Capítulo 4: A Shadow of Jealousy
Elian finally drifted into an uneasy sleep, but it was not a peaceful one. His dreams were plagued with images of Cedric's leering gaze and Isla's cold, calculating smile.
He awoke in the middle of the night, his heart pounding in his chest, a cold sweat clinging to his skin. The room was dark, the only light coming from the pale sliver of moonlight that filtered through the small window. But there was something else, something that made Elian's breath catch in his throat, a sound, soft and stealthy, like the rustling of fabric.
He sat up in bed, the shadows of the room pressing in on him. He could feel it, something was wrong. Very wrong
A soft creak outside his door.
His breath hitched, his blood turning to ice. He held his breath, straining to hear over the pounding of his heart.
The door to his room slowly began to open.
Before Elian could react, a hand clamped over his mouth, and he was yanked from his bed.
Panic surged through him as he struggled against his captors, but they were too strong, too many. He was dragged from his room, his muffled cries for help echoing in the empty halls. He tried to fight, to kick and claw at the hands that held him, but it was no use. They were too strong, and Elian was too weak, too terrified.
They dragged him through the manor, through dark, deserted corridors, and out into the cold night. The chill of the air bit into Elian's skin, and he shivered, more from fear than the cold. He was tossed into the back of a waiting carriage, the door slamming shut behind him. The carriage lurched forward, and Elian was thrown against the hard wooden wall. He tried to push himself up, but his hands were bound, and the fear that gripped him was paralyzing.
Time passed in a blur of terror and confusion as the carriage rumbled through the night. Elian had no idea where they were taking him, but he knew it wasn't anywhere safe. The men who had taken him were silent, their faces hidden in the darkness, but Elian could feel their malicious intent like a suffocating blanket.
Finally, the carriage came to a stop, and the door was flung open. Elian was roughly pulled out and dragged into the forest. The trees loomed above them, their branches twisting together to form a canopy that blocked out the moonlight. Elian's heart pounded in his chest as he was pushed forward, deeper into the forest. The men said nothing, but their hands were rough, their grip unyielding.
They stopped in a small clearing, the trees surrounding them like silent sentinels. Elian was shoved to the ground, his knees scraping against the cold, hard earth. He looked up, his breath coming in ragged gasps, and saw Isla step out from the shadows. She was dressed in a dark cloak, her face hidden in the shadows of the hood, but Elian could see the glint of malice in her eyes.
"Well, well," Isla said, her voice dripping with venom. "Look at you, Elian. So helpless, so pathetic. Did you really think you could come into my house, try to steal my fiancé, and get away with it?"
Elian's heart sank as he realized what this was about. "I..... I didn't," he stammered, his voice shaking. "I didn't try to steal anything. I swear, Isla, I'm not interested in Lord Cedric. I..... I didn't do anything."
Isla laughed, a cold, cruel sound that sent a shiver down Elian's spine. "You think I'm stupid, Elian? You think I didn't see the way he looked at you? The way you looked at him? You're just like your whore of a mother, always trying to take what doesn't belong to you."
Elian flinched at her words, his heart pounding in his chest. "Please, Isla," he begged, his voice breaking. "Please, I didn't do anything. I don't want anything from you or Lord Cedric. Please, just let me go."
Isla sneered down at him, her eyes cold and unforgiving. "You think I'm going to let you go? After everything? You're nothing, Elian. A bastard. A mistake. You don't deserve to live."
Elian's blood ran cold as he realized what she meant. "No," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Please, Isla, don't do this. I..... I'll leave. I'll go away and never come back. Just... just let me go. Please."
But Isla was unmoved. She turned to the men who had brought Elian to the forest, her voice cold and commanding. "Do what you were paid to do," she said. "Make sure he suffers."
The men grinned, their faces twisted with cruel anticipation. Elian's heart pounded in his chest as he looked at them, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. He tried to scramble to his feet, to run, but one of the men grabbed him by the hair and yanked him back to the ground.
"Please," Elian begged, tears streaming down his face. "Please don't do this. I'll do anything. Please."
But the men only laughed, their eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "Oh, we're going to have some fun with you, boy," one of them said, his voice low and menacing. "And when we're done, there won't be enough left of you to bury."
