Chapter 2
I woke, cleaned myself, and stood now before the tall mirror in my room, adjusting the cuffs of a nobleman's suit—something I would've scoffed at in a previous life.
The fabric was fine, tailored precisely to my measurements, a deep navy layered with silver embroidery.
It itched less than I expected, but not because of comfort.
The [True Noble] skill made anything less than this unbearable.
Anything simpler felt… wrong.
False.
Yet even with all this luxury, the breakfast I'm having now feels more like a curse than a blessing.
Across the long oak table, sat Olivia—my wife.
Twenty years old.
Beautiful, cold, and glaring daggers into her eggs.
She hadn't spoken a word since we sat down.
Truth be told, I know why she's like this.
The man she married—the previous Lucas—destroyed any chance of a genuine relationship.
He became obsessed with her during his teenage years.
When she tried to distance herself, he forced the matter.
Paid off the elders of her clan.
Bound her with political threats, using his father's name like a collar around her throat.
It was less a marriage and more a well-decorated prison cell.
Now, I—this new Lucas—sit in his body at the age of twenty-four.
Olivia, four years younger, sits before me like a poised blade.
Beautiful, but sharp.
Lethal.
Keeping her close like this… it's dangerous.
People can only be pushed so far.
And considering how deeply she must hate me, I wouldn't be surprised if she was already working with my sister to kill me.
Or worse… maybe her own sister gave the order.
Her sister—Count Aurelina's daughter—was more dangerous than she let on.
A woman of masks and secrets.
The few who knew her true dealings understood she controlled a significant portion of the underworld.
The rest saw her as nothing more than a quiet, reclusive noblewoman.
But I remember flashes from Lucas's memories—her eyes, how they gleamed when she spoke of loyalty.
That, or maybe my own sister wanted me dead.
Maybe she thought our older brother should inherit the family estate, and I was in the way.
A pawn to be cleared from the board.
Lucas's memories from last night... they're still sharp.
He was dizzy.
Couldn't breathe.
Then darkness.
The food.
That had to be it.
I'd already used [Understanding] on the meal.
No poison.
At least none that magic could detect.
Still, I have to shift this situation to my favor before one of them makes another move.
I sighed softly, setting my fork down and looking across the table.
Olivia was nearly finished eating, still staring down at her plate like it had offended her.
"Olivia," I said, voice calm, even, "would you mind meeting with me this afternoon?"
She didn't even lift her eyes. "Yes. I do mind."
The words were like shards of glass.
Cold.
Sharp.
Final.
Also—one more thing to keep in mind.
Olivia was a knight.
A Tier 3, no less. If she ever wanted to kill me, she could do so before I had time to blink.
I nodded slowly, not showing a trace of emotion. "Very well."
Then I turned to the butler—an older man with graying temples whose name, admittedly, I didn't know.
"Could you fetch the head chef for me?"
"Yes, sir," the butler replied curtly and strode toward the kitchen.
Moments later, the door opened and a man with short brown hair and narrow black eyes stepped forward.
He bowed once.
I studied him for a second.
Something about his eyes told me he wasn't used to being called into the dining room unless something had gone wrong.
But instead, I offered a simple smile and said, "Thank you for the meal. I'd like you to handle tonight's dinner as well."
He blinked, stunned. "O-of course, my lord."
I stood.
The room fell awkwardly silent.
As I straightened my suit jacket and buttoned it over my shirt, I caught Olivia's eyes on me.
Confused.
Narrowed.
The butler beside her looked equally uncertain.
The chef seemed to think he was hallucinating.
Without another word, I turned and walked calmly out of the dining hall, boots clicking softly on the marble as I made my way toward the front doors.
Today was the first lecture at the Academy.
Behind me, the silence finally broke.
"Did… did Lucas just thank the chef?" Olivia asked.
"Yes, ma'am," the butler—Leo—answered after a pause.
"I thought everyone said the Young Master was… well…"
"An asshole," the chef muttered, then quickly looked away as if the words had betrayed him.
Olivia's brows furrowed. "That's strange. Him thanking the chef is strange. Asking to meet me in the afternoon is strange."
"What's more strange," Leo added, voice lower now, "is that he's alive."
That made Olivia turn.
Her gaze sharpened. "What do you mean?"
Leo hesitated.
His mouth opened.
