After dinner, Richard remained seated at the table for several more minutes, staring at the almost untouched plate before him.
It was as though he could not find the strength to get up and once again face the silence waiting for him beyond the doors.
He did not want to admit it, even to himself, but the last few hours had exhausted him far more than he had expected.
And it had nothing to do with physical fatigue.
He was slowly becoming accustomed to that.
The pain, the weakness, the need to move more slowly than before were gradually becoming part of his new daily life.
A cane was now always at his side, without which even a short walk around the estate required too much effort.
Richard was learning to accept this dependence calmly, without allowing it to irritate him.
But this exhaustion was different.
It weighed on him from within, growing heavier with every meeting, every new look, every name spoken in his presence.
The weight of someone else’s name.
Someone else’s eyes.
Someone else’s expectations.
Every person he had met that day had looked at him as though he truly were the man they had known for years.
Recognition, relief, and at times a hidden anxiety could be read in their eyes.
They addressed him with a familiar warmth that felt almost foreign to Richard.
And he was seeing them for the first time.
He did not know their voices, did not remember their habits, could not recall a single conversation that, to them, had obviously meant something.
They knew his past, remembered his deeds, and imagined the man he had once been.
To them, he had returned.
For him, everything was only beginning.
Richard finally raised his eyes.
“Sebastian.” The butler, standing nearby, immediately answered.
“Yes, my lord?” Richard hesitated for a moment.
Sebastian had hardly left his side all day, doing everything he could to help with whatever required extra effort.
He had accompanied him during dinner, made sure he did not overexert himself, and patiently answered his endless questions.
Now Richard wanted to be alone, if only for a little while.
“You are free for the evening.
You may go and rest.” Sebastian inclined his head slightly.
“Of course, my lord.
If you need anything, ring the bell.
I will be nearby.” “Very well.” The butler bowed once more and stepped away from the table.
His footsteps gradually faded down the corridor, leaving Richard alone in the nearly deserted dining room.
For a few moments, he remained motionless, listening to the silence that had settled around him.
Then he took the cane resting beside his chair and, leaning on it, slowly rose.
The movement proved more difficult than he would have liked.
Richard stopped and waited until his body adjusted to the strain.
Only then did he make his way toward the door.
He entered the corridor slowly, placing his cane carefully with each step and forcing himself not to hurry.
Now he had to cross the empty estate to reach his room.
And for some reason, that journey seemed much longer than it actually was.
At night, the estate looked even emptier than it had during the day.
At least during daylight there had been the muffled voices of servants, footsteps in adjoining rooms, the creak of opening doors.
Now the silence seemed to have swallowed everything around him.
The faint candlelight barely illuminated the old walls, revealing patches of wallpaper darkened by age and carved wooden panels.
Long shadows trembled across the stone floor, following Richard as he slowly moved forward.
Each step was slightly more difficult than he would have liked.
Richard still had not grown accustomed to it.
He had not grown accustomed to needing help with the simplest things, things he had once never even thought about.
Climbing stairs.
Walking through several corridors.
Standing in one place for too long.
Taking a few steps without feeling the familiar confidence in his own body.
Once, all of this had been so natural that he had never given it a second thought.
Now even the simple walk to his own room reminded him of how profoundly his life had changed.
Once, he had been young.
Once, his body had obeyed him without question or hesitation, responding to every movement so naturally that he had never needed to think about it.
He could walk through the night without feeling tired, remain on his feet for hours, endure pain and keep moving, never allowing it to stop him.
Now everything was different.
A few dozen steps reminded him that he was no longer the same man.
His body tired more quickly, his movements had become more cautious, and the confidence he had once possessed had vanished, leaving him constantly forced to listen to his own body.
But perhaps that was the strangest thing of all.
Richard did not hate his new body.
There was no irritation, no disgust, no desire to turn away from it as though it were something alien and unnecessary.
If anything, he felt a strange, almost peaceful curiosity toward it.
Whose body was it?
Who was the man who had lived this life before him?
What thoughts had he hidden behind his silence?
What had he feared?
What had he dreamed of?
What had he loved, and what had he hated?
Why did people look at Richard as though his return to their lives should have brought everything else back with it?
There were no answers yet.
When the door to his room finally closed behind him, Richard simply stood in the middle of the room for a while.
Silence greeted him almost immediately.
Everything here belonged to someone else.
The bed, neatly made and left as though its owner might return at any moment.
The desk, with several books and a few small objects scattered across it, objects whose significance Richard did not yet understand.
Clothes in the wardrobe.
Belongings arranged in their accustomed places.
Even the smallest details seemed to be part of someone’s long-established life.
He slowly looked around the room, letting his gaze linger on one thing, then another.
Everything here spoke of a man he could not remember.
And yet this was his room.
His belongings.
His life.
Even the air seemed filled with memories Richard did not possess.
As though the walls remembered him better than he remembered himself.
He slowly approached the mirror.
And saw him again.
An old man.
A weary face marked by deep wrinkles.
Gray hair in which almost none of its former color remained.
The gaze of a man who had already traveled most of his road and left long years of life behind him.
Richard stared at his reflection for a long time without looking away.
