Forbidden Desires: Conquering Kingdoms And Women In a Fantasy World!

After Isadora's departure. The maid who had been waiting respectfully by the doorway stepped forward with a gentle curtsy.

"If you would follow me, young master Harold," she said. "The Viscount has prepared quarters for you on the second floor."

Creon was surely pampering me beyond anything I could have expected. The deference he'd shown toward Isadora earlier still puzzled me—there had been something almost reverent in his manner, as if he owed her a debt that went far deeper than simple gratitude. What history lay between them? What had transpired to create such unwavering loyalty? The questions gnawed at me, but I pushed them aside for now. Whatever their past, I was grateful for the present circumstances.

From what little I'd observed, Creon seemed to be a man of genuine character, and his daughter Alicia was good as well. At least my life outside the academy walls would be comfortable—perhaps even pleasant.

The maid stopped before an ornate wooden door, its surface carved with intricate vine patterns. "Your quarters, young master," she announced, pushing the door open.

I stepped inside. The room was easily five times the size of my room in Millbrook. A four-poster bed dominated one corner, its deep blue curtains matching the rich carpet beneath my feet. Tall windows looked out over manicured gardens where evening shadows were beginning to lengthen.

"The Viscount hopes everything meets with your approval," the maid said, noting my wide-eyed expression with a barely concealed smile. "Dinner will be served in an hour, should you wish to refresh yourself."

After she departed with another curtsy, I closed the door and set down my travel bag.

I explored my new domain with careful steps, running my fingers along the smooth wood of the furniture, testing the softness of the mattress, marveling at the quality of everything around me. But it was the bathroom that truly stole my breath away.

The space was larger than our entire kitchen back home, with a marble bathtub that could easily accommodate two people. Copper pipes gleamed against cream-colored walls, and when I turned the ornate handles, steaming water flowed forth as if summoned by magic itself.

Hot water—readily available, unlimited, luxurious hot water. In Millbrook, warm baths were rare treasures, usually reserved for the sick or for special occasions when we could afford to heat enough water over the fire. Here, it seemed as commonplace as breathing for the nobility.

I sank into the steaming water with a groan of pure pleasure, feeling days of travel grime and tiredness wash away. The heat penetrated muscles I hadn't realized were tense, and for the first time since leaving home, I allowed myself to truly relax.

After what felt like an eternity but was probably only half an hour, I reluctantly emerged from my bath and donned fresh clothes from my bag. The simple linen felt rough against skin that had grown accustomed to silk-soft water, but I was grateful to be clean and presentable.

Unpacking proved to be a swift affair—my worldly possessions filled only a fraction of the available storage space. Clothes went into a wardrobe that could have housed the entire village's best garments. My few books, worn from countless readings, found places of honor on shelves that had clearly been built for extensive libraries. I set my bow and quiver carefully in a corner, ensuring they remained easily accessible.

The concoction vials required more careful handling. Each glass container held hours of work and rare ingredients. I arranged them in a small wooden box, cushioned with fabric scraps, and placed it where morning light would reveal any changes in color or consistency.

When everything was in its place, I paused to truly absorb my surroundings once more.

Eventually, the sound of distant conversations and the aroma of cooking food drew me from my reverie. I descended the grand staircase, my footsteps echoing softly against polished wood.

As I reached the main floor, I became aware of movement in my peripheral vision. The household staff—maids carrying linens, footmen adjusting decorative pieces, a butler directing the evening preparations—had all frozen mid-task. Their eyes found my face and widened in unmistakable shock, taking in my unusual appearance with barely concealed fascination.

Even though their master and young lady had literally green hair, it seems the combination of white hair and pink eyes was even more striking.

The servants quickly averted their gazes when they realized they'd been caught staring, returning to their duties with flushed cheeks and whispered conversations I pretended not to hear. I couldn't blame them—if I encountered someone with my appearance, I'd probably stare too.

The dining hall opened before me then. Silver serving dishes gleamed like mirrors, and the table itself was a masterpiece that could have seated ten people comfortably. But tonight, it was set for three.

Creon sat at the head of the table, his posture relaxed but dignified, while Alicia occupied a seat to his right. Both looked up as I entered. The aroma that had drawn me downstairs hit me full force—roasted meats, fresh bread, herbs I could identify easily actually after learning from Isabella.

This was weird as hell actually how easily I could tell each herbs just by a mere sniff of it.

"You didn't have to wait for me," I said, suddenly acutely aware of how my simple clothing contrasted with their elegant dinner attire.

