A man—lost in a sea of white—sinks into the cushions of a sofa, surrounded by an endless expanse. No walls, no ceiling, just the echo of his chewing... and that absurd television droning on somewhere far off.
What on earth is this kid up to?
Initially, it was amusing. Watching him float through his memories, piecing together fragments of a world that's long since faded. Those quirky habits, the odd comforts he clings to—like a lifeline. He revisits certain moments, over and over, as if somehow, by sheer will, he could smooth out the jagged edges of time.
But now? It's just a loop.
Day in, day out, the same dance. He either buries himself in plans, dissecting futures that haven't even knocked on the door yet—or he retreats into this space, indulging in echoes of the past. The lines between reminiscing and observing his mundane life are starting to blur, like watercolor bleeding into itself.
And yet… I can't really fault him.
I've seen the cracks beneath his surface. The fractures he refuses to confront. These little indulgences? They're not mere laziness—they're a kind of maintenance, a way to keep the gears from grinding to a halt.
Still...
Maybe I picked the wrong soul to accompany.
Once this boy truly gets to work—when he finally commits—there will be no turning back. No breaks. No indulgences. He'll zero in, laser-focused, burning through whatever obstacles stand in his way. I've glimpsed his plans; they're not idle daydreams. They're meticulous, layered with contingencies like a well-crafted heist.
Watching him? It's not unpleasant. In fact, it's got potential.
But being stuck in this white void while he unwinds is... excruciatingly dull.
I should really ask him to let me take form—just a spirit form would do. Roaming freely would be a welcome change from this endless cycle of crunching and a screen replaying a civilization that's crumbled into mere memory.
Yes.
When he finally wakes up—when his mind finds its footing—I'll bring it up.
For now... I guess I'll just have to endure this incessant sound of chewing.
---------
I go by Adi—just a name, a label that this mortal world has bestowed upon me, and I keep it for the sake of simplicity.
What am I, you ask? Well, I'm one of only seven beings like me in this vast expanse of existence. The oldest, no less.
The early centuries of my life? A blur—like a fog that rolled in and swallowed everything whole. Did they slip away on their own, or did time itself strip them from me? I can't say. But I do remember the first time I encountered another of my kind. They now dwell in the east.
For ages, I drifted—just wandering, really. Observing the world, sometimes stepping in when the moment felt right. I lent a hand to mortals when it suited my whims, watching civilizations rise, crumble, and disappear like sandcastles washed away by the tide.
Then, everything shifted with the arrival of the seventh being.
Seven—enough to tip the scales. More than enough.
Each new entity threw the world into disarray. So, we reached a consensus—no eighth would emerge. After that, I hung up my traveling boots, settled in this subcontinent, and fell into a deep slumber for what felt like an eternity.
Fast forward about two thousand years, and a surge of mana jolted me awake, rippling through the fabric of reality.
I resumed my travels, slipping into the skins of animals and humans, hopping from one host to another, soaking in the changes that had unfolded during my long absence.
Then, about fifteen hundred years ago, mortals ignited a war so fierce that we had no choice but to intervene. If we hadn't, the world might have spiraled into a dark age—can you imagine?
Once that chaos settled, I sought stillness again. I nestled over three major mana zones present here and drifted into another lengthy sleep, soaking in their energies.
But then, a few years back, something unusual tugged at my senses.
A human soul—reincarnated, intact. Memories intact. Soul unscathed.
Just like the last two.
Those previous souls had nearly brought the world to its knees. My instinct screamed to snuff this one out while he was still a babe.
But I hesitated.
An old habit, I suppose.
I peered into his memories first.
Fortunately for him, his past was a far cry from the previous two. Those souls hailed from what this boy would consider, the Classical and Medieval eras—bound by strict hierarchies and harsh realities.
This boy? He came from a realm so distant, so alien, that even I struggled to grasp it. The sheer scale of his technology, the rapid-fire thoughts, the contradictions woven into the fabric of his existence—it was all... captivating.
So, I spared him.
Initially, I kept my distance, merely watching.
But, oh, the itch to get closer grew unbearable. I decided to walk alongside him instead. To do that, I needed to delve deeper into his psyche—understand him well enough that he'd welcome my presence rather than recoil.
Easier said than done.
This child bears deep mental scars—not the loud, dramatic kind, but the quiet, insidious sort. They lurk beneath his competence and routine.
I had to tread lightly through his memories; one misstep, and he might sense my presence.