Until recently, he had expected to see something utterly alien—a face impossible to mistake for a human one, or at least something frightening and inexplicable.
Instead, he had found an ordinary man.
Simply an old man.
A man who had once been young too.
Who had once looked into this very mirror and seen an entirely different face reflected back at him.
Who had once made plans for the future.
Who had wanted something, dreamed of something, strived toward something.
And for some reason, that thought affected him more deeply than anything else.
He had not received an empty body.
He had not simply become the owner of someone else’s shell.
He had taken the place of a man.
A man who had possessed his own life, his own memories, his own hopes and fears.
A life that, to Richard now, was nothing more than a collection of unknowns hidden behind a familiar face.
And for the first time since all of this had begun, he genuinely wanted to know who the man was whose reflection now stared back at him from the mirror.
“Who were you…?” The quiet question echoed through the empty room and almost immediately dissolved into silence.
Of course, there was no answer.
Richard continued staring at his reflection for a few more seconds, as though hoping to find some kind of clue in it.
But the mirror remained silent.
He turned away and once again raised his gaze toward the ceiling.
Toward the ancient mural.
During the day, it had seemed like nothing more than part of the interior—a beautiful but long-faded decoration that had become almost unnoticeable over the years.
At night, however, in the soft candlelight, the painting looked entirely different.
Shadows fell across the figures depicted there, making them seem to move with the flickering flames.
Some details disappeared into the half-light, while others, by contrast, became sharper.
Suddenly, Richard had the impression that the past was still alive in this room.
As though the house had preserved too many stories and continued silently telling them to anyone willing to stop and listen.
He stood motionless for a while, then approached the desk.
A small stack of papers lay on its surface.
Richard immediately realized they were not documents.
There were no official seals, no formal entries, no familiar forms—only ordinary sheets covered in handwriting.
Personal notes.
He froze, staring at them.
Reading someone else’s thoughts was wrong.
At least, that was how it seemed to him.
This was someone else’s life, someone else’s experiences and memories, things he had no right to touch simply because he now occupied this house and bore this name.
Richard was about to step away from the desk when his gaze lingered on the top sheet.
Or rather, on what lay on top of it.
He stopped.
There was an envelope.
Small, old, yellowed with age.
And for some reason, it was that envelope that made Richard change his mind.
The paper had darkened around the edges, and faint traces of age remained across its surface.
The seal holding the envelope shut bore the crest of House Ravenhart.
Richard froze.
He did not understand why, but at the mere sight of the emblem, his heart suddenly began to beat faster.
It was not a memory.
No image from the past surfaced, no unfamiliar voice sounded in his mind, no sense arose that he had held this envelope before.
Just a strange feeling.
Almost impossible to explain.
As though this object mattered.
Very much.
Richard slowly reached out and touched the envelope with his fingertips.
Yet before taking it, he stopped, his hand hovering a few inches above the desk.
A strange doubt arose within him.
If he opened this envelope… He would learn more about the man whose life he now carried.
Perhaps he would discover something he did not yet even know to ask about.
Perhaps he would find answers to the questions that had plagued him since his return.
But along with the answers might come new questions.
And was he ready for that?
Richard stared silently at the sealed envelope for several seconds, then gave a faint, almost imperceptible smile.
“What difference does it make…” After all, he was already inside this life.
And if fate had left him even one opportunity to discover whom it had once belonged to, it would be foolish to refuse it.
Richard stared at the envelope for a few more moments before giving another quiet laugh.
“No.
Not tonight.” A strange choice for a man who had died not long ago, only to open his eyes in another body and suddenly discover himself the head of an entire house.
And yet, for some reason, this old letter frightened him more than anything else.
Not because it could physically harm him.
Not even because it might conceal some dangerous secret.
Richard was afraid of something else.
He was afraid that what was written in the letter would change the way he saw the man whose life he was now unwillingly continuing.
The former Richard.
Perhaps a few lines on an old sheet of paper would force him to see that man in an entirely different light.
Not as a foreign name that had come to him along with the body, but as a living person with his own choices, mistakes, and reasons—reasons Richard knew nothing about yet.
And so Richard did not open the envelope.
Not yet.
He carefully placed it back on the desk, exactly where he had found it, and stared at the seal for a while longer.
“Later,” he whispered to himself.
“But I’ll read it eventually.” Not tonight.
First, he needed to understand the simplest things.
Who were all these people?
Why had they remained by his side?
What had bound them to the former Richard?
And most importantly—why was a house that had once possessed such a history and borne a name known far beyond its own lands now in such a state?
The questions were multiplying.
And there was not a single answer yet.
Richard sighed and slowly stepped away from the desk.
He would deal with the letter later.
First, he had to understand the very life he had just entered.
Too many questions swirled through his mind, and far too few answers could be found among them.
He slowly approached the window and stopped, staring into the darkness beyond the estate.
Night had already completely enveloped the surrounding lands, hiding beneath its cover the roads, forests, and everything beyond the high walls.
Somewhere in the distance, the wind blew steadily, occasionally stirring the branches of the trees into an uneasy rustle.
Richard did not know what awaited him ahead.
He had no idea how vast this world was or how much remained hidden beyond the walls he knew.
