I'm possessing the Second Male Lead of a Romance Novel

Elliot found himself sitting in the prince's private garden, the vivid colors of an alien world stretching out before him. It had been only a week since he had been thrust into this body, this life, and he still hadn't entirely come to terms with what had happened.

He'd resigned himself to the role of Prince Aedric's "playmate," a glorified servant meant to entertain the crown prince, though it felt more like babysitting an unpredictable tornado.

Aedric was only six years old, and yet he carried himself with the entitlement of a man twice his age. His dark hair framed a pale face, and his sharp, dark eyes held a haughty air that made Elliot's attempts to keep up all the more daunting. The prince was relentless, moving from one activity to another with the energy of someone who'd never known exhaustion—or restraint.

"Elias! Keep up!" Aedric shouted, his voice high and commanding. He was standing on a low stone wall, balancing precariously as if daring gravity to challenge him.

Elliot, now inhabiting the body of a boy named Elias, scrambled to follow. His legs were shorter, his movements clumsier than he remembered. He stumbled over a root hidden beneath the grass and barely managed to catch himself before face-planting into the dirt.

"Yes, Your Highness," Elliot called, trying to mask his frustration. His head still spun from the strange new world he was navigating, and Aedric's boundless energy left little room for reflection or adjustment.

The prince huffed dramatically. "You're so slow! How are you supposed to keep up with me if you can't even walk properly?"

Elliot bit back a retort. He had no idea how to handle children—least of all a royal one who had probably never heard the word "no" in his life. Instead, he quickened his pace, trying to anticipate Aedric's next move. The prince's mood was as unpredictable as the wind, and Elliot had learned quickly that keeping him entertained was a matter of survival.

But the day only grew more chaotic. Aedric decided they would play knights and monsters, assigning Elliot the role of the monster—naturally. The prince charged at him with a wooden sword, shouting battle cries and demanding that Elliot "fall dramatically." When Elliot's "fall" didn't meet the prince's exacting standards, Aedric threw down his sword in a fit.

"That was terrible!" Aedric yelled, his face red with frustration. "You're supposed to make it look real! You're ruining everything!"

Elliot's patience, already worn thin, snapped. "I'm doing my best," he said, his voice sharper than he intended. "Maybe you could give better instructions if you want it done a certain way."

The garden fell silent. Aedric stared at him, his mouth slightly open in shock. Then his face crumpled into a scowl, and he stomped his foot.

"How dare you speak to me like that!" the prince shrieked. "You're supposed to do what I say! You're just a servant!"

Before Elliot could apologize or explain, Aedric stormed off, leaving him standing alone in the garden. The other servants, who had been watching from a respectful distance, descended upon him like a flock of angry birds.

"What were you thinking?" one of them hissed, a middle-aged woman with a stern face. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused?"

"The prince's happiness is your responsibility," another added. "If he's upset, it's your fault. You need to be more careful."

Elliot bristled at their scolding but said nothing. He knew they were right—at least in the context of this world's rigid hierarchy. Still, he couldn't help but feel a pang of resentment. How was he supposed to keep up with a child who didn't care about anyone else's comfort?

By the time he returned to his quarters that evening, he was thoroughly drained. The small room he'd been given was a far cry from his old life, but it was at least a place where he could collapse in peace. He flopped onto the narrow bed, staring at the wooden ceiling above him.

"Why me?" he muttered to himself. "Of all the people to end up here, why did it have to be me?"

The system's voice, cold and detached, echoed in his mind. [Your authority level is insufficient to access that information.]

Elliot groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. "Yeah, thanks for nothing."

The system didn't respond, leaving him alone with his thoughts. As much as he wanted to rage against the unfairness of his situation, he knew it wouldn't change anything. He had no choice but to adapt—to survive. And if that meant playing along with Aedric's whims, so be it.

"Tomorrow will be better," he told himself, though he wasn't sure he believed it. For now, all he could do was close his eyes and hope that sleep would bring some measure of relief.

___

The next morning, Elliot reported for duty in the east courtyard, where Prince Aedric often began his day. Despite the early hour, the space buzzed with activity—servants bustled about, knights polished their armor, and a small group of children, all around Aedric's age, practiced sparring under the watchful eye of a royal instructor.

Elliot hesitated at the edge of the courtyard, observing the scene. It was easy to spot Aedric—a striking boy with golden-blond hair and piercing blue eyes, clad in pristine training clothes. Even at six years old, the prince exuded an air of authority.

"Elias!" a sharp voice called.

Elliot turned to see a steward gesturing impatiently. "The prince is expecting you. Don't keep him waiting."

Suppressing a sigh, Elliot crossed the courtyard and approached the young prince, who was engaged in a mock duel with another child. Aedric glanced at Elliot briefly but didn't acknowledge him.

"Your Highness," Elliot said, bowing respectfully.

The duel ended with Aedric disarming his opponent, and the prince finally turned his full attention to Elliot. "You're the new attendant?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

Aedric's gaze was sharp, assessing. "You're smaller than I expected. Can you even keep up with me?"

Elliot's lips twitched at the challenge in the boy's tone. "I'll do my best, Your Highness."

Aedric smirked, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "We'll see."