Creon waved away my concern with a gesture that somehow managed to be both dismissive and welcoming. "We didn't wait long, and besides, you're part of this household now, Harold. Come, join us and don't be shy about asking for anything you need."

"Yes, please sit with us," Alicia added, her smile bright and genuine.

I took the seat Creon indicated, directly across from Alicia and beside the Viscount himself. The chair was more comfortable than any I'd ever experienced, its cushions perfectly shaped to provide support without being ostentatious. From this vantage point, I could see the full spread of the evening meal, and my stomach responded with an embarrassing rumble.

How long had it been since I'd seen such abundance? Such variety? Roasted chicken glistened with herbs I couldn't name, its skin crackling and golden. Vegetables I recognized sat alongside others that were completely foreign—root vegetables glazed with honey, leafy greens that sparkled with what looked like edible flowers, and sauces in colors ranging from deep amber to forest green.

Sixteen years, came the unbidden thought. That's how long it had been since I'd seen luxury like this. Back when I was James Trevills, before this strange second life, when professional chefs prepared elaborate meals as a matter of course. The memory felt distant now, like something from a half-remembered dream, but the familiarity of abundance stirred something deep in my chest.

"Well then, let's eat," Creon announced, lifting his wine glass in a casual toast. "To new beginnings and unexpected friendships."

As the servants began bringing dishes around, I found myself overwhelmed by choices. "I'll try the chicken first," I managed to say to the maid who approached with a serving platter.

The meat was perfection—tender enough to cut with a fork, seasoned with a blend of spices that made my mouth water even as I chewed. Juices ran across my tongue, carrying flavors I'd never experienced but somehow recognized as the way food was supposed to taste when prepared by true masters of their craft.

"Is it to your taste?" Creon asked, noting my obvious appreciation with an amused expression.

"It's incredible," I admitted, not bothering to hide my amazement. "It's been... well, it's been a very long time since I've eaten anything this luxurious."

"Then eat as much as you like," he encouraged. "Growing boys need proper nutrition, especially those preparing for the challenges of the academy."

I nodded gratefully and continued eating, but curiosity eventually overcame even the distraction of excellent food. "If I may ask, Viscount—who exactly is Isadora to you? The way you spoke to her earlier suggested a history between you."

Creon's expression grew thoughtful, his fingers absently turning his wine glass as he considered his answer. When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of genuine gratitude mixed with old pain.

"I would say I am deeply indebted to Isadora. She saved my life once, in circumstances I won't burden you with tonight, and her actions are the reason I'm able to sit here with my daughter, in this home, living the life I do. Without her intervention..." He trailed off, then shook his head with a slight smile. "Well, let's just say I owe her more than I could ever repay."

The weight of that statement settled over the table for a moment before Creon brightened, clearly deciding to shift to lighter topics. "But what about you, Harold? Isadora told me very little about your background, and I think it's a perfect opportunity for Alicia and me to learn more about our newest household member."

Alicia leaned forward slightly, her eyes bright with curiosity.

I set down my fork and took a small sip of the wine that had been poured for me.

"I'm from a small village in the southeast of Lorendia called Millbrook," I began, choosing my words carefully. "It's the kind of place where everyone knows everyone else's business, and excitement usually consists of market day or the occasional traveling merchant. I live there with my mother and my older sister."

"Isadora has a cottage in the forest near our village," I continued. "When she offered to teach magic to a few of the village children, including my sister, it caused quite a stir."

Alicia's eyes widened. "She taught your sister magic too?"

"She did." I gestured vaguely, not wanting to go into specifics about how Rosaluna was actually a monster. "I began studying with her about three years ago, and she's been an incredible teacher. Patient, knowledgeable, and..." I searched for the right words. "She sees potential in people that they might not see in themselves."

"That sounds like the Lady Isadora I know," Creon said with a chuckle. "She has a gift for finding diamonds in the rough and polishing them until they shine."

The conversation continued as we worked our way through course after course. Alicia asked about life in Millbrook, seeming genuinely fascinated by descriptions of village festivals and simple pleasures that were foreign to her urban noble experience. Creon inquired about my studies, his questions probing but not intrusive, clearly trying to gauge what sort of young man he'd agreed to house.

After the final course was cleared away, Creon rose from his seat. He glanced at a pocket watch that gleamed gold in the lamplight, and I caught a flicker of something—concern? Urgency?—cross his features before his usual warm smile returned.