He did not know what dangers might await him where familiar life ended and the unknown began.
But strangely enough, for the first time in a long while, he felt no fear.
Instead, another feeling was slowly taking its place—curiosity.
In his previous life, he had understood one simple thing far too late: a person does not begin to die when their heart stops beating.
True death comes much earlier—in the moment when there is nothing left to seek, nothing left to strive toward, and nothing left to expect from tomorrow.
Now everything had changed.
He had a new world.
A new name.
A new life.
And, most importantly, a path once again stretched before him, filled with the unknown.
And along with it came countless mysteries whose answers he had yet to uncover.
Richard continued staring silently at his reflection in the dark glass for some time.
The faint light from the room barely touched his face, leaving the rest almost completely concealed in shadow.
The unfamiliar features were gradually beginning to seem less foreign.
“All right, Richard Ravenhart.” He spoke the name calmly, without hesitation.
It still sounded unfamiliar, as though it belonged to someone else—a man whose life he had yet to discover.
But there was no longer the same rejection in it.
He could not yet call the name his own, but for the first time, he allowed himself to accept it.
Richard looked at the reflection once more, as though trying to see in it the person this man had once been.
“Let’s see what kind of life you left behind.” There was neither anger nor judgment in his voice.
Only quiet curiosity and the determination to understand everything that had come to him along with this new name.
Outside, the deep night remained undisturbed.
The wind moved softly through the surrounding lands, while the old estate gradually sank into silence.
Richard stepped away from the window and went to bed.
That night, for the first time, he fell asleep not as a man who had lost everything.
But as a man who had only just begun to search.
And somewhere deep inside, he already knew: from this moment on, his life would never be the same.
— Morning came almost imperceptibly, slowly driving the darkness from the old estate.
Richard did not wake to the ringing of bells or to the first rays of sunlight breaking through the heavy curtains.
He was awakened by a strange sensation—barely perceptible, yet unfamiliar enough that his eyes opened immediately.
Foreign.
For several seconds, he simply lay still, staring at the ceiling and trying to understand where he was.
It was an old habit, one he had developed in his previous life: waking and becoming briefly lost between sleep and reality before memory finally returned him to the present.
But his mind, as before, initially clung to the past.
To a room that no longer existed.
To familiar walls.
To a life that had already ended.
Yet instead of the familiar ceiling, the mural appeared before his eyes once again.
Amid endless snow stood a lone knight, silent and motionless, as though he himself were part of that cold scene.
A quiet witness watching over him from above.
Richard slowly exhaled and continued studying the image for several moments.
This was not a dream.
With every awakening, that thought became more obvious.
He was already beginning to accept the fact.
Not because he truly believed what was happening, nor because he fully understood how it had happened.
There simply was no other choice.
His former life was over.
And this one was only beginning.
He slowly sat up in bed.
This time, the movement came a little more easily than the day before.
His body was still weak, and every attempt to move reminded him of the age he still could not quite grow accustomed to.
But now Richard was at least beginning to understand the capabilities and limitations of his new body.
He carefully placed his feet on the floor, sat for a few seconds to gather his strength, and then reached for the cane beside the bed.
Closing his fingers around the handle, Richard slowly rose.
His body responded with the familiar heaviness of age.
He took several cautious steps, leaning on the cane, and made his way toward the mirror.
His movements were still unfamiliar, but with each step he felt a little more confident.
Stopping before the mirror, Richard once again saw the old man.
Gray hair, deep wrinkles, a tired face, and the gaze of someone who had lived a long life.
A strange feeling.
A person should grow accustomed to their own reflection gradually.
Over the years, they watch their face slowly change, see the first wrinkles appear, watch their hair lose its color and their body grow weaker.
Richard had been forced to accept a new face in a single night.
He slowly raised a hand and ran his fingers through his gray hair.
For some time, he silently studied his reflection, as though he were still trying to grow accustomed to the man on the other side of the glass.
“Incredible…” His quiet voice dissolved into the morning silence of the room.
Richard lowered his hand and tightened his grip on the cane.
In his previous life, he had been afraid of losing time.
Afraid that one day he would wake up and realize that his best years were already behind him.
Now he had received precisely what he had once feared losing.
Time.
Only along with it had come the body of an old man, a чужое name, and an entire life about which he knew almost nothing.
Yet in exchange, he had been given the body of a man who had already lived nearly all of his life.
The irony of fate.
There was a knock at the door.
Richard had not yet answered when, after a brief pause, the door opened.
This time, a woman entered carrying a tray.
She had come to him before, so her appearance was not unexpected.
Richard recognized her almost immediately—not by a name he still could not remember, but by her familiar movements and calm expression.
She held the tray carefully, trying not to spill the contents of the cups.
It was difficult to determine her age.
She was no longer a young woman, yet there was still a confidence in her movements, the confidence of someone accustomed to caring for others and well aware of her place in the household.
Her hair was neatly gathered.
Her clothes were simple, without unnecessary adornments, but clean and well kept.
When she saw Richard standing by the mirror, the woman paused for only a moment.
An emotion flickered in her eyes.
Not fear.
Rather, quiet relief that he was truly standing before her on his own feet.
