Chapter 1: Bastard’s Awakening
Lucian’s mana had abandoned him three years ago, and everyone at the table knew it.
The dining hall of House Valemont was cold, its crystal chandeliers glowing with captured starlight, throwing harsh shadows over the long marble table. Lucian sat at the far end, as distant from the Duke’s seat as if he were in the servants’ quarters.
Not that anyone would notice if he left.
He pushed food around his plate, keeping his eyes down.
Survival rule number one: don’t draw attention. Survive dinner. Escape to the room. Repeat tomorrow.
At the head of the table, his half-brother Adrian leaned back, golden rings pulsing with magic. The Duchess smiled, watching her perfect son spin fire between his fingertips. like it cost him nothing.
It probably didn’t.
"—pathetic, really."
Lucian’s fork paused halfway to his mouth.
Adrian’s voice carried down the table with lazy confidence. "I heard he couldn’t even manifest a basic fla spell in practice today. Professor Theodore said it was ’embarrassing to watch.’"
"Wasn’t he supposed to be a prodigy?" one of the uncles said, swirling wine. "What happened to all that talent?"
I wish I knew.
A soft, cutting laugh ca from across the table.
Lysandra—one of the Duke’s twin daughters—set down her wine glass with deliberate grace. Everything about her was calculated. Beautiful. Cruel.
"Oh please, Uncle. We all know what happened." Her gaze slid to Lucian, lingering just long enough to make it sting. "The ’prodigy’ was never real. Just a bastard’s desperate attempt to matter."
Murmurs of agreent rippled through the family.
Lucian’s jaw tightened, but he kept his eyes on his plate.
"Lysandra." Adrian’s voice held a note of amusent. "Don’t be cruel."
"I’m simply being honest, brother." She tilted her head, smile widening. "Honesty is a kindness, isn’t it?"
The Duchess dabbed her lips with a napkin.
"It seems we placed far too much faith in... questionable bloodlines."
Beside her, Cassia—Lysandra’s twin—said nothing.
Where Lysandra was all sharp edges and cruel smiles, Cassia was still water. Unreadable. Her silver-grey eyes rested on Lucian for a long mont.
She didn’t mock or defend.
She just... watched.
Then returned to her al as if he didn’t exist.
Sohow, that felt worse than Lysandra’s cruelty.
Lucian’s grip tightened on his fork.
Eight years ago, he’d been called a prodigy. The bastard son with more magical talent than the legitimate heir. Everyone praised him. Even his father had looked at him with sothing like pride.
Then one day, it all vanished.
His mana pool—once vast and overflowing—beca a shallow puddle. Spells that ca naturally now fizzled out. The power that made him sobody just... disappeared.
No one believed him when he said sothing was wrong. That it felt like sothing had been ripped out of him.
They just assud the bastard’s "genius" had been a fluke. A brief spark that burned out.
Now he was less than nothing.
"Father," Adrian said, setting down his wine glass. "I’ve been thinking. Is it really necessary to send him to Astraviel Academy? It’s a waste of House Valemont’s reputation."
Duke Valemont’s expression didn’t change. He cut into his steak with chanical precision. "The decision is made. He leaves next week."
"But—"
"Enough." The Duke’s voice was flat and Final. "He bears the Valemont na, even if barely. Let the academy deal with him. If he fails, it reflects on him alone. If by so miracle he succeeds..." The Duke’s lips twitched. "Well. We shall see."
The implication was clear: Get him out of sight. Let him rot sowhere else.
Adrian opened his mouth to argue, but his mother placed a hand on his arm, shaking her head slightly.
Lucian forced himself to keep eating. Forced his face to stay blank.
Just survive dinner. Then you can leave.
"Oh, Lucian."
He looked up.
The Duchess smiled at him—the kind of smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "Do try not to embarrass the family too badly at the academy. I know it’s difficult for you, but perhaps you could at least pretend to have so dignity?"
The table went quiet.
Waiting for his response.
Lucian t her gaze. "Of course, Your Grace. I’ll do my best."
His voice ca out steady. Respectful. Empty.
She looked vaguely disappointed that he hadn’t snapped. "See that you do."
Dinner continued.
Lucian ate in silence, surrounded by family that despised him, in a house that had never been ho.
As the family began to disperse, Lysandra passed by his seat.
She paused, leaning down just enough that only he could hear.
"Do try not to embarrass us too badly at the academy, dear brother," she whispered, her breath warm against his ear. "Though I suppose that’s asking the impossible, isn’t it?"
She straightened, smiled brilliantly at the room, and glided away.
Lucian’s hands clenched beneath the table.
From across the room, Cassia stood near the doorway. For just a mont, her eyes t his.
There was sothing in that gaze. Sothing he couldn’t read.
Concern? Pity? Curiosity?
Then she turned and disappeared into the hall, silent as a ghost.
When the al finally ended, he escaped to his room—a small chamber in the east wing, far from the main family quarters.
He closed the door.
Leaned against it.
And for the first ti that night, let the mask drop.
Lysandra’s whispered words echoed in his mind. The Duchess’s thinly veiled contempt. Adrian’s dismissive smugness.
And Cassia’s unreadable stare.
Of all of them, she unsettled him most.
The others wore their disdain openly. But Cassia? She was a locked door he’d never found the key to.
What does she think when she looks at
like that?
He pushed the thought away.
It didn’t matter. None of them mattered.
His hands were shaking.
I used to be strong, he thought, staring at his palms. I used to matter.
Now he was just the bastard. The failure. The mistake.
He moved to the window, looking out over the estate gardens bathed in moonlight. His reflection stared back from the darkened glass.
black hair hanging ssily across his forehead, too long and unkempt. Grey eyes, dull and lifeless. They used to shimr silver when his magic flowed. Now they were just ash.
His gaze shifted past the reflection, focusing on the gardens below.
Astraviel Academy. The most prestigious magic institution in the kingdom. Where the elite sent their heirs to forge connections and grow their power.
Where he’d be eaten alive.
Lucian closed his eyes.
And then—
PAIN.
His head exploded with white-hot agony. He collapsed, clutching his skull as mories that weren’t his flooded in like a dam breaking.
A novel. A story. Characters. Plot.
"The Hero’s Radiant Path"—a fantasy romance novel he’d read in another life. In another world.
Earth. Modern technology. A college student reading webnovels late at night.
That student was... him?
No. That student had been him.
And now he was Lucian Valemont.
The trash villain.
The minor antagonist destined to harass the heroines, challenge the protagonist to duels he’d lose, and eventually die pathetically at the hands of—
Elira Frostveil. The ice princess genius. The novel’s second female lead.
She’d kill him in the academy tournant arc. A single spell through the heart. Clean. Efficient. The crowd would cheer.
Fuck.
Lucian’s breath ca in ragged gasps as the mories settled into place.
Oh fantastic. Not only am I the family punching bag, I’m also a discount villain in a story I read while procrastinating on my sociology paper. Because that’s exactly how reincarnation should work—no OP cheat skills, no divine blessing, just ’hey, you’re the guy who dies in Chapter 47. Good luck!’
He wasn’t just the family disgrace.
He was a dood character in a story he’d read for entertainnt.
A villain whose entire purpose was to make the hero look good.
This is insane. This can’t be—
[SYSTEM INITIALIZATION COMPLETE]
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