Reborn as an SSS-Rank Guide in the Sentinel Academy [BL]

The Emperor stood up sharply, staring down at the small patch of gray, rotting skin like it might rearrange itself into something less impossible the longer he looked.

"how," he said, voice low and hard, "did you get this."

The fake Julian blinked up at him, expression sliding into something wide-eyed and lost. "get what? Your Majesty, I don’t... I don’t understand, what are you looking at?"

"this," the Emperor said, gesturing sharply at the mark, patience thinning fast. "this, right here on your neck. don’t tell me you can’t feel it."

"I don’t feel anything," the fake Julian said, voice trembling slightly, hands coming up to touch at the spot with convincing confusion. "I swear, I don’t know what you’re talking about. maybe it’s from the mountain, or..."

The Emperor studied him for a long, silent moment, something sharp and calculating settling behind his eyes, and slowly, the confusion in his own expression deepened into something else entirely.

Because Julian doesn’t do this. Julian doesn’t stammer, doesn’t widen his eyes and plead ignorance, doesn’t shrink back from confrontation with soft, uncertain apologies. Julian argued. Julian threw insults sharper than most blades. Julian had looked him dead in the eye and told him to shove his own offer of marriage somewhere unspeakable without so much as a flicker of hesitation.

This... this careful, wide-eyed innocence... wasn’t Julian at all.

’either something’s changed him completely,’ the Emperor thought slowly, eyes narrowing, ’or this isn’t him.’

He didn’t say either thought out loud, simply straightened, expression smoothing back into something composed and unreadable. "rest," he said instead, voice giving nothing away. "we’ll discuss it further once you’re stronger."

He left the room without another word, mind already turning fast toward a way to test the theory quietly forming in the back of his skull.

---

The opportunity arrived faster than he expected. By midafternoon, word reached him that a Sentinel training in the eastern yard had collapsed suddenly, gray patches spreading fast across his skin, the telltale signs of corruption exactly like the ones that had taken down Team C weeks earlier. Medics were already gathering, Guides scrambling to respond, and the Emperor, watching the chaos unfold from the edge of the yard, saw his chance immediately.

"bring the Guide," he ordered, voice carrying clean across the assembling crowd. "bring Julian. now."

The fake Julian arrived a few minutes later, escorted carefully by an attendant, still moving with the same practiced fragility it had worn since its arrival, and the Emperor watched its reaction with sharp, unblinking attention as it took in the scene... the fallen Sentinel, the spreading corruption, the desperate need for exactly the kind of healing Julian had proven capable of before.

The whole hall had gathered by now, drawn by the commotion, and among the crowd, predictably, Mika stood with his usual cluster of friends, arms crossed, expression already curling into something smug.

"well," Mika murmured, just loud enough to carry, "here’s our chance to see the great SSS-Rank Guide in action again. assuming he’s not too fragile after his little vacation."

His friends snickered quietly beside him. The Emperor ignored them entirely, gaze fixed on the fake Julian. "heal him," he said simply.

The fake Julian’s expression crumpled immediately, hands coming up in a small, apologetic gesture. "Your Majesty, I... I don’t think I can. I’m still so weak from everything that happened, I haven’t fully recovered, if I push myself now I might..."

"you healed an entire squad at nearly zero reserves," the Emperor said, voice flat and even, watching every flicker of the creature’s expression with careful, deliberate attention. "you dropped to zero fighting a core-class Aberration and still managed to walk away breathing. and now you’re telling me you can’t manage a single Sentinel."

"I know how that sounds," the fake Julian said, voice wavering with practiced distress, "but Your Majesty, please, I really am still recovering, I don’t want to make things worse by trying and failing in front of everyone..."

"weak," Mika said loudly, not bothering to lower his voice this time, relish plain in every syllable. "typical. all that fuss over an F-Class nobody who got lucky with one good rank, and the second something real is asked of him, suddenly he can’t manage it."

His friends laughed outright this time, and a ripple of uncertain murmurs spread through the gathered crowd, uncertainty creeping into faces that had, until a moment ago, been nothing but relief at Julian’s safe return.

"say that again," one of Mika’s friends added, grinning, "and maybe we’ll finally get our old academy back. no more prodigy Guide stealing every prince and commander’s attention."

The Emperor didn’t so much as glance at Mika or his friends, attention still locked entirely on the fake Julian’s face, watching the careful, practiced distress with something cold and calculating settling deeper behind his own composed expression.

’no hesitation to fight,’ he thought slowly. ’no hesitation to insult me to my face. no hesitation to burn every reserve he had protecting strangers he’d known for less than a day. and now, faced with exactly the same situation, suddenly fragile. suddenly frightened. suddenly nothing at all like the man who told me to shove my own crown somewhere unspeakable.’

His jaw tightened, certainty settling cold and absolute into his chest.

Reid pushed through the crowd at that moment, having heard the commotion from across the yard, and the moment his eyes landed on the fake Julian’s face, something in his own expression sharpened too, some old instinct rising up that he couldn’t quite name yet, watching the too-careful way "Julian" held himself, the too-soft way he spoke.

"what’s happening," Reid said, low, moving to stand near the Emperor.

"a test," the Emperor said quietly, not taking his eyes off the fake Julian for even a second. "one I believe he’s already failing."

"heal him," the Emperor said again, quieter this time, and far more dangerous for it. "now. or explain to me, in front of everyone in this hall, exactly why the Empire’s first SSS-Rank Guide suddenly can’t manage the one thing he’s supposed to do best."

The fake Julian hesitated, some deep, silent calculation flickering behind its borrowed eyes, weighing the risk of refusal against the risk of attempting a heal it might not be able to properly replicate.

"I’ll try," it said finally, voice small, stepping toward the fallen Sentinel with visible reluctance.

It knelt, pressed its palms against the gray, spreading corruption exactly the way it had observed Julian do before, and light... thin, faint, unconvincing light... trickled weakly from its hands, barely making a dent in the gray creeping steadily up the Sentinel’s arm.

The crowd’s murmurs sharpened into something uneasy.

Reid’s jaw tightened, watching the pathetic trickle of light with growing, cold certainty. He’d stood beside Julian while he burned through everything he had healing a dozen Sentinels in a row without slowing. He knew exactly what real effort from him looked like.

This wasn’t it. "that’s not him," Reid said quietly, just for the Emperor to hear, voice hard with sudden, absolute conviction. "whatever that thing is. that is not Julian."