Richard noticed it and instinctively held her gaze.
He still could not remember her name, but now he at least knew he had seen her before.
And that meant that among all these unfamiliar faces, there was now one more that was gradually becoming less of a complete stranger.
“My lord.” She inclined her head, maintaining her customary restraint.
Richard looked at her carefully.
“You may leave the tray.” The woman nodded silently and placed it on the table.
Yet she did not hurry to leave.
She remained standing beside the table, as though she wanted to say something but could not bring herself to begin.
Richard noticed her hesitation.
“Is something wrong?” The woman flinched slightly and looked up.
Surprise briefly crossed her face, as though she had not expected him to notice.
“No, my lord.” She fell silent, clearly searching for the right words.
“It’s just…” “Just what?” The woman lowered her gaze.
“We are glad to see you again.” Richard said nothing.
Those words struck him harder than they should have.
Again.
Not “We are glad you woke.” Not “We are glad you are feeling better.” But “We are glad to see you again.” To her, the phrase was perfectly natural.
To Richard, it concealed far too much.
She was speaking to a man she had known for many years, while he saw her standing before him as almost a stranger.
For several moments, he studied her face.
Then he calmly asked: “What is your name?” The woman did not understand the question immediately.
Her eyes widened slightly, and then an expression flashed across her face that she immediately tried to conceal.
“Claudia, my lord.” She spoke her name softly, as though still hoping he would smile and tell her he was merely joking.
But Richard simply repeated it silently in his mind.
Claudia.
The name remained in his memory.
“Claudia…” He said it again, becoming accustomed to the sound.
After a brief pause, he continued: “Have you served this house for long?” This time, her surprise was more apparent.
She held his gaze for a moment, as though trying to understand what was happening, then answered carefully: “Almost all my life, my lord.” Richard slowly nodded.
Another person whose life had been closely tied to the past of Richard Ravenhart.
He looked at her for a few more seconds before calmly saying: “Thank you, Claudia.” The woman froze.
Only for a moment.
But Richard noticed it again.
The pause was too brief, the change in her expression too subtle to catch easily, yet after several similar incidents, he had begun to pay attention to such details.
His simple gratitude seemed to surprise those around him every time.
Why?
Had the former Richard truly been so different?
Claudia said nothing.
She merely inclined her head slightly before leaving the room.
The door closed quietly behind her.
Richard was alone again.
He looked at the tray, then at the closed door.
Strange.
The room was the same.
The silence had not disappeared.
And yet, somehow, it no longer seemed quite so empty.
He had a name.
At least one.
Claudia.
It explained almost nothing, but now there was at least one person in this new life whom he could call by name.
Richard approached the table, leaning on his cane.
Breakfast was simple and without extravagance: fresh bread, some fruit, and a cup of hot drink still giving off a faint wisp of steam.
But his attention was almost immediately drawn to what stood beside the plate.
A small glass vial.
Inside was a clear liquid with a faint silvery tint.
At first glance, it appeared ordinary, but the longer Richard looked at it, the more strongly he felt that there was something unusual about the substance.
He frowned.
Richard did not remember ever seeing anything like it.
At that moment, there was another knock at the door.
This time, he already knew who was on the other side.
“Come in.” The door opened, and Sebastian entered the room.
The butler stopped in his customary place near the entrance, and his gaze almost immediately shifted to the glass vial beside the breakfast.
“Claudia brought you a restorative draught, my lord.” Richard looked at the vial.
The transparent liquid shimmered with a faint silver hue and appeared almost harmless.
“A restorative?” “Yes, my lord.” Sebastian approached and stopped beside the table, his expression as calm as ever.
“Given the condition of your body yesterday, this draught should accelerate your recovery and help you regain your strength more quickly.” Richard continued staring silently at the vial.
The events of the past day inevitably surfaced in his mind, along with everything he still did not understand.
Too much here was unfamiliar: the world itself, the people around him, their manner of speaking, the medicines, and even the way they regarded what was happening.
Yesterday, he probably would have simply taken the medicine without asking unnecessary questions.
But now everything was different.
He understood all too well how little he knew about this world.
And the longer he remained here, the more clearly he realized that beneath familiar words and seemingly simple things lay far more than he could yet imagine.
Richard slowly raised his eyes to Sebastian.
“What is it?” The butler glanced at the draught for a moment, as though making sure he understood exactly what was being asked, then looked back at his master.
“Medicine, my lord.” The answer came calmly and without the slightest hesitation.
Richard frowned slightly.
“Ordinary medicine?” This time Sebastian did not answer immediately.
A brief silence fell between them.
Only a few seconds, barely noticeable to anyone else, but it was enough for Richard.
He watched the butler’s face carefully, noting even the smallest changes.
Sebastian still looked perfectly calm.
But that brief hesitation told Richard far more than any words could have.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
So, no.
Richard looked at the glass vial again.
The silver liquid remained still, reflecting the light, and now it no longer seemed quite so harmless.
“Then what exactly is unusual about it?” he finally asked.
Sebastian straightened slightly but did not look away.
“My lord, it is a compound used to accelerate the body’s recovery.
It will not harm you.” “That is not what I asked.” Richard’s tone remained calm, but there was insistence in his voice now.
