"This is some serious bullshit."

Cale was somewhere beyond the state of agitation.

After spending just over a day in his new world, he'd gotten a firm grasp of the status quo. Honestly, everything was frustratingly similar to his life in the real world except surrounded by cheap fantasy tropes.

It was kind of annoying, if he was totally honest. While Cale wasn't the biggest consumer of fiction, especially within the fantasy genre, he wasn't ignorant of the entire genre dedicated to teleporting to another world where everything is better because fantasy.

It felt like a pretty low blow that he still had to deal with all of the same family drama only with a new coat of paint. Like, wow, who the fuck wanted to deal with all their traumas but this time magic is real and dragons exist.

It was cheap and annoying and Cale wanted it to stop yesterday.

Especially since his situation with his family had actually regressed.

Despite the fact that he was still twenty-seven years old, his relationship with his family was closer to what it had been like in his late teens and early twenties. As though he'd been stuck in some cruel timeloop of all the shit he'd gone through and done back then.

It made some sense, in a shitty way.

Cale had been determined to maintain his 'trash' persona for his entire life. It had taken a lot of time, therapy, and certain external elements to even trigger a desire to change within him. Or to find a new way to communicate with his family.

His relationship with his family wasn't perfect, there was just too much baggage there, but Cale could be honest with them and he was finally able to let go of his preconceptions of how he was supposed to be and...

Well, there was just a lot of unpacked baggage that had taken so fucking long to deal with properly and he was finally happy with his fucking relationship with his fucking family and then there was this bullshit.

Cale scowled down at his food, feeling his temper flaring up again as his family stared at him with fearful apprehension over what he might do. He wasn't mad at them, he knew why they were like that, he'd done it on purpose. He was mad that he was back in this fucking situation and this time he had even more obstacles to overcome it.

For starters, it was really helpful to have modern expectations of the family dynamic. Apparently for bullshit fantasy realities you just lived with your fucking family until you fucking die.

It was really helpful for Cale to be able to broach these issues with his family and then go home.

Basen flinched as he dropped his fork onto the table and Cale scowled even deeper than before.

It hurt to have Basen scared of him again.

Of course he'd never hurt his brother, he never would, not in any reality, but his behavior had been raucous enough to inspire fear and no one would enjoy being feared by their loved ones.

"I'm not fucking hungry." Cale spat, pushing away from the table and storming out of the room.

He wasn't helping the situation at all, he knew that, but he wasn't ready to help the situation.

What the ever the loving fuck was he supposed to do?

He'd entered a fantasy version of his life where everything was fucking worse.

He stormed into 'his room', glared at 'his decor', 'his alcohol', 'his books'–

Cale knew himself well enough to know it was all his but fuck did he hate it. He hated all of this. He hated being stuck here. He hated his life regressing. He hated that his fucking fiance was apparently some obnoxiously unapproachable prince. He hated that his brother was scared of him and his father didn't know how to talk to him and how everything he'd achieved in his life had become so much nothing–

He hated every fucking miserable thing here and he wanted to watch it burn. Wanted to smash everything in one impulsive act of violent revenge for stealing his life from him.

The trouble was that he didn't actually have a target for the whole burning thing. It wasn't like he wanted to burn his family or his home or anything concrete. He wanted the situation to burn and die and never return ever again.

"Fuck it."

Cale had a lot of time to consider what was going on with this strange reality.

"Fuck this."

There were a lot of options. Alternate universes, reality bending, coma dreams, some matrix bullshit–

And if Cale was a considerate sort of person then he'd carefully and methodically find out which was the truth and then come up with an appropriate solution based on that information. For example, if it was an alternate universe, a rational person would try not to interfere with their other selves life and try to find a way home.

Calew wasn't rational or considerate. He was a stubborn bastard who was pissed.

He didn't give a flying fuck why this deplorable situation had coming into being. He sure as fuck wasn't going to live through it.

Who cares about alternate versions of himself or whatever the fuck he was planning with his life? Cale was a self-centered bastard who did whatever the fuck he wanted!

He had no way of knowing if there was even a way to get home or if home even still existed.

Cale clenched his fists until his nails pierced his skin, the feeling of helpless fear that he was barely attempting to suppress with self-righteous anger threatening to overcome him.

"Yeah. I did this shit once. I can do it again."

Maybe his eyes stung and his world stung and all he wanted was the sweet comfort of his life but Cale was stubborn to a fault.

Once he decided on a course of action, he carried it out. Regardless of the advisability.

He wouldn't let this knock him over.

First things first. Cale marched over to the alcohol cabinet, snatching a bottle of wine and taking a good swig.

He deserved a fucking drink after the day he was having.

"Ron!" He called out, the servant entering the room obediently as though he'd been waiting just outside. He probably was. Ron could sense his moods better than most people and he could only guess how concerning his current chaotic emotions must look. "I need to write a letter. Make the preparations."

Cale's night only got busier from there. After drinking far too much and behaving with a surprising level of composure, the staff were all on edge.

His father was certain to be receiving reports of his behavior.

Cale didn't give a fuck.

He crashed in his bed, exhausted and ready to begin everything in earnest from tomorrow onward.