Though I achieved my goal.
What I uncovered only deepened the mystery.
How can he act in certain ways yet insist he's different from them?
He and his male friends from his past life share a bond that, in this world, would raise eyebrows. Yet they're married, and he brushes off any implications without a second thought.
He claims he's indifferent to others' opinions, yet he bends over backward to avoid inconveniencing anyone. He insists he doesn't care about perception, yet he curates his presence with almost obsessive precision.
Mortals—strange creatures, indeed.
As these thoughts settled in my mind, I felt it—a shift.
Oh.
He's waking up.
"Well," I murmured to myself, leaning back in the endless white void, "this should be a wild ride."
____________
Hamsa's Chambers
Hamsa opened his eyes in the dead of night.
The room was dim, lit only by faint moonlight slipping through the lattice and the distant glow of the Royal District. It was quiet enough that he could hear crickets outside and the soft rustling of winter leaves in the breeze.
He blinked once.
Then he noticed something.
His pillow felt… different.
Softer. Warmer.
He lifted a hand and pressed against it.
Not a pillow.
He slowly looked up.
Mahadevi Bhadra was seated upright, asleep — and his head was resting on her lap.
WHAT THE HELL?!
He screamed internally.
Very carefully, he lifted himself off her lap and slid away from the bed, making sure not to wake her.
Hey kid. You're finally up.
Adi.
Hamsa felt immediate relief at the familiar voice.
Tell me why she's here. And what the hell did I do these past few days? I don't remember anything.
Adi paused, as though deciding how blunt to be.
Long story short, he began, your mental state regressed. You were functioning like a child. You demanded things from your old world. When you couldn't have them, you became increasingly agitated. Then, while she was busy with the festival, it escalated.
Another pause.
You almost went ballistic. She arrived just in time. As for the rest… I'll spare you the details. You can imagine them well enough.
"Kill me now," Hamsa muttered under his breath.
There's no point dwelling on it. Look at the bright side — your body has fully adjusted to my presence. All that remains is for our mana to synchronize.
Shut up! That does not make up for the embarrassment I'm feeling right now.
Adi sighed.
Well. Are you going back to sleep? If not, I'd like to discuss something.
I'm not sleeping after this. Give me a minute.
He slipped quietly out of the chamber so as not to wake his mother. He informed the guards and the maid stationed outside that he was going for air, then headed downstairs toward the kitchens.
As he walked through the dim corridors, he continued speaking with Adi in his mind.
So. What do you want to talk about?
I want you to allow me a spiritual body, Adi said plainly. A projection. So I can move around independently.
Why?
Because watching your memories and daily routine is getting repetitive and boring. I want to explore on my own. I will still remain connected to you — this would merely be a projection I control.
Like a hologram?
Yes. Something similar.
Hamsa considered it.
…Fine. I don't mind. But no causing trouble. Nothing that inconveniences me. If you do, you're back to being stuck in my head. And you come back instantly when I call.
Agreed. Once our mana synchronizes, I'll make it happen.
By then, Hamsa had reached the kitchens. The staff on night duty stared at him in surprise, but he waved them off and grabbed some fruit and juice.
He made his way to the open seating area between the Palace and the Royal Residence, sat down, and began eating.
That aside, anything important happen?
Well. You've been pledged in marriage between Valangar and the Parthian royal family.
Hamsa paused mid-bite.
…So I won't die a virgin again. Good. Who's the girl?
From what I gathered, she is the first princess and the daughter of who essentially is their Mahadvei. And on a side note, she's held in high regard by your mother.
Is that so? Then she must be exceptional. Mother doesn't praise easily.
Don't get too excited. From the conversation I overheard, it seems she had very little choice in the matter.
Well, that's expected. Given the distance and politics. All I hope for is a decent relationship. It's an obligation. And I highly doubt she'll fall for a forty-something-year-old mind in a ten-year-old body. Combined with my personality? Yes. Not happening.
Damn, kid. Have a little hope.
Anything else? Hamsa ignored the remark.
Adi's tone shifted slightly.
Yes. This one is more immediate.
You remember how I told you I was absorbing mana from the Great Mana Dead Zone?
Yes.
So they noticed hah?
They have. The zone had gone from vanishing to stabilizing faster than projected. And they know you were there.
…So they suspect I did something.
Yes.
Hamsa leaned back, chewing thoughtfully.