Elian's heart raced as he struggled against the ropes that bound his hands, but it was no use. The men were too strong, and he was too weak, too terrified. He looked up at Isla, his eyes wide with fear and desperation. "Please," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Please, Isla. Don't do this."
Isla looked down at him, her expression cold and unfeeling. "You deserve this, Elian," she said, her voice flat and emotionless. "You deserve to die."
With that, she turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the forest. Elian's heart sank as he watched her go, a cold, crushing despair settling over him. He was alone, completely and utterly alone, and there was no one to help him, no one to save him.
The men closed in around him, their eyes gleaming with malicious intent. Elian's heart pounded in his chest as he tried to think of a way out, but there was nothing. He was trapped, and there was no escape.
But then, in a moment of sheer desperation, Elian made a decision. He would not let these men take him, would not let them have their way with him. He would rather die than suffer the indignity they had planned for him.
With a sudden burst of strength, Elian broke free from the man holding him and bolted toward the edge of the clearing. He could hear the men shouting behind him, could hear their heavy footsteps pounding the ground as they chased after him, but he didn't stop. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him, his heart pounding in his chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
But the forest was dense, the trees close together, and Elian's path was blocked at every turn. He could hear the men getting closer, their laughter ringing in his ears as they taunted him, mocked him.
"Run all you want, boy," one of them called out. "You won't get far."
Elian's heart raced as he reached the edge of a cliff, the ground dropping away beneath him to reveal a rushing river far below. He skidded to a stop, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. The men were closing in, their footsteps growing louder, their voices filled with cruel anticipation.
Elian looked down at the river, the water churning and frothing as it rushed past. He knew it was a long drop, knew the chances of surviving were slim. But he also knew that he would rather take his chances with the river than with the men who were closing in on him.
With a final, desperate glance over his shoulder, Elian made his decision. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and jumped.
The wind whipped past him as he fell, the sound of the river growing louder, deafening in his ears. The last thing he heard before he hit the water was the sound of the men's laughter, echoing through the trees.
Then, everything went black.
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Capítulo 5: The Duke's Household (1)
The weight of the memories in Elian's mind was too much to take in.
As the memories of the bastard son of the Grand Duke flooded his mind, intertwining with his own memories, and he could feel the weight of the other Elian's suffering bearing down on him.
"What kind of sick game is this?" Elian muttered to himself, his voice trembling with disbelief and anger. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into the palms of his hands as he tried to make sense of the situation. "From a suffering beggar to a suffering bastard… Is this some kind of joke? Are the gods playing tricks on me?"
He let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh and grating in the stillness of the forest. He had always heard stories about reincarnation, about second chances and new beginnings, but this, this was nothing like what he had iimagined
If the gods wanted to give him a second chance, why couldn't they have put him in the body of a pampered young master, someone with wealth, power, and privilege? Instead, they had thrown him into the body of another miserable, wretched soul, someone who had suffered just as much, if not more, than he had in his previous life.
"Isn't this the real meaning of 'from the frying pan into the fire?'" Elian muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. He could still feel the lingering pain from the impact of the vehicle that had killed him, could still remember the fear and desperation that had gripped him in those final moments. But now, instead of finding peace or some semblance of a new beginning, he was thrust into another life of suffering, another existence filled with pain and despair.
Elian felt trapped, like he forced to relive the other Elian's suffering, forced to endure the same pain and heartache. It was almost too much to bear. The anger and frustration bubbled up inside him, threatening to overwhelm him. He wanted to scream, to curse the gods for their cruelty, for this twisted second chance they had given him.
But what good would it do? What good would it do to rage against the heavens, to curse his fate? He was stuck here, in this new body, in this new life, and there was nothing he could do about it. He was still Elian, the beggar who had fought so hard to survive, but now he was also Elian, the bastard son of the Grand Duke, the boy who had suffered so much and found no escape.
He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, trying to push down the anger and frustration that threatened to consume him. He had survived before. He had faced unimaginable suffering and come out on the other side. He had endured the harshness of life on the streets, the cruelty of the orphanage, the pain of losing everything he had ever cared about.
