That Time I Got Reincarnated as a King (Old Version)

The morning air cut like glass—cold, clean, and threaded with dew that clung to boots like old regrets. Kael stood at the edge of Emberleaf's central square, arms folded tight, eyes locked on the sealed scroll in his hand.

The wax seal shimmered crimson, the royal crest of House Drayke pressed deep into its surface. A faint pulse from the embedded tracking rune beat like a second heartbeat—unmistakable, inescapable. Even the parchment itself smelled of marble halls, spiced ink, and bloodless negotiations.

Behind him, Nanari snorted. "Think they timed it just to ruin breakfast?"

"Wouldn't put it past them," Kael muttered. "Nobles live for this kind of melodrama."

Rimuru hovered at shoulder-height, a soft blue glow pulsing under her translucent surface. For once, she didn't bounce. She didn't spin. She just watched.

"She knows," Nanari murmured. "She doesn't like it."

Kael tapped the scroll absently against his palm. "Neither do I."

Silence fell—tense, heavy. In the distance, goblins murmured as they swept the walkways, their brooms hissing against the stone. A hammer rang out from a scaffolded watchtower. The village stirred, unaware or uncaring of the summons in Kael's hand.

Great Sage:
"Designation: High Priority Summons. Source: Royal Court of Emberhollow. Suggested response: Comply. Travel route calculated. Risk index: Moderate."

Kael sighed. "Thanks, Great Sage. That was… incredibly comforting."

Nanari crossed her arms. "You're really going through with this?"

Kael gave a half-shrug, more armor than answer. "Just me, Rimuru, and Nyaro. I'm not marching in with a banner—just showing them what I've made."

Nanari arched a brow. "So… like a kid showing off his new shoes?"

He smirked. "Exactly that."

She reached into her satchel and pulled out a slim bracelet—black thread laced with faintly glowing green vines. "Emergency beacon. Crush it, we come running."

Kael took it, tucked it into his sleeve. "Thanks."

He turned toward the southern trail, where the trees waited like sentinels. Rimuru bounced after him, and Nyaro, silent and golden-furred, fell into step.

"Let's go meet the lions."

The capital hadn't changed its skin—just its soul.

Emberhollow was still red roofs and spiraled towers, cobbled markets thick with spice smoke and shouted bargains. Lanterns swung from wrought-iron posts, their light soft in the morning haze.

But something was different.

People paused mid-step. Some whispered, others pointed. A few dropped into stiff, uncertain bows.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Kael walked steadily down the avenue, cloak trailing behind him like a second shadow. Rimuru perched on his shoulder, glowing faintly like she owned the street. Nyaro's steps made no sound, but her presence did—an elegant, towering reminder of power not to be questioned.

At the palace gates, the guards parted without a word.

Kael didn't walk like a five-year-old.

He walked like a leader.

The Grand Hall glowed with filtered sunlight, its vaulted ceiling catching every glint of gold and glass. Banners lined the walls—House Drayke's crimson serpent coiled among them.

The Queen sat in a high-backed throne beside the King, her eyes calm, calculating. The King—older now, but no less sharp—watched the doors with quiet expectation. Flanking them stood advisors, old knights, and familiar faces from Kael's half-remembered childhood. A few had helped raise him. Others had judged him since birth.

Kael stepped forward, cloak brushing the marble as he crossed the hall. He stopped just short of the dais.

"Prince Kael Drayke of House Drayke," the attendant announced, though none needed the reminder.

The King's expression was unreadable.

But the Queen's eyes softened when she saw Rimuru and Nyaro.

Without a word, Rimuru drifted down from Kael's shoulder and floated into the Queen's lap, settling there like she belonged.

The room froze.

The Queen blinked… then smiled. Her hand gently rested on Rimuru's head.

Kael smiled too. "She approves."

The Queen let out a small laugh. "Then I am deeply honored."

The King stood, his voice steady. "You've been gone long, my son. The court has questions."

Kael nodded. "Then I hope they're ready for answers."

The King extended a hand. "Walk with me. Not as a father—but as a king to his heir."

They sat in a shaded alcove of the palace garden, where ivy curled like veins across the stone and fireflies blinked in the trees. Between them sat the Emberhollow strategy board—no wooden pieces here, just floating runes and flickers of mana that shifted with each move.

Kael went first. "You always let me win."

The King smiled faintly. "And now you'll have to earn it."

They played in silence at first—mana sparking gently as pieces leapt and collided. But beneath the game, the real conversation began. Of power. Of compromise. Of knowing when to build… and when to burn.

Kael listened—not like a boy trying to impress his father, but like a man weighing the shape of a future he would have to carry.

"I won't rule like you," he said at last.

"I'd be disappointed if you did," the King said, with the faintest smile.

Kael made the final move. The board dimmed.

He won.

Later that night, firelight danced across the Queen's chambers, casting long shadows on the stone walls and whispering secrets through the curtains.

Kael sat cross-legged on a cushion. The Queen poured tea.

Then he said, quietly, "I wasn't born here."

She looked at him.

"I was seventeen when I died. A truck hit me—in another world."

Silence.

But not disbelief. Not horror.

She nodded slowly. "I always knew there was something strange about you. Not wrong. Just… older."

She told him a story. A fairy tale, half-forgotten.

About a boy born under a cursed moon. A boy who remembered things before they happened, who heard voices no one else could hear, who would one day start a fire no throne could contain.

"You remind me of him," she said. "But you're real."

Kael smiled, soft and tired.

Rimuru floated over and nestled into the Queen's lap again.

The Queen didn't flinch. She stroked the slime's head gently, her gaze never leaving Kael.

"Then the world chose you," she said. "Not by blood. But by soul."

Back in the Grand Hall, the court gathered like wolves in velvet.

The King stood beside Kael, voice steady, clear.

"He has carved order from chaos. Forged peace with the wild. Named what was forgotten. He has earned his place."

A ripple of murmurs passed through the room.

The Queen added, "From this day, let it be known—Prince Kael Drayke is Steward of Emberleaf. His claim is not to be questioned."

Kael stood still, spine straight, heart steady.

Rimuru glowed in the Queen's lap like a beacon.

Nyaro sat by the stairs, a living statue.

Kael bowed. Just enough.

Then he turned and walked out of the hall, cloak trailing behind him, the weight of a kingdom flickering behind his eyes.

And fire—quiet, unyielding—still burned in his chest.