone who has disappointed him. I wonder if he is ever disappointed in me.

My mother reads to me every evening, though not the stories I would choose. She speaks of the Six Great Gods, of justice and fate and sacrifice. I listen carefully and try to look interested. What I really want are stories about dragons, or heroes, or traveling bards, but those are for commoners, she says. Princes need to learn the burdens of destiny, not the freedom of adventure.

This morning, I saw one of the servant girls crying quietly in a hallway. She thought no one was watching, but I see everything. That is my secret. I learn in silence, noticing things the adults forget. I wondered if she missed her family. I almost asked, but then a house guard walked by and I swallowed the question.

After lunch, I was sent to my private garden, escorted by three guards and the head steward. There, I was told I could "play." The word felt strange, as if they did not really believe it belonged in the palace. The garden was beautiful and empty, with perfectly trimmed hedges and polished marble benches. I wandered the paths for a while, trying to imagine I was somewhere else, maybe a distant border town or a market square. I picked up a fallen leaf, golden and crisp, and held it up to the sunlight, pretending it was a dragon's scale. For a moment, I almost felt like a child.

When I passed by one of the tall glass windows, I caught my own reflection, a little boy in ceremonial clothes, looking out at a world that felt so close and so impossibly far. Sometimes I press my hand against the glass, half hoping the reflection will move on its own, step out, and trade places with some other child running free beneath the towers of Arwintar. But the boy in the window only looks back at me, a ghost in glass, wearing the same stiff smile I practice for everyone else.

Back inside, lessons resumed. My tutor, thin and sharp as a dagger, tutored me in the old languages. This afternoon's lesson was an ancient emperor's speech, filled with talk of patience, strength, and ruling without fear. Partway through, he paused and asked, "How does one earn the people's respect, Your Highness?"

I said, "By making sure no one sees your fear."

He smiled, a flicker of pride or maybe sadness in his eyes.

Later, I was summoned to the council chamber, not to speak, but to watch and listen. The ministers and nobles discussed matters of grain and taxes, war and treaties. Their words twisted like smoke, each sentence carefully balanced. I sat quietly on a high-backed chair, feet not touching the floor, watching faces for signs of truth or falsehood. When they remembered I was there, they would bow and speak in flowery language. Sometimes I caught them stealing glances, measuring me up like a problem they would one day have to solve.

That evening, after dinner, I escaped to my room with the new book about the Great Wars. I hid under my blanket and read by candlelight. I did not understand all the words, but some stood out: betrayal, alliance, honor, and fate. I tried to imagine what it would be like to choose adventure instead of duty, and to disappear into the city.

Before sleep, I went again to the window, pressing my forehead to the cool glass. Arwintar stretched below in a sea of golden lights, and somewhere in the dark, laughter echoed, real, careless laughter...

One day, I tell myself, I will not be just a spectator. One day, it will be my turn to move the pieces on this grand board.

For now, my game is to watch, to listen, and to learn. I practice my smile in the mirror and remind myself that every king starts as someone who watches from the shadows. The throne is waiting, and even if no one says it aloud, I am already preparing to play.

Tonight, I dream not of gods or empires, but of open roads and starlight. In the morning, I will be the emperor's son again. But for now, I am just a boy.

And one day, I will be the emperor.