“I want to know exactly what I am about to take.” Sebastian answered calmly: “Claudia used part of her power in preparing the compound.” Richard fell silent for several moments.
His gaze returned to the small glass vial, where the silver liquid shimmered faintly in the light of the room.
Now he looked at it differently.
He knew about magic.
At least, by now he knew enough that the revelation was no longer shocking.
He had already heard of mages and understood that their existence in this world was as much a part of reality as nobles, servants, or the medicine before him.
But until now, all of that had remained abstract, something distant and general.
Now magic had unexpectedly acquired a face.
Claudia.
Richard slowly raised his eyes to Sebastian.
“So… Claudia is one of the mages of this house?” Sebastian inclined his head slightly.
“Yes, my lord.” Richard frowned thoughtfully.
For several seconds, he remained silent, sorting through everything he had learned about her.
Until recently, Claudia had seemed to him simply one of the servants who had known him for a long time and grown accustomed to being around him.
He had not even been able to remember her name.
And now he was learning that she also possessed magic.
“And she regularly uses her power to prepare medicines?” “When necessary, my lord.” Richard looked at the draught again.
Now many things were beginning to fall into place.
He slowly exhaled and leaned back slightly.
The world in which he had awakened became less and less like the one he remembered with every new answer.
And perhaps the strangest thing was not even the existence of magic.
It was how naturally everyone here treated it.
“I see,” Richard said quietly.
But the expression on his face made it clear that, in truth, he now had even more questions.
For several more seconds, he continued looking at the small glass vial.
The silver liquid shimmered faintly in the morning sunlight, reflecting the light in thin glints.
At first glance, it was merely medicine.
An ordinary thing that should not have inspired any particular thoughts.
But to Richard, the vial was another reminder of how completely his life had changed.
To those around him, all of this was probably an ordinary part of daily life.
To him, every such detail was proof that what was happening was real.
Not a dream.
Not an illusion.
Not the final game of a fading consciousness.
Another world existed.
And now he was part of it.
Richard slowly looked away from the vial.
Since awakening, his memory had behaved strangely.
Sometimes knowledge or images he had never possessed before would suddenly surface in his mind.
They appeared on their own, without any effort on his part, as though someone were briefly opening a door into another person’s past.
He could see a familiar face and suddenly understand who stood before him.
Hear a name and feel that he knew it.
But the moment he tried to understand where that knowledge had come from, everything inside him became empty again.
These memories did not obey him.
They simply came.
And vanished just as suddenly.
Richard raised his eyes to Sebastian.
For several moments, he remained silent before speaking calmly: “I imagine you have already noticed that my memory is still quite confused after I woke.” Sebastian remained impassive.
“Yes, my lord.” Richard frowned slightly.
“Sometimes I know things that, as far as I am aware, I should not know.
I recognize people, places, certain events.
But I cannot understand where that knowledge came from.” He paused briefly.
“And sometimes I do not recognize people whom, judging by everything, I should have known all my life.” Sebastian listened attentively.
“It was noticeable, my lord.” Richard raised an eyebrow slightly.
“That much?” “You ask questions about things you would certainly have once considered obvious.
And you look at certain people as though you are seeing them for the first time.” There was neither reproach nor pity in his voice.
Only the calm observation of someone who had already noticed the changes.
Richard thoughtfully lowered his gaze.
Now much became clearer.
If Sebastian had already noticed the changes, then he would not have to pretend that everything was fine.
“Good,” Richard said quietly.
“Then at least I won’t have to pretend I remember things I don’t.” Sebastian inclined his head slightly.
“I believe that would be the wisest course, my lord.” Richard once again looked at the silver liquid.
Everything that was happening still seemed incredible, but he was gradually beginning to accept one simple fact: now he would have to live with whatever remained of the former owner’s memories.
If these fragments truly continued to return on their own, then perhaps, in time, he might at least understand who the man was whose life he was now unwillingly continuing.
Sebastian inclined his head slightly, acknowledging his words.
For several moments, Richard silently watched him, considering what he had heard.
Then he lowered his gaze once more to the small glass vial, where the silver liquid gleamed motionlessly.
Now it interested him far more than it had a few minutes earlier.
“But you noticed this before.” “Yes, my lord.” “And all this time, you said nothing.” There was no irritation in Richard’s voice.
Rather, he was trying to understand Sebastian’s reasoning.
If the butler had truly noticed that something was wrong with him, why had he not warned him immediately?
Sebastian did not answer at once.
“Because I was not certain how serious the changes were.” Richard looked up at him.
“You thought it was temporary?” “After what happened to you, I could not know for certain what had affected your memory.
Your condition was severe.
It was entirely possible that your memories would gradually return on their own.” He paused briefly.
“Besides, I did not want to push you toward conclusions you were not yet ready to reach on your own.” Richard frowned.
“Why?” Sebastian looked at him calmly and directly.
“If I had told you from the very beginning that you had forgotten part of your life, what would it have changed?” Richard did not answer.
He understood the answer himself.
Nothing.
Or rather, it might only have made things worse.
Too much already seemed wrong to him: a foreign body, an unfamiliar world, people who addressed him as though they had known him all their lives.
