CHAPTER 56: UP TO FATE

Alexander exhaled sharply, fists clenching at his sides. "They didn’t even give us time to breathe. She just returned."

Amiel rubbed his temples. "And arranged marriage? Seriously? In this era? The Emperor really dug into the archives for this one."

Ahce stood quietly between them, pulse steady but cold. She wasn’t sure how she felt. Not after everything else.

They moved to the side sitting chamber, smaller and more private, but tension still clung to the air.

Amiel threw himself into a seat, frustration radiating from him. "So let me get this straight. Ahce... needs to marry the Empress’s youngest nephew?"

Alexander nodded grimly. "That’s what the decree says."

Amiel groaned into his hands. "Brother, the age gap. It’s wrong. Very wrong. Yes, Ahce is our baby sister, but she’s already twenty-nine. And that boy is..."

"Twenty-two." Alexander finished. "Seven years younger."

Amiel flopped back, expression incredulous. "Seven! And they think this is a good political match?"

"They don’t care about her age," Alexander said darkly. "They care about alliances. And the Jing Dutchy isn’t just anybody. It’s the Empress’s bloodline."

"Right," Amiel muttered. "The same Empress who gave the Emperor twenty kids."

"Twenty heirs," Alexander corrected. "A dynasty on her own."

Ahce listened quietly, watching the tension twine between her brothers like two wolves pacing the same cage.

Alexander leaned forward, lowering his voice. "But don’t underestimate this nephew."

Amiel grimaced. "Don’t remind me."

"He’s young," Alexander said, "but he’s held command of the northern military for five years."

Ahce blinked. "At seventeen?"

"Yes." Alexander’s tone sharpened. "He was promoted as a prodigy. A Marshal before he even reached adulthood. The youngest in recorded history."

Amiel dragged a hand down his face. "Honestly, that makes it worse. He’s powerful, infamous, and still practically a kid. The Emperor is playing games."

Ahce finally spoke, voice soft. "How did the Emperor even know I arrived? I’ve barely stepped outside."

Alexander’s expression turned into steel. "The moment your identity registered in the capital’s gene network, it became public to every upper-tier authority. The Emperor probably knew before we even docked."

Amiel kicked the leg of the couch. "Damn it. Couldn’t we at least have one week? One day?"

Ahce looked down at her hands.

A thousand years torn from her. A lost home. A new family she barely understood. And now this... a marriage decreed by a ruler she had never met.

Her chest tightened with something small and unbearable. She wasn’t sure what scared her more...

The decree itself.

Or how little she still belonged in this world.

I am new to this world.

But it seems like fate doesn’t want me to have a breather. I don’t even have the luxury of time to adjust in the world I’m in. Yet here I am, another marriage was presented to me.

Will this be the last marriage?

Ahce needed knowledge.

The kind of knowledge that could stitch her into this era, anchor her to the reality she had been forced into. She felt like a ghost drifting through someone else’s life, and the only way to stop floating was to understand everything.

So the moment Amiel and Alexander presented her with an optical brain, she treated it like a lifeline. The device looked deceptively simple, a silver-white bracelet with a shimmering core that reacted to her pulse.

But once it bonded with her skin, it flooded her senses with possibilities. It held her identity, her records, and access to the entire interstellar network. A personalized quantum computer wrapped around her wrist. Without it, she wasn’t a true citizen. With it, she had a key to the galaxy.

She wasn’t prepared for the way it hummed softly, as if acknowledging her. A faint warmth bloomed along her forearm, followed by a cascade of holographic symbols unfolding like glowing petals.

Ahce blinked, startled. Everything here looked like magic, but moved with logic older than she was.

She spent the next days absorbing information like a sponge so desperate it feared drying out. She enrolled in every course available, interstellar common laws, star route navigation basics, modern cultural etiquette, elemental physics of artificially stabilized planets, and even courses on interstellar cuisine that made her grimace at the memory of last night’s dinner.

Alexander teased her for taking too many subjects, but she could see the pride in his eyes. Amiel just shook his head and set up a learning schedule for her, concerned she’d collapse before finishing the first module.

The virtual world, however, was the part she dreaded. It was too vast. Too real. Too different.

When she activated her first VR learning environment, she felt as if she stepped into an ocean of light. Buildings rose like transparent crystal, data streams flowed like rivers under her feet, and avatars drifted past her with neon trails. Even the air felt programmable, with digital particles responding to breath and movement.

But the moment she faltered, the moment she hesitated like a child lost in a mall, she pressed a hand to her chest and reminded herself...

She had lived two lives.

She had survived death.

She would not be defeated by a hologram.

Slowly, she forced herself to adapt. To walk through virtual lecture halls. To join study groups formed by strangers scattered across the galaxy. To ask AI tutors to repeat theories she barely understood.

Within a week, she was navigating the virtual city with confidence. Within two, she was answering advanced modules that made Alexander raise a brow. Within three, she could almost forget she didn’t belong here. Almost.

Some nights, she lay in the dark, the bracelet glowing faintly beside her pillow, and wondered if learning everything about this world would erase the last of her old one.

But every morning, she woke up, slid the optical brain onto her wrist, and continued.

She needed knowledge. She needed purpose. And above all, she needed to be strong enough for whatever the imperial decree had set into motion.

The galaxy didn’t slow down for the lost.

And Ahce refused to be left behind.

Fitting into the social norms of this era turned out to be harder than absorbing data or memorizing star maps. Knowledge could be studied. Skills could be trained. But social norms? Those had to be lived, breathed, absorbed through osmosis. And Ahce had none of that.

Her first hurdle came the moment she stepped outside their estate. The capital star was dazzling. Too dazzling for her liking. Buildings curved like silver ribbons, floating transit pods whizzed overhead, and people walked in symmetrical streams guided by invisible lane lights.

Everyone wore form-fitting outfits made of smart fabric that adjusted to temperature and body rhythm. Even the way they greeted each other was different. A subtle tap of the optical brain, a flicker of holographic acknowledgment, or a soft pulse of light between bracelets to show familiarity.

Ahce tried to mimic it.