The Imperial Capital's Young Scion and His Sleeping Remedy

My head was splitting.

It felt as if someone had smashed his skull with a blunt weapon, then stuffed it full of paste. Leon von Hohenzollern struggled to reclaim consciousness through an utterly uncomfortable haze.

The first thing to return was his sense of smell.

A crisp scent, carrying the faint aroma of books and some cold floral fragrance, lingered beneath his nose. Strangely, it eased his pounding headache. The smell was familiar—so familiar it seemed carved into his bones. He instinctively drew in a deep breath, like a desert traveler yearning for a spring.

Then came touch.

He discovered that he was lying on his side, apparently holding something... warm, soft, and remarkably supple. His arm was wrapped naturally and intimately around that body. Beneath his palm was smooth, delicate skin, and through a thin layer of silk sleepwear, he could distinctly feel the graceful curve of a slender waist.

Leon's heart jolted. The drunken haze in his mind instantly scattered by more than half. Stiffly, inch by inch, he forced open his heavy eyelids.

Dim morning light streamed through the expensive glass window, casting a faint glow across the room. It was enough for him to make out the scene before him—a cascade of dark brown hair lay slightly messily across the pillow. Several strands brushed playfully against his nose, making it itch. Amid the hair was a fair, elegant neck, its exquisite lines like those of a swan.

He was tightly embracing a young girl from behind in a posture that was anything but "innocent." She still seemed asleep, her breathing even and slow. Her body rose and fell gently with every breath, pressed against his chest.

"Damn..." A fragment of unfamiliar memory flashed through his mind, accompanied by intense panic. Did I get drunk last night and do something to some noble lady...?

Just as he was about to spring out of bed, a massive, chaotic flood of memories burst through without warning and poured madly into his mind.

Leon von Hohenzollern. Second son of the Hohenzollern Marquis of the Augustus Empire. Eighteen years old. This was the Imperial Capital, the residence of Countess Margaret von Strauss, chief mage of the Royal Academy of Magic. And the girl in his arms...

Elisa Windsor. Daughter of Charles Windsor, the second son of the Windsor family. The sole student of his Aunt Margaret, and also... his fiancée in name.

More details surfaced. For some reason—his memories were vague, but it seemed he had not suited the harsh environment of the Northern Frontier or the martial atmosphere of the Hohenzollern Family—the original Leon had not remained in the Northern Marquisate. Instead, he had been sent to the Imperial Capital from a young age to be raised by this powerful, high-ranking aunt. Elisa, as the link between the Windsor family and the Magic Academy, had also been sent to study magic under Aunt Margaret at the age of nine.

The two of them were true childhood sweethearts, having grown up together in the Imperial Capital. Their parents had arranged their engagement when they were very young, agreeing that they would formally marry at twenty.

Yet most of the memories related to the original owner made the current Leon's cheeks burn.

Arrogant and overbearing, bullying others, haunting gambling dens and taverns, spending money like water, throwing punches whenever a word displeased him... "The Imperial Capital's Number One Young Scion," "the Shame of the Hohenzollerns"—those were the most common descriptions others had for him in his memories. Even Aunt Margaret seemed to have adopted a half-neglectful attitude toward her worthless nephew. As long as he did not cause deaths that could not be cleaned up, she let him do as he pleased. Perhaps it was also her helpless way of answering to her sister and brother-in-law far away in the Northern Frontier.

But he had one extremely secret habit that did not fit the image of a "young scion" at all.

The original Leon was afraid of the dark.

Not ordinarily afraid. It was an almost instinctive psychological illness born from some profound childhood shadow—his memories remained vague. He did not dare sleep alone, especially in unfamiliar places, or rather, in this Count's Mansion that did not entirely belong to him.

And in the entire Count's Mansion, the only person who could make him feel safe and drive away the ever-present terror of darkness was the fiancée before him, Elisa Windsor.

Not because of Elisa herself, but because of the unique scent she carried—a cool fragrance touched by an almost imperceptible floral aroma. That scent seemed to possess soul-soothing magic. As long as he was close to her, the original Leon's restless heart, filled with fear, would miraculously calm down and let him sleep.

So, no one knew exactly when it had started. Probably after Elisa was twelve or thirteen and began sleeping in her own room, the original Leon developed an unshakable routine. Every night, after confirming that his aunt had gone to bed and the mansion had fallen silent, he would sneak into Elisa's room like a ghost, climb into her bed, and sleep while holding her as if she were his lifeline.

And Elisa... the Elisa in his memories seemed to have... tacitly allowed it.