If it comes down to it, I'll lie. Say I slew some creature there and it triggered a change. Though I'll think of something convincing later. But what exactly is happening to it?
The same as the other two zones. It's becoming stable. In a few years — perhaps a decade — it will be partially livable. More then that, it will become a resource hotspot.
Hamsa went quiet.
…That will mean war.
Then, more softly:
And opportunity.
Adi did not like the tone.
I don't like the way you said that last part.
Hamsa smirked at Adi's remark, though he didn't respond to it directly. The conversation continued as he finished eating. They went back and forth over details — what needed to be handled soon, what could wait, how certain matters might unfold if pushed.
By the time they had covered what needed discussing, the sky had begun to lighten. Dawn crept over the palace roofs, and the Royal District slowly stirred to life. Servants moved through the corridors, guards rotated shifts, and the quiet of night gave way to the low hum of morning activity.
A servant approached him and bowed.
"What is it?" Hamsa asked.
"Rajkumar, you are being summoned for breakfast," she said.
"By whom?"
"The Raja."
"Very well. I will attend once I have bathed and changed into fresh clothes," Hamsa replied as he rose from his seat and began walking back toward the Royal Residence.
As the maid followed a few steps behind, he asked without turning,
"Is Mother still asleep?"
"Yes, Rajkumar," she answered. "The Mahadevi spent most of her time with you yesterday. She may sleep in today."
"Is that so…" he murmured.
After a brief pause, he added, "Prepare a bath for me in the ground-floor bathhouse."
"As you command, Rajkumar," the maid said before moving ahead to see it done.
Hamsa took a slight detour toward the baths. The corridors were already warmer now, sunlight beginning to replace the lantern glow.
He bathed quickly, letting the cold water clear the remnants of embarrassment and lingering fatigue from his mind. Once finished, he dressed in a fresh set of clothes suitable for a formal morning meal.
Without further delay, he made his way toward the common room where the Raja awaited.
_____
In the common room, the Raja was already seated when Hamsa arrived.
It was their usual routine. The Raja and Mahadevi rose earliest, ate, and began their duties. The Rajkumars followed later before heading to their own responsibilities.
Hamsa entered and bowed his head slightly.
"Good morning, Father."
"Good morning, son," the Raja replied. "How are you feeling? I heard you were awake since the middle of the night. And are you well enough to be walking around?"
"I am fine, Father," Hamsa said as he took the seat opposite him. He glanced briefly at his hand, where faint mana still pulsed unevenly beneath the skin. "Physically, I am fine. I simply cannot use my mana the way I usually do. That is all."
"That is reassuring," the Raja said.
As they talked, the servants entered quietly, setting the morning meal before them. After offering prayers, they began to eat. The conversation paused until the plates were cleared and they were left alone again.
"Hamsa," the Raja said at last.
"Yes, Father."
"There has been a marriage proposal for you. The first princess of the Parthian Empire. Shirin"
Hamsa did not react outwardly.
"If you deem it necessary, I have no objections," he said evenly. "Though may I ask why? It is unusual to propose marriage before the Yuvraj is declared. And it seems sudden. From what I understand, Parthians have trade complications. That alone would not warrant offering their first princess."
He already knew the broad outline. Adi had informed him, and Gopal had filled in what he could access. Still, he asked.
The Raja exhaled slowly.
"Your mother predicted you would question it," he said. "Their western borders are unstable. They seek a non-aggression pact and defensive support against threats from the east and the northern steppes. In exchange, they offer Princess Shirin's hand. It is less about trade and more about security."
He then explained the rest in detail — the military pressures, the urgency in the Grand Visier's tone, the political implications.
"I see," Hamsa said once the explanation was complete. "Regardless of the reason, I will agree."
He paused, then added, "There is something else, if I may."
"You may."
Hamsa took a measured breath.
"With this arrangement… is it safe to conclude that I will be coronated as Yuvraj?"
The Raja did not answer immediately.
"There is no point withholding it now," he said finally. "Yes. You will inherit the throne."
He leaned back slightly.
"It was part of the quiet terms that ended the war with the Rangas. At first, it was conditional — dependent on certain political alignments and you. But when your biological mother, Savithri, passed during your birth, the matter shifted. It became more certain."
He continued, his tone steady.
"After you awakened at five years old, it was effectively sealed. You will inherit both this throne and the Ranga throne as well."
Hamsa absorbed the information without visible reaction.
"Well," he muttered quietly, "that tracks."