What followed was a whirlwind of activities: sparring lessons, horseback riding, and even a brief session of strategy games. Elliot did his best to keep up with the prince, but it quickly became clear that Aedric's stamina and determination far outstripped his own.

By the afternoon, Elliot was thoroughly exhausted. He pushed himself to match Aedric's energy, unwilling to appear weak or incapable. However, during a particularly intense game of tag, his foot caught on an uneven stone, and he fell hard onto the ground. Pain shot through his ankle, and his vision blurred as he struggled to stay conscious.

"Elias!" Aedric's voice sounded distant, laced with concern.

The last thing Elliot saw before everything went dark was the prince kneeling beside him.

When Elliot woke, he was back in his chambers, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of a single lantern. A sharp ache pulsed in his ankle, now bandaged and elevated on a cushion.

"Awake, are we?" a stern voice said.

Elliot turned his head to see a maid standing by the door, arms crossed. She was older, with a no-nonsense demeanor that made him instinctively sit up straighter.

"You've caused quite the stir today," she said, her tone brisk. "Collapsing in front of the prince like that. Do you have any idea how reckless you've been?"

Elliot opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off.

"Don't bother with excuses. You've embarrassed yourself and wasted the prince's time. As punishment, you'll go without supper tonight. Maybe that'll teach you to be more mindful of your limits."

Her words stung, but Elliot bit back a retort. He was too drained—physically and emotionally—to argue.

"Rest up," the maid continued, softening slightly. "You'll need your strength if you're going to survive in this palace."

With that, she left, leaving Elliot alone with his thoughts.

Elliot stared at the ceiling, frustration bubbling within him. He hadn't asked for any of this—not the system, not the strange new world, and certainly not the impossible task of keeping up with a crown prince. Yet, here he was, navigating a life he barely understood.

"I guess I don't have a choice," he muttered to himself.

For now, survival was his priority. He would figure out the rest later.

______

Elliot lay in his bed, staring at the ornate canopy above. The soft glow of moonlight filtered through the thin curtains, casting silver streaks across the room. His ankle throbbed faintly, but it was nothing compared to the gnawing ache in his stomach.

He shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the hunger clawing at him. It's just one meal. You've gone longer without eating before. But the emptiness was persistent, and as the minutes dragged on, it became impossible to ignore.

He tossed and turned, hoping to will the sensation away, but it only grew worse. With each growl of his stomach, the stillness of the room seemed to amplify the sound, making it impossible to focus on anything else.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, sitting up. The maid's words echoed in his mind: You'll go without supper tonight. Maybe that'll teach you...

He hesitated, knowing full well that sneaking out after being explicitly punished could land him in deeper trouble. But the hunger wouldn't relent. He rubbed his temples, debating with himself. He'd already learned today how harsh the palace's expectations were, but his body was screaming at him, and the thought of lying awake all night like this was unbearable.

"Fine," he whispered, throwing off the covers. "I'll just grab something small. Quick and quiet."

The hallways were eerily silent as Elliot slipped out of his chambers, his bare feet padding softly on the cool stone floors. He clutched a blanket around his shoulders to ward off the chill, moving carefully to avoid making noise. The palace at night was a different world—its grandeur shrouded in shadows, with only the occasional torchlight flickering against the walls.

Elliot kept to the edges of the corridors, his heart pounding with every step. Despite the silence, he couldn't shake the feeling that eyes were watching him from every corner. His thoughts spiraled into paranoia as he imagined guards, maids, or even the prince himself catching him in the act.

He navigated by memory, recalling the layout of the palace he'd observed during the day. The kitchens weren't far, just down the main hall and to the left. But getting there unnoticed felt like crossing enemy lines.

Halfway there, he heard a faint rustle. Elliot froze, pressing himself against the wall and holding his breath. The sound grew louder—approaching footsteps. His mind raced, searching for an escape. A nearby alcove offered just enough cover, and he darted into it, wrapping the blanket tightly around himself.

The footsteps passed by, accompanied by the low murmur of two guards deep in conversation. Elliot waited until the sound faded completely before stepping out, his legs trembling slightly.

"This is insane," he whispered, but hunger drove him forward.

When he finally reached the kitchens, relief washed over him. The heavy wooden door was ajar, and no light flickered from within, signaling that the space was empty. Elliot slipped inside, his eyes adjusting to the darkness.

The room smelled faintly of spices and baked bread, though most of the food had already been cleared away for the night. His gaze swept over the counters, searching for anything edible. There—a basket of apples sat on a shelf, the fruit gleaming faintly in the moonlight.

Elliot hurried over, his stomach growling in anticipation. He grabbed an apple and sank his teeth into it, the sweetness flooding his senses. It wasn't much, but it was enough to quell the hunger that had driven him to this reckless endeavor.

He finished the first apple quickly and reached for a second, his movements less frantic now. As he chewed, he leaned against the counter, letting himself relax for the first time all night.

Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all, he thought, though the weight of his punishment still lingered in the back of his mind. He'd deal with the consequences later. For now, all that mattered was the momentary reprieve from hunger.

Food was the only thing on his mind at the moment.

Elliot has no idea when the first apple finished, and when he started on the second one.

Just as he finished the second apple, a voice broke through the silence: "What do you think you're doing? Do you have any idea what this can cost you?"