Of course, she had resisted and screamed at first. But while the original Leon was a bastard, he possessed an almost animal-like dependence and stubbornness toward his little fiancée. After it happened time and again, perhaps she realized resistance was futile. Perhaps the engagement made her feel that it was "somewhat" "legitimate." Or perhaps her cool personality, focused entirely on magical research, made her think causing a fuss over it was a waste of energy. In any case, she accepted it.

Once, when the original Leon had pestered her beyond endurance, Elisa had coldly said, "Since I cannot resist, I can only accept it. Just think of it as having a large heated doll in the bed."

And that "acceptance" had lasted for years.

Having sorted through everything, the current Leon felt his scalp go numb.

He was a soul from the twenty-first century. He had woken up not only to find himself transported to another world, but directly in an unmarried girl's bed, in such an ambiguous position! They were engaged in name, sure, but this... this was way too intense!

He instinctively wanted to withdraw the arm around Elisa's waist, then silently roll out of bed and pretend nothing had happened.

However, the moment he applied the slightest force to his arm, the girl in his arms gave a faint sleepy hum. It was not resistance. Instead, as if her dreams had been disturbed, she instinctively curled deeper into his warm embrace, her back pressing tightly against his chest.

That soft, vibrant sensation made Leon's body go rigid. He did not dare move an inch.

This was bad...

He drew a deep breath and tried to calm his racing heart, while the unique cool fragrance on Elisa's body filled his senses more clearly. This scent truly had an extraordinary effect. He found that his chaotic emotions were gradually settling down.

Since he could not move for the moment, Leon could only force himself to accept the situation and carefully study the girl before him.

From his current angle, he could only see the outline of her profile and part of her cheek. Her skin was so fair it was almost translucent, glowing like jade in the faint morning light. Her long lashes resembled two little fans, casting pale shadows beneath her eyelids. Her nose was high and delicate, while her well-shaped lips were naturally light pink.

Though he had her appearance in his memories, seeing her this close still left Leon stunned. This girl truly was a beauty, one with a cold, distant elegance that carried an air of intelligence. At just seventeen, she already possessed the beginnings of breathtaking beauty.

Who would have imagined that such a cool, gifted young mage would be held to sleep every night by the Imperial Capital's greatest young scion? The image was simply too jarring.

Time passed little by little, and the sky outside the window grew brighter.

Leon maintained his stiff posture as his mind churned through plans for the future. Inheriting this body also meant inheriting the mess of being the "Imperial Capital's Number One Young Scion." His parents in the Northern Frontier, along with that incredibly formidable older brother of his, probably despised him for being such a disappointment. Aunt Margaret appeared not to care, but who knew where her limits lay? And then there was this... fiancée, Elisa.

Just as countless thoughts filled his mind, Elisa shifted in his arms.

Her breathing changed. It was no longer the long, steady rhythm of sleep, becoming slightly quicker instead. Then Leon saw her long eyelashes tremble a few times before she slowly opened her eyes.

They were exceptionally beautiful eyes, a rare violet color, as clear as the purest crystal. Yet there was none of the haze of waking in them. There was only their usual, nearly indifferent calm.

She was awake, yet she did not immediately rise. She did not even turn to look at Leon behind her. She simply gazed quietly toward the window, as though she had long grown accustomed to the sight before her.

Several seconds passed. Just as Leon was debating whether he should speak first or continue pretending to sleep, Elisa's cool voice broke the morning silence. It was slightly husky from sleep, but held no emotional fluctuation.

"Your hand can move now."

As though burned, Leon jerked back the hand that had been resting on her waist. The movement was so quick it nearly stirred up a gust of wind. Somewhat embarrassed, he shifted backward, trying to put some distance between them.

Only then did Elisa slowly turn over and lie on her back. Her violet eyes looked calmly and without ripples at him.

Their gazes met.

Leon's heart began racing again, utterly uncooperative. At this distance, her face was even more flawless, but her expression was so cold that she resembled a finely carved crystal statue.

"Uh... morning, Elisa." Leon squeezed out the dry greeting, feeling his face grow warm. He had inherited the original owner's memories and some of his instincts, but he had no experience with this sort of "waking up in the same bed" situation.

Elisa merely gave a faint "Mm" in response. Then she pushed herself upright. The neckline of her silk nightgown slipped slightly, revealing a delicate collarbone, but she paid it no mind and merely lifted a hand to straighten her somewhat messy hair.

"You woke earlier than usual today." As she arranged her hair, she stated the fact in a tone as flat as if she were saying the weather was nice.

