Transmigrated as the Crown Prince's Mate-Chapter 149: Awakening...

A gasp escaped his throat as he shot upright, cold air rushing into his lungs like a drowning man gasping for breath above the surface of the sea.

"Lord Luther!"

His body shook for a moment, with feelings of heat and cold surging through his veins. His head throbbed as if two different sets of memories were clashing—each trying to take control.

Luther’s golden eyes darted around the dimly lit infirmary, but in his mind, he wasn’t in a stone-walled palace. No. This isn’t right. This isn’t where I’m supposed to be.

His hands gripped the bed tightly. He could still feel the intense, searing pain of teeth piercing his skin, the creature’s claws ripping into him. Warm blood flowed from his body onto the ground in the forest.

But then—

A different death.

He was choking, with smoke filling his lungs.

A heavy weight pressed down on him, and his voice came out weak and gasping as he cried, "Your Majesty!" He threw himself in front of a man wearing royal robes.

And then—nothing.

No breath. No heartbeat.

Yet here he was.

And they were calling him Luther.

But his name wasn’t Luther.

Tobias.

The name lingered in his thoughts, feeling both familiar and strange at the same time. He was breathing heavily, and his muscles were tight. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be here.

He should be dead.

A hand clamped onto his shoulder.

Luther—Tobias—flinched but quickly schooled his expression into blankness, turning to meet Damian’s sharp silver gaze.

"You scared the hell out of everyone," the prince muttered, though his usual confidence was laced with something else. Relief? Wariness?

Luther blinked slowly as if dazed. "What...?" His voice sounded hoarse, unfamiliar. No—familiar, but not mine. He exhaled sharply, choosing his next words carefully. "What happened?"

Damian studied him for a moment, his brows furrowing. "You almost died. Took a hit for my father."

Right. The beast. The hunt.

A fragmented piece of memory aligned with what Damian was saying, but it still felt... wrong.

"You don’t remember?" Damian asked, his sharp eyes narrowing.

Luther hesitated.

Now was not the time to panic.

His mind, sharper than it had ever been, calculated the odds. This wasn’t just a new place—this was a different world.

He dragged himself out of bed—even when Damian protested—and walked towards the window.

No skyscrapers, no cars, no hum of electricity, no distant drone of airplanes.

It was old. Ancient.

The air smelled of pine and damp stone, not pollution or the metallic tang of an urban city.

Am I in an alternate world of some sort?

If yes, if he was going to survive this, he needed to play along.

Luther exhaled and rubbed his temple. "It’s... foggy."

That was enough to make Damian pause.

"The healers said you might have some memory loss," Damian admitted, crossing his arms. "Not surprising, considering you died."

Luther—no, Tobias—forced a half-smile. "And yet, here I am."

Damian huffed. "Lucky bastard."

Luther ignored the healers’ orders.

His body still ached, but he had recovered impossibly fast—another thing to add to the growing list of what the hell is happening to me? Whatever this is, it’s definitely unnatural.

He slipped out of the infirmary and moved through the quiet halls of the palace. The corridors were lit by flickering torches, casting long shadows against the ancient stone.

Outside, the sky was painted in hues of orange and violet, the scent of burning wood and wildflowers thick in the air.

No streetlights. No neon signs.

The towering buildings of his past life—those steel and glass constructs that had defined home—were gone.

Instead, a palace stood tall and strong like a stone fortress from a history book, surrounded by open fields and dense forests.

A shiver ran down his spine.

This wasn’t just another city. This wasn’t even the same world.

Was this an alternate reality? Some cruel afterlife?

Or... had he been reborn?

"Luther."

He turned sharply, masking his tension as Damian approached.

The prince looked... hesitant. Not something he was used to seeing.

"I thought you were still resting," Damian remarked, eyeing him.

Luther exhaled. "I needed air."

Damian gave a small nod, then studied him. "Are you sure you’re alright? You’ve been acting... different."

Because I’m not Luther.

But he couldn’t say that.

Instead, he smirked, slipping back into what he assumed was Luther’s usual demeanor. "Almost dying does that to a man."

Damian snorted, crossing his arms. "Try actually dying."

Luther huffed out a quiet laugh, but his mind was racing.

He needed more information.

And then, as if the gods themselves wanted to toy with him, another memory surfaced.

Not of his past life.

But of Luther’s.

A cold night. A battlefield littered with bodies. Smoke and fire.

And a king standing over him, offering his hand.

King Lucian.

The man who had destroyed his family.

The realization nearly knocked the breath from his lungs.

Luther—no, Tobias—felt something dark coil in his chest. The real Luther had hated the king. Had spent years pretending to be loyal while planning his revenge.

The memories were fragmented, but the intention was clear.

Luther had wanted to take the throne.

And now...

Now he had that knowledge.

A slow smirk curled at the edges of his lips.

This world might have stolen him from his real life, but it had also given him an opportunity.

He turned his attention back to Damian, who was still watching him carefully.

"I’m fine," Luther finally said. "Better than fine, actually."

Damian raised a brow. "Good. Because my father wants to see you."

Perfect.

**************

The throne room was massive, built from dark stone and decorated with banners bearing Arcadia’s crest. Golden light flickered from the chandeliers, but despite its grandeur, there was a coldness to it.

Lucian sat upon the high throne, his silver eyes assessing as Luther approached.

"You saved my life," the king’s voice was even, filled with gratitude.

Luther gave a respectful bow, his mind calculating every possible response.

"You would’ve done the same for me, Your Majesty."

Lucian let out a quiet chuckle. "Would I?" He leaned forward, studying him. "It was reckless. You could’ve died."

I did die.

Instead, Luther merely shrugged. "I knew the risks."

Lucian’s gaze didn’t waver. "You are loyal, Luther."

If only you knew the truth.

"I do what must be done," Luther said smoothly.

Lucian smirked slightly as if amused. "A quality of a good advisor."

Luther tilted his head, his own smirk faint. "A quality of a king."

For a fraction of a second, Lucian’s expression changed—so briefly that most wouldn’t have noticed.

But Luther did.

The seed had been planted.

And just like that, Tobias—now Luther—set his sights on the throne.

FLASHBACK ENDS...