"I'm afraid duty calls," he said, adjusting his jacket with the resigned air of someone who'd grown accustomed to interrupted evenings. "Harold, please make yourself completely at home. Alicia, would you mind filling our guest in on what he can expect tomorrow at the academy entrance examination? You know the process better than anyone."

Alicia nodded eagerly. "Of course, Father. Don't worry about us."

Creon paused at the doorway, turning back with a paternal expression that encompassed both of us. "Don't stay up too late, you two. Tomorrow is an important day, and you'll want to be at your best." With that, he disappeared into the corridor, his footsteps echoing briefly before fading into the mansion's ambient sounds.

Left alone with Alicia, I felt a curious shift in the atmosphere. The formal dinner setting suddenly seemed less intimidating, more intimate. She gestured for me to follow her to a comfortable seating area near the great windows, where overstuffed chairs upholstered in deep burgundy leather invited relaxation.

"That sounds perfect," I replied, settling into one of the chairs.

"So let me tell you what you can expect tomorrow. The entrance examination has two main components, and they're both designed to separate the truly capable from those who merely think they are."

She took a delicate sip of a tea she had been served, organizing her thoughts before continuing. "First, we'll face a comprehensive written examination. It covers magical theory, of course—the fundamental principles that govern how magic works, the different schools of practice, basic spell construction. But they also test historical knowledge, particularly events involving magic users, famous mages, and significant magical disasters or breakthroughs."

"How detailed do they expect the historical knowledge to be?"

"Quite detailed, unfortunately," Alicia said with a slight grimace. "They believe that understanding how magic has been used—and misused—in the past helps prevent future catastrophes. Have you studied much history with Lady Isadora?"

"I did most on my own."

"T…That's impressive."

She clearly didn't seem convinced butt she had no idea of how many books I was capable of reading and I had read since my rebirth.

"Now, about the practical examination—that's where things get really interesting. They'll test not just your raw magical ability, but your control, creativity, and ability to perform under pressure. From what I've heard from students in previous years, they typically start with basic demonstrations—lighting a candle, moving objects, that sort of thing. But then they escalate quickly. They might ask you to solve a problem using magic, or demonstrate a spell you've never seen before based purely on verbal instructions."

"That sounds... hard," I said, trying not say my honest which were what the hell was this exam?

"It is, but that's the point. They want to see how you think when you're pushed beyond your comfort zone." Alicia's expression grew more serious. "There will be a lot of applicants tomorrow. Children from noble families who've had private tutors since they could walk, prodigies from magical bloodlines, students from preparatory academies... We'll need to find ways to distinguish ourselves from the crowd."

"You're worried about something specific, aren't you?" I said noticing her expression.

"Father has such faith in me," she said quietly. "He talks about my acceptance as if it's already guaranteed, tells his friends about his daughter who's going to attend the Royal Academy... But what if I'm not as good as he thinks I am? What if all his confidence is misplaced?"

She was fearing a failure and disappointing her parents.

A feeling I couldn't understand at all having grown with trash parents without counting Isabella obviously. She was a different case.

"Your father seems like a perceptive man," I said. "I doubt he'd stake his reputation on empty hope. But even if his confidence seems overwhelming, it comes from a place of love, doesn't it?"

"It does," she admitted, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Sometimes I think that makes it worse, though. Disappointing someone who believes in you feels so much heavier than disappointing someone who expects you to fail."

I nodded, understanding completely. "Well, for what it's worth, you seem pretty capable to me. And confidence really is half the battle—if you don't believe in yourself first, it's hard to convince anyone else to take that leap of faith."

"That's true..." Alicia mused, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "You seem quite confident yourself, Harold. Aren't you nervous at all about tomorrow?"

If I told her nervousness was a feeling for the weak she would surely not be pleased.

"I suppose I am confident," I said. "Not because I think I'm better than anyone else, but because I trust in the preparation I've had. Isadora doesn't teach half-measures—if she believes I'm ready for this, then I probably am."

"That must be nice," Alicia said with a trace of wistfulness, "having such absolute faith in your teacher's judgment."

"It is."

We sat in comfortable silence for a moment until Alicia straightened with renewed determination. "Well then, let's make sure we both succeed tomorrow. We can do our best and support each other through the process…um, Harold…" She said shyly.

"Of course Lady Alicia."

"Y…You don't have to call Lady…" She blushed."

"I will have to call you like that at the academy so I am just training," I replied.

"That is…" Alicia blushed once more in embarrassment before leaving.

Staring at her leaving, I leaned back on my chair and took her half finished tea cup and sipped in it.

"Now," I crossed my leg and smirked. "Let's see if those so called nobles are really worth it."