Frankly, I hadn't come here to cause trouble or make enemies. My sole goal was to take advantage of Duke Demetrius, the man I could currently benefit the most from among the dukes in the empire.

Besides, even if I felt the original owner of this body's emotions for the first time somewhere deep inside... I don't have time to deal with him. Who am I to preoccupy myself with a mere duchy? I cannot risk destroying everything I've built for the sake of a nebulous and unpredictable revenge that isn't even truly mine.

Of course, thinking about it now, I genuinely do know a way to destroy this duchy. After rising alongside the Crown Prince and supporting him, I could somehow manipulate him into confronting Duke Demetrius. And when the Crown Prince, just like in the novel, is crowned Emperor in the not-too-distant future, he will destroy the Duchy.

This is what I would do if this were my revenge story, but fortunately, it is not. Furthermore, destroying a duchy in the Empire inevitably has terrible consequences. The other duchies would only grow stronger, and if the Emperor cannot maintain the balance of power, he could face serious trouble. Moreover, Duke Demetrius is the current Crown Prince's greatest supporter.

What I need is clear: to establish a bridge with Duke Demetrius. To win without making enemies and without becoming completely indebted to the other party. The grandeur of revenge may sound appealing, but the cold calculations of logic speak louder.

Destroying a duchy is not as heroic as it seems; it leaves behind blood, hunger, and broken alliances. My new life is not a suicide scenario decorated with the mistakes of my old life. Therefore, my plan is simple, patient as a snake, and sharp as a sword.

Duke Demetrius sits at the head of the table opposite me, a slow and measured man. His eyes reveal no emotion as they pass over me. I am searching for my advantage within this coldness; the folds of my mind are silently plotting.

Duchess Matilda is openly distant toward me. Her chin is slightly raised, the line between her eyebrows a cold reminder: this is a place I can never fully belong. Her eyes are measuring family honor, weighing my presence like a stain. These looks are irritating, but useful. Matilda is protecting herself; earning her trust is close to impossible. Demetrius first.

At the end of the table sits the night's most dangerous element: Rebecca. Her short white hair and demeanor are both graceful and menacing; her eyes are an invitation.

There is a spark between us that I've hidden until today; forbidden, silent, and scorching. As she speaks, I find my name in her voice; our glances are brief but charged. For a moment, even amidst the surrounding noise, it feels as if there are only the two of us. I have to restrain myself, because I must appear indifferent to everyone, especially her.

The dinner conversation flows. The subjects on the surface are mundane: land treaties, horse races, small favors. I ask questions, act humbly; sometimes I toss in a joke, sometimes I lend weight to my words with a familiar anecdote.

Demetrius laughs, but his laugh is a test; he is measuring my sincerity. I present myself as modest, careful not to appear overly knowledgeable. I want to walk on the same level as him, retreating just enough to allow him to feel superior.

Rebecca's occasional glances at me promise a fleeting complicity. I am cautious in my responses to her; making sure no involuntary softening appears in my voice, no unintended intimacy in my hand gestures. She knows this too; she hides the smile at the corner of her eyes. The allure of the forbidden has the power to melt even the coldest minds.

A ceremonial break is taken between conversations; the wine is finished, a new course arrives. Demetrius tells a story about an examination in his youth, and how he returned to win. The story is, in fact, advice: the unseen face of victory is patience and calculation. I listen silently, engraving every detail into my mind.

When the story is finished, I offer him a small compliment; my words are natural, my praise fresh and limited enough not to cast suspicion on me. Demetrius turns his head and looks at me; I gain another measure in that look.

As the evening progresses, the conversation becomes more personal. Memories of children, small grudges, and family matters come to the table. Julian cracks a joke; Titus scolds him.

Suddenly, Marcus speaks directly to me, asking a simple question that seems to brush away the painful scars of my youth and the shadows of the original owner. My answer is brief, clean, and human. I light his trust like a small match.

As I rise and leave the room, Duke Demetrius gives me one last brief look. Whether there is approval or not is not fully clear. Matilda's cold eyes are still on me. Rebecca pauses behind the door for a final moment; I also stop and look at her. No words, just a silent agreement forged between two people in a room.

As I step out, I promise myself: I won't rush, I won't break anyone's sword, but I won't bury every opportunity either. First, I will build a bridge. Then, when necessary, I will take the most appropriate step using that bridge.

And I end the night with a smile that promises both a reward and a trap.

As I left the room and entered the cold stone corridor, the air seemed to grow heavier; candlelight stretched the shadows on the walls, and the echo of my footsteps said more than words. Every step was a choice. Every choice had a cost. I would be the one to calculate the cost.