If, within the first few hours, he had also been told that he had lost a significant portion of his memories, it would hardly have helped him understand what was happening.
Sebastian continued: “You had already awakened in a state where you did not understand what was happening.
I decided it would be better to let you make sense of your own feelings before drawing any conclusions for you.” Richard remained silent for some time.
There was nothing unusual in Sebastian’s words, but they carried the caution of a man who preferred to observe before interfering.
“So you simply waited for me to realize it myself.” “Yes, my lord.” Richard lowered his gaze.
He could not say that he completely agreed with the decision.
But now that he knew more, it no longer seemed wrong.
Sebastian hesitated slightly before adding: “Sometimes a person needs to realize for himself what has happened to him.
Especially when it is not a matter of a forgotten name or event.” He paused briefly.
“But a part of one’s own life.” Those words made Richard fall silent.
A part of one’s own life.
For Sebastian, that was probably exactly what it was.
A man had awakened after a serious condition, having lost part of his memories, and now he would have to gradually recover them or learn to live with what remained.
But for Richard, it was far more complicated.
He had not lost his own life.
He had found himself inside someone else’s.
And perhaps that was precisely why the fragments of memory that sometimes came to him on their own seemed so strange.
Richard slowly raised his eyes to Sebastian.
“Perhaps you are right,” he said after a long pause.
Sebastian said nothing.
Richard looked at the medicine again, realizing that the conversation about his memory was merely one of countless things he still had to understand.
And the more he learned, the clearer it became that the former life of the man who owned this body concealed far more than he could have imagined.
Sebastian was already preparing to step away when Richard suddenly remembered something else.
“By the way, the reports.” The butler stopped.
“The ones I asked you to prepare?” “Yes, my lord.
They are ready.” Sebastian approached a small table by the wall and picked up a neat stack of documents.
“Reports on the income and expenses of the estate over the past several years.
I ordered everything that remained in the archives to be collected.” He placed the papers before Richard.
Richard looked at the stack and thought for a few seconds.
It was precisely because of these documents that he had first attempted to understand the financial state of the house yesterday.
The figures, reports, and records should at least give him some idea of what had been happening to the estate over the past several years.
Richard reached out and touched the top sheet, but did not begin reading it.
Instead, he raised his eyes to Sebastian.
“Very well.
I’ll look through them later.” The butler raised an eyebrow slightly.
“Later, my lord?” “First, I want to inspect the estate.” Sebastian stared at him silently for several seconds.
“Of course.” Richard glanced at the documents.
The papers were not going anywhere.
At least, he hoped accounting reports did not have a habit of disappearing on their own during the night.
“Leave them here.” “As you wish, my lord.” Sebastian placed the documents on the table and stepped away.
Richard continued staring at them for several seconds before turning his gaze toward the window.
First, he wanted to see the house itself.
To learn it not through numbers and records, but through the people who lived and worked there.
Because that was how everything felt.
It was not even that Richard knew absolutely nothing about the history of this world.
Nor was it simply that, after awakening, he had found himself among people whose names, faces, and habits meant almost nothing to him.
The most troubling thing was something else.
He had lost his connection to the man whose face he now saw in the mirror.
Every time Richard looked at his reflection, he felt a strange division within himself.
The mirror insisted without question that the man standing before it was him, yet his own mind categorically refused to accept that assertion.
And perhaps that was what troubled him most of all.
Richard paused for a moment, turning over everything he had learned so far in his mind.
Then he looked at Sebastian again.
“Then tell me something else.” The butler looked at him attentively without saying a word.
Richard hesitated slightly before asking: “What was I like before?” Sebastian did not answer immediately.
For the first time during their conversation, the usually composed expression on his face revealed the slightest uncertainty.
It seemed that this question was far more difficult for him than any of the others.
“My lord…” “I understand that you cannot tell me everything,” Richard continued calmly, not allowing him to evade the answer.
“But you knew me before.
Surely you have noticed that I have changed.” Sebastian slowly nodded.
“You have.” “How much?” An even longer silence followed.
Richard did not rush him.
He genuinely wanted to hear the answer.
Not about lost memories.
Not about what had happened to him.
And not even about the reasons behind the changes.
He wanted to know about the man he had been before opening his eyes in this body.
What was the real Richard like?
Sebastian lowered his gaze, as though mentally selecting the most precise words.
Judging by his expression, he would probably have preferred to prepare a report on the state of the royal treasury rather than explain to his master what he had once been like.
At last, the butler spoke.
“Enough that even someone who has known you for many years would notice.” Richard frowned slightly.
“And in what way?” “You are much quieter.” Sebastian paused briefly before continuing.
“Before, you rarely allowed yourself to remain silent for long if you did not understand something.
You were more straightforward.
Sometimes…” He fell silent for a moment, as though deciding how safe it was to continue.
“Too straightforward.” A faint smile appeared on the butler’s lips.
Richard raised an eyebrow.
“‘Too’ how much?” “In some situations, you were capable of expressing your opinion before those around you had time to prepare themselves to hear it.” “That sounds dangerous.” “For those around you—at times.” Richard could not help but smile.