A similarity that Cale had with his counterpart was a deep awareness of how his behavior impacted the behavior of others and how he could use that to manipulate and elicit certain reactions.

"...I need to shake shit up." He mumbled to himself, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling and feeling the loss in his life once more.

He could imagine Alberu lying nearby, quirking a smile and asking exactly how and why he had to do that.

"...'cause I miss you."

Because he was scared shitless.

Alberu. His Alberu would know what he meant. Would be able to hug and comfort him and offer a more sensible course of action.

His Alberu could have talked him down from doing anything drastic or just soothed all of the raging chaos inside of him.

It hurt more than ever now that he'd decided to take action.

No matter what he did and no matter how hard he struggled, he was aware that he was unlikely to see his Alberu ever again. Even if he succeeded in meeting this stupid Crown Prince son of a bitch he still wouldn't be his Alberu.

Just some shitty fantasy world version.

He knew that wasn't entirely true and he was letting his bitter thoughts take hold.

Basen was still Basen. His father was still his father. Violan, Lily, Ron–everyone was living breathing and undeniably the people he knew and loved.

But the memories were different. The experiences were different.

And that really made the difference. Painfully so.

Cale wasn't sure when he drifted to sleep but when he woke up the room was bustling.

Predictably, his father wanted to meet with him.

Count Deruth Henituse was holding his letter when he came into the office, a thoughtful frown on his face over the contents.

"...you wish to move to the villa in the capital?"

Cale stood up straight, nodding his head with a resolute expression on his face. He held himself with the elegance and grace he would have hid beneath thuggish behavior and irrational yelling, causing his entire demeanor to change shockingly.

Deruth was more than a little taken aback by it.

"The attack from the other day opened my eyes." Cale said, spewing bullshit as a means of explanation. "I need to start changing my life and I believe that a change in environment would be pivotal to that change."

Of course on Cale's growing to do list he was planning to find out who was behind the attacks and deal with them. There was no way he could tolerate some fantasy bullshit assassin piece of shit douchebags to go around threatening his family.

But before he could do anything about them, he'd need more information and just so much more influence than he had right now.

A crown prince sounded like a good way to gain influence.

Deruth's expression grew strange as he tapped the envelope thoughtfully against his desk, his surprise over the formal request only matched by his surprise by Cale's change in demeanor.

It wasn't a bad rationality. It was just worrisome. Within the Henituse territory, Deruth could guarantee Cale's safety and freedom no matter what he did. His influence in the capital was somewhat lacking.

"...and you'd like to bring your younger siblings with you?"

"I believe that it would be a good influence for them to experience high society in order to prepare for the future." Cale knew his next words were a bit cruel and he regretted them, just a bit, but he knew his father and he knew what levers to pull. "And until the current situation is resolved, their safety within the Henituse isn't guaranteed."

"They wouldn't be any safer in the capital." Deruth defended, frowning at the painful jab at Cale's own mortal peril from only a few nights ago. The terror he felt had already caused him to begin looking into hiring mercenaries in order to resolve this situation quicker.

"I disagree, father." Cale saw the way Deruth flinched at being called father. It wasn't that he hated it, far from it, it had just been a long time since Cale had done so. It had been a long time since Cale had talked to him with such composure. "Let's control the information."

"...what do you mean?"

Cale smirked a bit cruelly. "Among those who could afford droves of assassins to continue to harass our territory and target our family, there could only be our fellow nobles. My arrival at the capital can't be kept a secret for very long." Especially considering the plans he had. "Start sharing the information only with those who we have animosity or poor relations with. If we're lucky, the timing of the next attack will reveal who our real enemies are."

Deruth reeled at the suggestion. "You want you and your siblings to be bait?!" It was an appalling idea that Deruth could hardly believe that his eldest son would suggest.

His son could be reckless and inconsiderate and well, without a better word, trashy. But he wasn't a boy who would endanger his siblings.

Cale appeared undaunted by his fathers shock.

"Actually, I'd like to use a lie as bait. Father, do we still have a villa in the Northern mountains?" They did, he'd checked. Hans was an obnoxious bastard but he was an absolute treasure trove of information. "All that most people would know until our arrival is that we're no longer in the Henituse territory. Wouldn't it be nice to send a separate envoy to our mountain villa? An envoy full of individuals best suited to the task?"

Deruth had never seen this side of his son.

He knew his father wasn't as foolish as he portrayed himself. He'd always seen the wasted potential of his son and hoped that one day he'd finally grow past his downward spiral.

He just never realized how little he really knew his son before this day.

There was a streak of merciless calculation to his words and demeanor. He was right, his son would never endanger his siblings, but he was also far more calculating than Deruth imagined.

"Allow me to think it over." Deruth said, feeling as though he was looking at a stranger. "I'll let you know by the end of the week."

Cale nodded, confident he'd get his way. It wasn't an ingenious plan, it was the sort of simple trick that anyone could have come up with.

He didn't design it to be clever. He designed it to appeal to his father. If they were lucky, they'd be able to discern the truth and move to the offensive. But whether they got lucky or not didn't matter to him.

He had a longer term strategy in mind.

It was all about influencing and eliciting the responses he wanted from others.