At the end of the corridor was a small balcony. I headed there. Outside, the garden was silent, the moon a light blanket over the city. Somewhere inside me, Leonardo's old habits stirred; he never used to be this cautious.

Now, caution is my only weapon. I quietly looked into the shadows and reviewed my plan.

The priorities were clear. Establish trust with Demetrius. Then, weaken Matilda's suspicions. Everything was like a staircase; I couldn't ascend to the next step without solidifying the one before it.

When I finally lay in my room at the end of the night, the darkness of the ceiling was a shadow above me. Plans lined up in my mind; complex connections hidden behind seemingly simple actions. I considered the first bridge to be laid.

Sleep did not come. It was replaced by an alertness and anticipation. A small chat with Demetrius was scheduled for the morning. I had to be careful with what I said at this point.

---------

The first light of morning filtered through the window curtains, bringing a thin, cold clarity to the room. Sleep had avoided me again; only exhaustion remained. On my face, as I straightened up on the edge of the bed, the decisions of the night mingled with the opportunities of the morning. It was time for the conversation with Demetrius; a coffee, a few sentences, one more test.

Footsteps descending the corridor were like the first notes of the palace's morning ritual. I did not rush dressing; the slowness of the hours protected me. I watched my own eyes in the mirror's surface; Leonardo's features were under my control.

Leonardo was a tall man with black hair and blue eyes. I could definitely say that I resembled Demetrius in some respects. Once ready, I went out and was guided by the servants to the garden.

The morning chill sharpened the scent of the soil and damp grass in the garden. Demetrius stood in the shade of a tree, holding a dark-colored drink that resembled coffee. His shoulders were relaxed, but his eyes were alert. As I approached, his gaze shifted to me; there was neither a smile nor coldness, only a measuring balance.

"Good morning, Count Argenholt."

The echo of last night's formality had faded in his voice; morning leaves people exposed.

I bowed my head slightly in return.

"Good morning, Your Grace. I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"No," he said after a brief pause.

Demetrius slowly raised his cup to his lips. After taking a sip, he spoke without taking his eyes off me.

"Was the night long?"

I replied with a small smile.

"Long, but educational. Even the order of your palace gives a man much to think about."

The duke nodded slightly.

"Order is not easily built, but it is easily broken. People often ignore that."

The implication beneath his words was clear; he was speaking not just of his home, but of the empire. I thought in silence for a few seconds, then answered carefully:

"True. What holds a structure up is often not the walls, but the small ties that bind them together."

Demetrius narrowed his eyes at me, an elusive shadow of satisfaction appearing on his face.

"It's interesting for you to say that. Most people only speak of power."

"Power is useless on its own," I said, shrugging slightly. "If obedience, loyalty did not n't accompany it, or at least a common interest, power becomes a burden to its owner."

Demetrius placed his cup on a low table nearby.

"To hear that from a man your age... is different."

I did not lower my eyes, looking directly at him.

"Perhaps it is because I am someone who has seen too many wounds."

There was a brief silence. Birds chirped, the wind rustled the leaves lightly. Without breaking his gaze, a very faint smile appeared at the corner of Demetrius's lips.

"You are different from my other children."

"That is pleasing to hear from you," I replied, lowering my voice.

Demetrius shifted his shoulders slightly, taking another small sip of his coffee.

"Most young people speak of being different but fail to learn from their mistakes. In your case, I wonder: what is your goal? Are you after the throne, or merely seeking peace?"

The Duke's question hung in the air; my words had to be carefully chosen. For a moment, the spark in Demetrius's eyes resembled the severity of his youth. One thing I had learned to survive these trials was to keep truths warm and deliver them slowly.

"Balance," I said. "And, if possible, to win without harming those I care about."

Demetrius's eyebrows lifted slightly. An expression difficult to decipher: was it approval, or a deeper suspicion? Then, unexpectedly, as if something had shifted, he relaxed his shoulders.

"Winning without causing harm is a good principle," he said. "But the real world often doesn't give you that option. Still... it's a rational approach. Well, if you had the chance, what kind of balance would you establish? With whom, and against whom?"

The question was personal; it was as obvious as a trap. My answer had to reflect not Leonardo's resentments, but a prudence that represented my rationality.

"For the continuation of the Empire, I would consider loyalty and good governance to be more important," I said briefly. "The loyalty I speak of is not blind obedience. It is a system where mutual interests function properly. No one should completely crush the other; but each must know their boundaries."

Demetrius scrutinized me. As the sun showed its face through the leaves, his lines became more defined; the maps on his face carried the decisions of his life.

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