The rain had stopped. The scent of wet earth lingered in the air, mingling with the dampness that clung to the trees and the moss-covered ground.
"You are so calm," the prince's voice spoke, though he had not willed it to. His words came softer than he intended, more curious than demanding. "Don't you want to ask more?"
The unseen presence within his body answered, tone steady, detached. "I am not the type to be easily fascinated or surprised," they said, unmoved. "Nor do I act in hesitation. When I woke up, I was lying in the mud, gravely injured. Now, we are in an unknown place. Our safety comes first. Everything else can wait."
An awkward silence
"What is your name?" he asked, testing the boundaries of their conversation.
"Don't want to tell."
His body stiffened. "What...?" His voice carried an edge of irritation, and he sensed the emotions tied to it—his emotions, though he had no control over his expression. "I can feel it. You don't trust me."
The entity within him did not deny it. Instead, they countered, "Why don't you start by earning my trust?"
The prince frowned internally. "By giving you my name?"
"Yes," the voice answered, flat and indifferent. "You're from this world. I am not. That means you should be the first to give information."
A pause. "I will state my name, but not now. When we reach safety." Prince replied.
The entity chuckled, and the sound was unnatural coming from his own mouth. "Okay," they said with mock compliance. "As you wish, princess."
A sharp sting of annoyance shot through the prince. "What?"
The entity tilted his head slightly, a smirk ghosting across his lips—lips that no longer belonged to him. "Your clothes," they mused idly. "They scream nobility. But honestly, it was just a wild guess. You, on the other hand, just confirmed it."
"You tricked me," he muttered, both stunned and begrudgingly impressed.
"You let yourself be tricked," the entity corrected.
The weight of the unfamiliar body was beginning to settle in, each movement becoming more natural. The body's owner continued forward, eyes scanning for anything familiar, but the forest stretched endlessly in every direction.
Then, something caught his eye.
His gaze dropped to his waist, where a belt fastened tightly against the royal armor held a small pouch. Unlike the ornate patterns of the armor, the pouch was simple—dark, weathered leather, reinforced with red stitching. It looked old but well-maintained, as if it held something of importance.
Curious, he reached down, fingers grazing the icy surface of the pouch. A strange sensation spread from the leather to his skin—a faint, tingling chill, like frost clinging to his fingertips.
"What is this?" he muttered, tilting his head.
The voice in his mind stirred.
"That," the prince's voice echoed in their shared consciousness, "is a magic card pouch."
The body hesitated. "Magic... cards?" The words felt foreign on his tongue.
"Am I… feeling your surprise?" the prince's thoughts whispered.
The body's owner scoffed, shaking his head. "I—I am not surprised," he quickly responded, his voice firm, yet his fingers betrayed him, tightening their grip on the pouch.
"You want to see, don't you?" The prince's voice was calm, but there was a knowing amusement beneath it.
The body tensed. "I—"
"You can check," the prince encouraged, his tone softer this time.
For a moment, he hesitated. Then, with a deep breath, he unfastened the clasp, allowing the pouch to loosen. The moment he did, a thin mist of frost seeped from its opening, curling around his fingers like a living thing. His breath hitched as a shiver ran up his spine.
Carefully, he reached inside.
His fingers brushed against something smooth and rigid. When he pulled it out, a rectangular card rested in his palm. It was unlike anything he had ever seen—cold to the touch, its surface carved with delicate, glowing inscriptions. The design was intricate, almost mesmerizing, with shifting patterns of silver and blue moving like liquid beneath a glassy sheen.
"What… is this?" he whispered.
The prince, still bound within his mind, exhaled.
"A piece of power," he murmured. "A fragment of magic itself."
The body's owner stared at the card, its glow reflecting in his eyes.
For the first time since waking in this unfamiliar world, he realized—this was no ordinary place.
And he was no ordinary man anymore.
The card sat in his palm, its glassy surface shimmering under the faint light that filtered through the dense canopy above. His fingers, calloused yet steady, traced its edges, feeling the smooth, almost unnatural texture. The shifting silver inscriptions pulsed beneath his fingertips, as if alive.
Unable to resist, he brought the card closer, scratching its upper border absentmindedly.
A chuckle echoed in his mind.
"Someone just told me he doesn't get fascinated or surprised easily," the prince teased, his voice carrying a smirk that wasn't his own.
