The morning light filtered through the ornate windows of the Eclipse estate, casting golden patterns across the marble floor.

Fallin Eclipse sat before his mirror, studying the face that was simultaneously his and not his.

"Three months," he murmured, running a hand through dark hair. "Three months since I died a hero... and woke up as the villain."

A soft knock at the door—different from the usual tentative rapping of servants. This knock was deliberate, unhurried.

"Fallin." His mother's voice, cool and measured. "Your father and I will be dining with you this evening. We have... matters to discuss."

His stomach tightened. The Duchess of Valeria didn't request dinners for idle conversation. He'd noticed her eyes on him lately—calculating, searching. The original Fallin's memories told him she was not a woman who missed details.

"Of course, Mother," he replied, voice carrying the practiced frost the real Fallin was famous for.

Her footsteps receded. Fallin exhaled and caught sight of a sword mounted on the wall—a relic from a hero's life no one here would ever understand.

"What would you do, old friend?" he whispered to the blade. "She's watching me. They both are. And I don't know how much longer I can pretend to be him."