Marcus stood in his usual spot at the Royal Academy training grounds, pretending to take notes about Theodore's progress.
His notebook actually contained a grocery list and several badly drawn stick figures.
But he looked professional, and that's what mattered.
Seraphina was teaching her afternoon combat magic class.
Fire spells today. The students stood in neat rows, terrified as always.
"Controlled output is essential," she said, demonstrating a perfect flame arc.
"Magic without discipline is just expensive destruction."
Several students nodded frantically. Theodore was examining his sword grip, completely ignoring the lesson.
Classic Theodore.
The fate of the world rested on someone who found sword maintenance more interesting than his beautiful teacher.
Then Seraphina looked up. Her eyes found Marcus across the training ground.
She smiled.
Not her professional instructor smile.
Not her ice queen acknowledgment.
A real, genuine, warm smile that transformed her entire face.
Marcus's brain immediately went into panic mode.
She's just happy about the flowers.
Which were supposedly from Theodore.
Which she knows weren't from Theodore. So technically...
Mental gymnastics were exhausting.
Seraphina returned to teaching.
When she looked at her students, her expression returned to its usual professional coolness.
She corrected stances, adjusted spell forms, maintained perfect distance.
Theodore asked about the optimal angle for deflecting fire magic.
She answered with her typical precision. No smile. Just information.
But then her gaze drifted back to the observation area. Back to Marcus.
The smile returned. Smaller this time, more private. Like they were sharing a secret.
Which they were, Marcus realized.
Several secrets. The coat. The flowers.
The late-night conversations about grief and loneliness.
This is fine. She's just grateful for my emotional support.
As a friend. A completely platonic friend who happens to be beautiful and intelligent and...
"Focus on your channeling!" Seraphina called out to a distracted student.
The student wasn't the only one who needed to focus.
Marcus was staring. When had he started staring?
He looked down at his notebook. The stick figures seemed to judge him.
"Student Theodore displays excellent sword form," Seraphina announced to the class. "Though this is a magic lesson, not combat practice."
Theodore lowered his sword, looking confused about why he'd drawn it in the first place.
"Sorry, Professor. The balance felt off."
"Perhaps save your adjustments for after class?"
"Of course."
No warmth in that exchange. Just teacher and student. Professional. Distant.
Marcus looked up again. Seraphina was watching him, not Theodore. Her expression had softened in a way that made his chest feel too tight.
Oh no. Oh no no no.
"Lord Marcus, good afternoon."
Marcus nearly dropped his notebook. A young man stood beside him, still sweaty from practice, wiping his face with a towel.
Black hair, green eyes, handsome in that noble way.
Around Theodore's age. Expensive training clothes with the Blackthorn crest.
Recognition clicked. Damien Blackthorn. Theodore's rival from the novel.
"Lord Blackthorn," Marcus said carefully. "I didn't hear you approach."
"My apologies. I didn't mean to startle you." Damien's tone was respectful but friendly.
"You seemed rather focused on the training session."
Marcus's brain catalogued information rapidly.
In "Destiny's Harem Knight," Damien was supposed to be Theodore's friendly rival.
They'd compete, respect each other, eventually become allies during the demon invasion.
Standard rival-to-ally trope. Nothing special.
So why did Damien's smile feel like he knew something Marcus didn't?
"I'm observing my brother's progress," Marcus said.
"Theodore is impressive as always. His sword technique is remarkable."
Damien leaned against the railing casually. "Though I notice he pays little attention to the actual magic lessons."
"He's focused on martial combat."
"Quite single-mindedly." Damien's green eyes gleamed with something Marcus couldn't identify.
"It's refreshing, actually. Most nobles try to excel at everything."
"Theodore knows his strengths."
"He does." Damien paused.
"Professor Ashwood seems to be in a better mood lately. Have you noticed?"
Marcus's guard went up immediately. "I suppose?"
"She's usually so... distant. But recently she's been smiling more. It's nice to see."
"People change."
"They do. Usually there's a reason though."
The way Damien said it made Marcus's paranoia spike.
There was something about his tone. Too knowing. Too aware.
Is he a transmigrator?
The thought hit Marcus like lightning.
Damien wasn't supposed to be this perceptive.
In the novel, he was straightforward, honest, a bit dense about anything not combat-related.
But this Damien seemed to see everything.
No. That's crazy. I can't be the only transmigrator. The odds of that are...
Actually, what were the odds? Marcus had no idea how this worked.
"Lord Marcus?"
Marcus realized he'd been staring. "Sorry. Lost in thought."
"It happens." Damien smiled.
It seemed genuine, not mocking.
"I wanted to ask, actually. You and Professor Ashwood seem to have developed a good rapport."
"We've spoken a few times. About Theodore's education."
"Of course. Though I did notice the flowers yesterday."
Marcus froze. "Flowers?"
"The wildflowers. From Mrs. Chen's stall." Damien's expression remained friendly.
"I was having tea in the academy café. The windows have a view of that hallway."
He saw. He knows.
"Those were from Theodore," Marcus said automatically.
"Were they?" No judgment in Damien's tone. Just mild curiosity.
"That's kind of him. I didn't know he was the flower-giving type."
"He's trying to be more... considerate."
"Good for him." Damien straightened up.
"Well, I should return to training. It was good speaking with you, Lord Marcus."
"Likewise."
Damien started to walk away, then paused.
"Your brother is fortunate to have you supporting him. Not all siblings are so dedicated."
"I just want him to succeed."
"Still. It's admirable." Damien's smile turned slightly amused.
"Though you might want to be careful."
"Careful of what?"
"Sometimes when we help others, we end up in unexpected places ourselves." He gave a small bow.
"Have a pleasant afternoon, Lord Marcus."
Marcus watched him leave, his brain spinning.
That conversation had been... weird. Not obviously weird. Just slightly off.
Damien had been polite, friendly even. But there was something underneath. An awareness that didn't match his role in the story.
Is he a transmigrator?
Marcus wanted to dismiss the thought.
It was paranoid. Crazy.
Just because one person got transmigrated didn't mean others did.
But Damien had noticed things. The flowers. Seraphina's mood. Marcus himself.
The novel's Damien shouldn't be that observant.
No. I'm overthinking. He's just perceptive. Some people are naturally perceptive.
Marcus tried to convince himself. It didn't quite work.
He looked back at the training ground. Seraphina had dismissed her class.
She stood alone, organizing papers.
She glanced up. Their eyes met.
That smile again. Warm, genuine, meant only for him.
Marcus's heart did something complicated in his chest.
I'm in so much trouble.
Not just because Seraphina was looking at him instead of Theodore.
But because now there was someone watching.
Someone who seemed to understand more than he should.
Marcus tucked his notebook under his arm. His grocery list and stick figures weren't helping with anything.
The plan was falling apart. Seraphina was interested in the wrong brother.
And now there was someone who might know what Marcus was really doing.
Or worse, someone who might be playing the same game Marcus was.
I need to watch Damien Blackthorn.
Marcus left the training grounds, his mind racing.
Theodore was oblivious. Seraphina was smiling. Damien was watching.
And Marcus was trapped in the middle of it all, trying desperately to save the world while accidentally ruining everything.
"This is fine," he muttered. "Everything is completely fine."
The lie tasted bitter.
Nothing was fine. And now he had one more thing to worry about.