The body paused for a moment, then continued inspecting the card, completely ignoring the comment. His curiosity had already taken hold.
"What does this magic card do?" he asked, eyes fixed on the glowing patterns shifting beneath his touch.
The prince sighed, though amusement tinged his tone. "Ahhh. You do know it's a magic card. Good, you're learning," he mused. "Whoever reads the inscriptions last is considered the owner of the card. When a card is used, it vanishes—but only temporarily. It will always return to the owner's pouch. That pouch is bound to a contract, linked directly to the one who possesses it."
The body's owner hummed, intrigued. He flipped the card over, watching how the light danced across its surface. "It's shiny. It must be valuable." His lips curled into a grin. "How do we cast it?"
A new sensation surged through their shared consciousness—an unmistakable wave of excitement.
The prince, however, did not share that excitement.
"No—no, no! Don't cast it!" His voice came in a rush, filled not with anger but with sheer urgency.
The sudden reaction made the body pause. He raised an eyebrow, his grip on the card tightening.
"Why?" he asked, tilting his head.
A silence stretched between them. The prince hesitated.
"The thing is…" His voice wavered, betraying a strange reluctance.
The body's owner smirked. He could feel it—the hesitation, the embarrassment rolling off the prince in waves. He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering with an amused edge.
"Come on," he coaxed, his tone borderline mischievous. "I have your body now. I can see your 'tools' anytime I want. What's there to be embarrassed about?"
A sudden flare of indignation struck their bond.
"They are not the same!" the prince blurted out, his voice cracking ever so slightly.
The body's owner let out a sharp laugh, unable to hold it back. He hadn't expected this kind of reaction, but the way the prince's emotions surged made it all the more entertaining.
The magic card glowed faintly in his grasp, humming with untapped power.
And despite the prince's protest, his curiosity only grew stronger.
The card remained in his grip, its surface gleaming under the dim, shifting light. He traced the edges once more, waiting for an answer. Silence lingered between them, heavy and expectant.
Finally, the prince sighed, his voice carrying the weight of reluctant confession.
"The thing is… I lived a rather lavish lifestyle," he admitted, his words slow, careful. "I never had to do any work, let alone use these magic cards. My ministers gifted them to me one day. They looked so shiny that I just kept them with me. But…" His voice dipped, laced with awkwardness. "I never actually knew what they did."
A pause.
The body's owner blinked. Then, with a slow inhale, he asked, "You told me your life story, but you still haven't answered my question." His voice held an edge now—just a slight irritation seeping through.
Then, in a voice quieter than before, the prince muttered, "This makes the body explode."
"Explodes the body?" The realization struck him like a hammer. Then, as if a dam had burst, laughter erupted from his throat—soft chuckles at first, then rising into a full, unrestrained cackle. "So this is a suicide card?!" His amusement only grew, his laughter echoing through the forest.
"Please don't laugh," the prince whined, his voice teetering between embarrassment and indignation. "I was a kid before!"
The body's laughter died down to a chuckle as he wiped at his eyes, shaking his head. "Okay, okay," he conceded, still grinning. But his expression soon darkened. "By the way… were your ministers involved in your demise?"
The prince hesitated. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, "Yes. You could say they were the ones."
A dry chuckle followed. "So… just how long had they been planning to kill you? Amusing, isn't it?"
The prince flinched.
"What… what are you…" He trailed off as realization struck. His thoughts flared with newfound clarity, connecting dots he hadn't dared to before.
"The ministers wanted me to kill myself…" His thoughts echoed in horror. "With this card… as an act of a child's false choice."
The body's owner smirked, his voice dropping into something both firm and unwavering. "Don't worry. I'm here now. No one will do anything to you. I mean… to me—yeah, to me." He grinned.
And just as those words left his lips—
BOOM.
A deafening explosion thundered through the air, shaking the very ground beneath them. Leaves trembled, birds scattered in frightened shrieks, and the scent of burning earth filled the air.
Both minds fell into stunned silence.
"What was that?!" They thought in unison.
With a sharp intake of breath, the body snapped his head toward the source of the explosion. From his eyes, the prince saw it too—a towering volcano looming in the distance, its peak wreathed in a sinister, crimson cloud.
Panic surged through the prince, the sight dredging up a memory buried deep within his past.
"We have to run! NOW!" the prince's voice erupted through their shared mind, frantic, desperate.
The body didn't question it. His instincts screamed the same.
And so—they ran.