Leon was momentarily speechless. Was he supposed to say, Because the person holding you has a different soul now, and I woke up terrified?

He rubbed his nose and vaguely replied, "Maybe... I slept better last night."

Elisa paused in the middle of fixing her hair. She tilted her head and glanced at him with violet eyes that seemed capable of seeing through people's hearts, her tone still flat. "Is that so? Then you do not need to come tonight."

Leon: "..."

This girl really did... get straight to the point.

He gave an awkward smile but did not answer. The original Leon could not sleep without that scent. He did not dare agree to that.

Elisa had not expected an answer. She simply threw back the soft down quilt, stepped barefoot onto the thick carpet, and walked toward the dressing table in the corner of the room. Her posture was straight, her steps light. Even in a nightgown, she carried the grace and composure unique to a mage.

Sitting on the bed, Leon watched her slender, lovely back, his heart full of mixed emotions. Was this the "fiancée" he would have to face from now on? A cold, intelligent, extraordinarily talented girl who, because of an engagement and some peculiar reason, had no choice but to tolerate his presence.

"Are you not getting up?" Elisa sat before the dressing table, picked up an ivory comb, and began brushing her long hair. She looked at Leon, who was still sitting on the bed, through the mirror. "Do you want Margaret to find out that you sneaked in again last night?"

Her tone gave no hint as to whether it was a threat or a simple reminder.

Leon jolted and immediately leaped out of bed. His memories told him that although Aunt Margaret likely knew about this—after all, it was difficult for anything to remain completely hidden in the residence of a Grand Archmage—she maintained a delicate attitude of "I do not know, and do not make me know." If they were caught face-to-face, the awkwardness would be enough to make someone want to dig out a three-bedroom apartment with their toes.

"I'm leaving now!" Leon hurriedly straightened his wrinkled silk pajamas and strode toward the balcony connecting the two rooms—his usual "secret passage."

Just as he pulled open the glass door and prepared to slip out, Elisa's voice sounded again. It remained as calm as ever, but it stopped him in his tracks.

"The Deputy Commander of the City Guard's son may come looking for you today."

Leon turned back and looked at her in confusion.

Elisa met his gaze through the mirror. A trace of faint, nearly imperceptible helplessness flashed through her violet eyes. "Did you forget? At the Golden Clover tavern the day before yesterday, you got drunk, smashed a wine bottle over his head, and swore you would have an Honor Duel with him today."

Leon: "!!!"

The relevant memories immediately surfaced: that arrogant young noble, the original Leon's drunken shouting, and the crowd egging them on... An Honor Duel? In his current state—this body drained by wine and women, which was the original owner's doing, and with his soul and body still not fully in sync after arriving in this world—he was supposed to duel the son of a City Guard officer who had most likely received proper training?

Was that not suicide?!

Seeing Leon's instantly frozen expression, Elisa had already finished combing her hair. She rose to her feet and began changing clothes. She did not avoid Leon, or rather, in her eyes, Leon perhaps really was no different from a "large doll."

As she elegantly fastened the buttons of her mage robe, she said in her distinctive, calm tone, "Do you need me to prepare a potion for external injuries? Or you could do what you did last time—slip out through the back door and hide on Nightingale Street for a day."

Leon opened his mouth and stared at the face in the mirror, both familiar and strange—the face belonging to Leon von Hohenzollern, the "Imperial Capital's Young Scion." An overwhelming sense of absurdity and pressure crashed down on him.

This opening was practically hell difficulty!

He drew a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. First, he had to deal with the immediate problem—that damned Honor Duel.

Then... he needed to think carefully about how to survive in this complicated, perilous Augustus Empire with such a terrible identity.

And this cold fiancée before him, this "human sleeping pill" with a calming body fragrance, was clearly someone he could neither avoid nor afford to take lightly.

"No." Leon heard his own voice, carrying a steadiness that surprised even him. "I'll handle it."

With that, he did not linger. He slipped out onto the balcony and gently pulled the door shut behind him. The cool morning air rushed against his face, refreshing him at once.

Elisa watched the balcony door close. For the first time, a faint trace of surprise passed through her violet eyes. Today's Leon seemed... somehow different.

But she quickly dismissed that trace of surprise. To her, whether Leon bravely kept his appointment or fled in disgrace made little difference. He was merely an unavoidable, slightly noisy interruption in her calm daily life devoted to magical research.

She walked to the window and pushed it open, gazing over the streets of the Imperial Capital as they gradually awakened. Her eyes had already turned toward the Royal Magic Tower rising into the clouds in the distance.

That was where the world she truly longed for lay.