For the first time that morning, the conversation began to resemble neither an interrogation nor an attempt to reconstruct his own biography, but an ordinary conversation.
Although the fact that his past self had apparently posed some danger to those around him was mildly concerning.
“And what else?” Sebastian continued more calmly: “You trusted your own decisions far more often than the words of others.” Richard listened thoughtfully before asking: “And now?” “Now you observe first, ask questions second, and only then make a decision.” Richard remained silent for several seconds before giving a quiet laugh.
“It sounds as though I used to be an insufferable man.” “I would not put it that way, my lord.” “But you thought it.” “I merely said that you were different.” “Very diplomatic.” “That is one of the duties of a good butler.” Richard shook his head, hiding a smile.
Even if Sebastian truly thought his former self had been insufferable, he clearly had no intention of saying so outright.
Perhaps butlers underwent special training that enabled them to survive even the most uncomfortable questions from their masters without losing either their dignity or their employment.
However, after a few seconds, Sebastian’s expression grew more serious.
He looked at Richard again, and this time there was something more in his gaze than simple recollection.
“My lord was never a man who was easy to understand.” Richard stopped smiling and looked at him attentively.
“He could be too demanding,” Sebastian continued.
“Sometimes too quiet.
And at times, he preferred not to speak about his problems at all.” He paused briefly.
“You often tried to carry everything yourself, even when there were people nearby who were willing to help you.” Richard lowered his gaze.
There was no judgment in Sebastian’s words.
He was not trying to portray the former Richard as either a hero or a flawless man.
He was simply remembering.
And somehow, that sounded more convincing than any praise could have.
Richard slowly raised his eyes.
“So I really have changed that much.” “Yes, my lord.” Sebastian answered without hesitation.
This time, Richard did not make a joke.
He was still trying to imagine the man the butler was describing.
Demanding.
Stubborn.
Withdrawn.
A man who preferred to deal with everything himself and probably regarded asking for help as almost a defeat.
It was not the most flattering picture.
Richard was beginning to suspect that his predecessor possessed a rare talent for creating problems even where they could easily have been avoided.
But Sebastian was not finished.
“But…” For the first time during the conversation, he smiled.
It was barely noticeable, almost imperceptible, but Richard saw it.
“He never abandoned those who depended on him.” Richard looked closely at the butler.
There was something in those simple words he had not expected to hear.
There was no mention of titles.
No mention of money.
No mention of the family’s position or the power the former Richard had possessed.
Only people.
Those who depended on him.
Those for whom he bore responsibility.
And in that moment, Richard finally understood why Sebastian had stayed.
Not because of the title.
Not because of money.
And certainly not for profit.
He had stayed because he believed in the former Richard.
Believed in a man who no longer existed.
The thought made something inside Richard unexpectedly heavy.
He remained silent for several seconds, unable to find the right words.
“I see.” That was all he could manage.
Yet something new was already taking shape inside him.
Not fear.
Not confusion.
Not even the familiar desire to understand what was happening.
Responsibility.
Not toward the house.
Not yet.
There was still too much he did not know and too little he understood.
Toward the people.
Toward those who continued to look at him and see someone else.
The man they remembered.
The man they trusted.
And perhaps it was only now that Richard truly understood what he had received along with this name.
He had received more than another man’s life.
He had inherited a trust that someone else had once earned.
And now he had to decide whether he could preserve it.
“Sebastian.” “Yes, my lord?” Richard remained silent for several seconds, gathering his thoughts.
The butler’s words continued to echo in his mind, and the longer he considered them, the more he understood how little he truly knew about the man whose life he was now forced to continue.
“I want to know more.” Sebastian bowed calmly.
“Then I will tell you.” He was about to continue, but after a brief pause he added: “Gradually.” Richard looked at him attentively.
“Why?” The butler straightened slightly and thought for a moment, choosing his words.
“Because even a perfectly healthy person would find it difficult to accept an entire life that is not their own in a single day.” His gaze shifted toward the medicine, which still stood nearby, as though reminding them that the conversation had already lasted longer than it should have.
“And you, my lord, need to recover above all else.” Richard opened his mouth to object, but almost immediately changed his mind.
There was neither an order nor an attempt to stop him in Sebastian’s words.
Rather, it was a calm reminder that not everything needed to be resolved immediately.
And, strangely enough, it was much harder to argue with that.
Richard looked at the medicine again and grimaced faintly.
Apparently, he had already lost enough battles today to avoid starting one voluntarily.
He leaned back and finally allowed his shoulders to relax.
For the first time in a long while, Richard did not rush.
He did not demand answers immediately, did not try to construct the entire picture of what was happening in a matter of minutes, and did not begin searching for the next step before taking the previous one.
He simply allowed himself to stop.
And that was when he understood one simple thing.
He had spent too long trying to defeat time.
Trying to catch up with events, understand everything at once, reclaim what he had lost, and fill every gap before it could become something larger.
But time was not his enemy.
At least, not now.
For the first time, it occurred to him that perhaps not everything needed to be learned in a single day.
Sometimes it was enough simply to take the next step.
Then another.
And time, of all things, was now what he had in greatest abundance.
The thought was strange, almost paradoxical.
