THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

Darkness lingered like a thick, suffocating fog, clinging to David's consciousness. His body trembled faintly, as though caught between worlds. A faint voice pierced the void, growing louder with every passing second. It was soft yet frantic, laden with an emotion he couldn't place.

"Winter! Talk to me, are you okay?"

The voice anchored him, dragging him back from the abyss. Slowly, the haze lifted, and his eyes fluttered open to the sight of Brendah's face hovering above his. Her chestnut hair framed her pale, tear-streaked face, and her trembling hands gripped his shoulders tightly.

David blinked, his surroundings sharpening as the dim light of the room returned. His heart skipped a beat, memories flooding back—the brutal confrontation, Brendah's screams, and the torment she had endured. The ache of failure hit him like a tidal wave.

"Brendah…" he croaked, his voice rough and weak. His hand reached out instinctively, trembling as it cupped her cheek. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

Her lips quivered as she shook her head, her hands moving to steady his own. "I'm fine?!" She whispered, though her voice cracked with lingering fear. "But you… Winter, your eyes—" She hesitated, searching his face. "They turned white just before you collapsed. What happened to you?"

David froze, a flicker of realization sparking within him. His breath hitched, and without thinking, he pulled Brendah into an embrace. His arms tightened around her, as though afraid she might vanish. His vulnerability bled into his voice, raw and exposed.

"Don't leave me… please," he murmured, his head resting against her shoulder. Experience more content on empire

Brendah's wide eyes softened, and her own fears melted under the weight of his trembling plea. Her hands gently guided him back down onto the straw-filled pillow. "Shh," she said softly, brushing a lock of his white hair away from his face. "Close your eyes, Winter. You're safe now."

As she began to hum a gentle melody, her fingers combed through his hair, soothing the chaos in his mind. David exhaled shakily, his body relaxing under her touch. Yet, beneath the calm, his thoughts swirled with grim clarity.

The realization hit him like a blow: he had died. He remembered the searing pain in his chest, the system's countdown, and the final moment when his heart gave out. The system's punishment had been merciless, dragging him back to the beginning of the ordeal.

But this was something else entirely... it was Winter's pain. The desperate urge to protect Brendah had consumed him, and he had failed. Now, he was here again, back in time, and he had another chance.

As Brendah's melody lulled him, his heavy eyelids closed. His last conscious thought was a vow: I won't fail again.

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A loud bang jolted him awake, the serenity shattered.

"Get your ass up, Winter!" Delilah's gruff voice barked from the doorway. "You've got work to do. Earn your keep!"

David groaned, his body still aching, but the fire in his eyes reignited. A second chance meant everything.

David stepped out of the room, his heart pounding like a war drum. The narrow hallway felt oppressively quiet, but he moved with precision, every step calculated as he pressed his back against the wall. He waited, breathing shallowly, watching for Delilah to retreat to her office. Her gruff voice echoed faintly in the distance, barking orders at the other workers.

Not this time, he thought. I won't fail again.

The system's cruelty had carved its mark into his soul, but he wasn't about to let it dictate his actions. If outsmarting it was the only way, then so be it.

Once Delilah's heavy footsteps disappeared down the hall, David darted toward the staircase, his boots barely making a sound on the creaking wood. As he ascended to the upper floors, his mind replayed the haunting memories of what had been—Brendah's cries, Delilah's defiance, the blood-soaked aftermath. His stomach churned at the thought, but he pushed forward.

At the top of the stairs, he found a group of women bustling about, their faces painted and adorned in silks as they prepared for the evening's work. The sight of them startled David momentarily, a sharp reminder of the life they led.

"Where's Brendah?" he demanded, his voice urgent and raw.

The women exchanged uneasy glances, their movements halting as they registered his panicked state. One of them, a petite blonde with wide, cautious eyes, pointed toward the far end of the hallway.

"She's in her room," she said hesitantly.

David didn't wait for further explanation. He sprinted down the corridor, his breaths uneven as his hand found the brass handle of Brendah's door. A wave of nausea rolled over him as his memories surged back with unforgiving clarity.

The door. The screams. The blood. The system's cold demand: Kill everyone in the brothel.

His grip tightened on the handle. He knew what awaited him if he failed again—death, and worse, the knowledge that he couldn't protect her.

But a voice whispered within him, sharp and accusing: Why do you care so much for her?

David clenched his jaw, shaking the thought away. He couldn't afford doubts now.

A faint sound broke through his spiraling thoughts—sobbing.

Without hesitation, David shoved the door open, startling Brendah. She sat huddled in the corner, her body trembling as tears streaked her face.

"Brendah!" he called, rushing to her side.

Her reddened eyes widened in shock as he knelt beside her, his hands gently wiping away her tears.

"Winter…" she stammered, trying to compose herself. "What are you doing here? If Delilah finds out—"

"Forget Delilah," David interrupted, his forehead pressing lightly against hers. His voice softened, but his words carried an unyielding resolve. "We have to leave."

Brendah's breath hitched, her tears momentarily forgotten as she stared at him in disbelief.

"Leave? What are you talking about?"

David's hands gripped hers tightly. "I won't let anything happen to you," he said, his voice vulnerable yet determined. "We have to get out of here before it's too late."

Brendah's heart raced, confusion and fear warring in her eyes. But as she gazed into Winter's—no, David's—eyes, she saw something she hadn't before. One that shook her to her core.