He could survive this too. He had to.
But as he sat there, the memories of both his lives swirling in his mind, he couldn't help but feel a deep, gnawing sense of hopelessness. What was the point? What was the point of all this suffering, all this pain? Was there some grand purpose to it all, some lesson he was supposed to learn? Or was it all just a cruel joke, a twisted game played by the gods for their own amusement?
Elian didn't know. He didn't have the answers. All he knew was that he was tired, tired of fighting, tired of struggling, tired of the constant pain and heartache. But even as he felt the weight of that exhaustion pressing down on him, he knew he couldn't give up. He couldn't let the darkness consume him.
He had to keep going. He had to find a way to survive, to find some meaning in this new life he had been given, even if it felt like an impossible task.
Elian closed his eyes, taking another deep breath as he tried to calm his racing thoughts. He could still feel the cold earth beneath him, the dampness seeping into his clothes, but he forced himself to focus, to push down the panic and fear that threatened to overwhelm him.
He had survived before. He could survive again.
But as he opened his eyes and looked around at the unfamiliar forest, the rushing river, the dense trees that surrounded him, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was completely and utterly alone. And for the first time in a long time, Elian felt a deep, crushing sense of despair.
Because no matter how hard he fought, no matter how much he struggled, it seemed that life, whether it was his old life or this new one, was determined to beat him down, to break him.
And he didn't know how much more he could take.
Elian ran a hand through his hair, the unfamiliar texture and length adding another layer to the disorienting experience. The clothes he wore were finer than anything he'd ever known, yet they felt heavy and constricting, like a prison. His hands, too, were different, cleaner, softer, without the grime that had marked his life on the streets.
But beneath all the confusion and fear, the grief for Buddy remained sharp and unyielding, a raw wound in his heart. The dog had been his only true companion, his one source of warmth in a world that had shown him little kindness. And now, Buddy was gone, lost forever.
Elian took a shuddering breath, trying to calm the storm inside him. Panic wouldn't help him now. He had to think, to figure out his next move. But how could he navigate this new world when he barely understood it himself?
Running a trembling hand over his face, he forced himself to stand, his legs unsteady beneath him. The riverbank stretched out before him, both familiar and alien. He recognized the landscape, but it all felt so distant, like a dream fading away.
He could try to escape this life that wasn't his, but where would he go? What would he do? He knew nothing of this world beyond the fragmented memories that had been forced upon him.
No, running wasn't an option. If he was going to survive, he needed to adapt, to learn the rules of this new reality, and find a way to make it work for him. He would need to be cunning, careful, and above all, patient.
The thought of returning to the grand estate, to face the people who scorned him, filled him with dread. But he had no choice. This was his life now, and he would have to find a way to live it on his terms.
With a resolve born of years of hardship, Elian straightened his unfamiliar shoulders and began to walk. The path ahead was uncertain, filled with dangers he couldn't yet see, but he would face it head-on. He had survived worse, and he would survive this too.
---
Elian clenched his fists inside his pockets, his knuckles straining against the fabric as he get closer to the Duke's estate.
Every step he took, was an ominous reminder of the role he was about to play. How was he supposed to survive against something he didn't even fully understand?
He stopped just before the entrance, taking a moment to compose himself. His heart pounded in his chest, and his mind was a whirlwind of emotions, fear, frustration. But he had to push it all down, had to hide it beneath the surface. The last thing he needed was to show any weakness.
Elian took deep breath, forcing his thoughts into some semblance of order. He couldn't afford to lose control, not now. He had to keep his emotions in check, had to maintain his facade.
This was his life now. This was his battle. And he would fight it with everything he had.
But inside, the storm continued to rage, panic clawing at his chest and frustration tightening around his throat. Fear gnawed at the edges of his thoughts, threatening to overwhelm him, and he struggled to keep himself from unraveling completely.
When he pushed open the heavy front doors, he couldn't believe his eyes.
Elian breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening as he froze in place.
The scene before him twisted his stomach, sending a cold shiver down his spine. He could barely process it, his mind reeling as the only thought that surfaced was, "What the hell..."
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