In his previous life, Richard had constantly felt that he did not have enough time.
He had to make a decision, solve a problem, find a way forward, take the next step before circumstances took it for him.
Now circumstances were in no hurry.
And for the first time in a long while, Richard understood one simple thing.
To understand this house, it was not enough merely to know its name.
A house was not walls, expensive furniture, or even the crest above the entrance.
It was not a history recorded in old books, a family tree, or a list of achievements belonging to those who had carried the name before him.
A house was its people.
Those who walked its corridors every day, opened doors, prepared food, maintained order, argued, laughed, worried, and continued living their lives regardless of how important the events seemed to the master of the house.
And if he truly had taken the place of a man they had once trusted… Then Richard had to understand more than his past.
He had to understand his present.
Which meant he had to understand the people who created that present.
The thought would not leave him.
And so, for the rest of the day, Richard spent his time neither in his study nor poring over documents.
He simply observed.
At first, it felt unfamiliar.
Even strange.
Richard was accustomed to seeking answers directly.
If a problem arose, he analyzed it, found its causes, asked questions, and reached a solution as quickly as possible.
In his previous life, he had rarely allowed himself the luxury of remaining in a state of uncertainty for long.
But now that approach hardly worked.
The moment he asked one question, three more appeared.
The moment he opened one document, he discovered that understanding it required knowledge of several other things.
And whenever he asked someone a direct question, Richard almost immediately caught himself realizing that the person before him was answering not only the question itself, but was also cautiously trying to determine what kind of master he had become.
So he decided not to rush.
He observed.
The servants moved through the house with remarkable confidence, as though they knew every creaking floorboard and every door that had the unpleasant habit of closing louder than the others.
He watched how they spoke to one another when they thought the master could not hear them.
He watched how their expressions changed whenever Richard appeared in a corridor.
Some immediately straightened and became noticeably more serious.
Others, by contrast, tried to behave normally, but did so with such determination that it became obvious they were consciously performing normality.
It was especially amusing to watch those who, upon seeing him, suddenly remembered some extremely important business at the other end of the corridor.
Richard quickly realized that he was not the only one who had yet to grow accustomed to his new behavior.
Those around him also did not know what to expect from him.
And that was useful.
Because in such moments, people stopped choosing their words so carefully and sometimes revealed far more than they had intended.
Richard did not interfere.
He asked no questions.
He did not try to make them speak.
He simply watched and remembered.
Gradually, an entirely different picture of the house began to take shape before him.
Not one that could be found in documents.
A living one.
A real one.
And perhaps, for the first time since awakening, Richard felt that he was truly beginning to understand where he had ended up.
Only a little, for now.
But it was a beginning.
The beginning of a journey that would lead him toward answers capable of changing everything he knew about his new life.
Several young men were training nearby.
Richard stopped.
He did not approach.
He did not want to interfere.
He simply watched.
Their movements were far from perfect.
Even he could see their mistakes.
But they continued.
Again.
And again.
Despite the fatigue.
Despite the cold.
Despite having no audience.
Richard watched them silently for several minutes.
Why?
Why did they continue if no one was demanding it of them right now?
The answer was simple.
Because they believed.
In what, exactly, Richard did not yet know.
But the faith was there.
And perhaps it was precisely that faith that was keeping this house from collapsing completely.
He remained in the courtyard for a while longer, then slowly returned inside.
By evening, Richard found himself back in his room.
The day had been far more exhausting than he had expected.
Not because of his body.
Because of the information.
Every person.
Every detail.
Every glance.
Everything reminded him of one thing.
He had not simply been given a new life.
He had been given someone else’s responsibility.
Richard sat by the window for some time, watching the first lights appear beyond the estate walls.
Then his gaze drifted toward the desk.
Toward the neat stack of documents Sebastian had left there that morning.
Reports.
Income.
Expenses.
The last several years of the house’s life, reduced to figures and entries on old paper.
Richard slowly stood.
This time, he no longer hesitated.
If he truly wanted to understand what had happened to House Ravenhart, observation alone would not be enough.
He approached the desk, took his cane, and carefully lowered himself into the chair.
An entire history lay before him.
Only now, it was written not in memories, but in numbers.
Richard picked up the first document and began to read.
The first few pages inspired nothing but mild confusion.
The income was modest.
The expenses were higher than they should have been.
Some entries seemed entirely ordinary, while others immediately drew his attention.
Richard frowned.
He turned the page.
Then another.
The longer he read, the less he liked the figures before him.
The estate was indeed experiencing financial difficulties.
But that was not the only problem.
Richard slowly leaned back in his chair and looked at the report again.
Some expenses repeated year after year.
Some amounts gradually increased.
And some entries contained no sufficiently detailed explanation at all.
He picked up the next document.
Then another.
Time continued to pass unnoticed until darkness had completely fallen outside the window.
Now Richard no longer had any doubts.
Behind the neglected walls, old curtains, and the habit of repairing things instead of buying new ones, there was a problem far more serious than he had imagined.
And for the first time that day, he felt that something more than a picture of the past was beginning to emerge before him.
A trail.
A trail that might lead him to the answer to the most important question.
What had happened to House Ravenhart?