Closed.
Sweat began to gather at his temples.
"I mean… nothing, my lady."
Olivia's tone turned firm, laced with quiet authority. "That was an order. Leo… what do you mean?"
Leo's breath caught, and the sweat began to roll in earnest.
His hands trembled slightly behind his back.
In the Car
The vehicle moved smoothly across the cobbled streets, enchanted tires absorbing the roughness of the old road as magic-fueled engines purred quietly beneath us.
This world balanced itself awkwardly between the mystic and the modern—a kingdom where runes powered lanterns, but nobles still sent letters by falcon.
But I didn't care about any of that right now.
My attention was locked on the stack of papers in my lap—lecture notes, study material, and course plans all prepared meticulously by one man: Mike.
He had been working under me for two years now, loyal, quiet, sharp.
A tierless scholar with no remarkable mana talent but an extraordinary memory and understanding of magical theory.
If I was now a professor at the Arcane Academy, it was because of him.
Not because I earned it, but because he carried the burden of my incompetence.
The previous Lucas had leaned heavily on Mike to keep up appearances.
But I—the new Lucas—wasn't here to fake my way through anything.
I had already used [Understanding] on the material.
A broken skill by any measure.
The moment I touched the papers, concepts and theories rushed into my head like water into an empty bowl.
I couldn't explain the magic of it, only that I now understood—on a deep, intrinsic level—what these lessons were truly about.
Still, I didn't rely on the skill alone.
From the storage ring on my finger, I pulled out three thick volumes—basic magic texts I had found during my morning sweep of the mansion's library.
Fundamentals of Channeling, Theories of Internal Mana Flow, and The Four Pillars of Elemental Composition.
As the car rattled gently forward, I flipped through them at inhuman speed.
Page after page.
Paragraph after paragraph.
Line by line.
Mike, sitting beside me, stared in disbelief.
His mouth opened slightly as he watched me move through entire chapters in seconds, my fingers turning pages like they were made of air.
"You're... actually reading all that?" he finally asked.
I didn't look up. "I've already read them. Now I'm reading them again."
He looked at the driver, who was just as wide-eyed.
By the time we reached the academy gates—massive structures of white stone laced with golden runes—I had closed the final book and slid it back into my storage ring with a flick of the hand.
I turned to Mike, adjusting the cuffs of my noble coat. "Good work, Mike. When you're done with your errands, come to my office with every book you can find—from basic to advanced—on every magic system, school, and lost theory in the archive."
Mike blinked at me like I'd grown a second head. "O-Okay, Professor."
The driver nearly stalled the engine from glancing at me too many times.
I stepped out, the morning wind brushing against my coat as I looked up at the towering marble façade of the Academy.
Arcane symbols pulsed along the spires.
Floating platforms shifted across the sky, ferrying students and faculty between buildings.
The air buzzed with raw mana.
This wasn't just a school. It was the heart of the kingdom's magical evolution.
The students here?
All chosen from the highest tiers of talent.
The professors?
Tier 3, Tier 4—some even rumored to be on the verge of Tier 5.
And not just in power, but intellect.
They were scholars, inventors, alchemists, rune theorists.
Each one working on something that would redefine magic itself.
And now I stood among them.
But I wasn't here just to teach.
I had goals—dangerous ones.
First, I had to survive.
Someone wanted me dead, and they had already succeeded once.
Whoever it was—Olivia, her sister, my sister, or someone else entirely—I would find them.
Second, I needed to reach Tier 3.
That was the threshold.
Once I reached it, I'd become an Archmage, and my authority would no longer be something others could question or ignore.
Third, I had to complete the Mana Stone Project.
A theory the previous Lucas had been working on.
Dangerous.
Revolutionary.
Incomplete.
And lastly... I needed to rise through the ranks.
To become one of the Head Professors.
It was the previous Lucas's goal, and for good reason.
The heads had access to a place sealed away from all but the elite few.
The Forbidden Archive—a vault of knowledge banned by the Crown Spells outlawed.
Experiments hidden.
Histories rewritten.
Lucas had wanted it for one spell in particular:
Immortal—a forbidden ritual of dark magic that allowed one to consume the life force of others to extend their own life.
He hadn't yet succeeded in acquiring it, but it was clear from his memory that he was obsessed.
Not me.
I didn't want to live forever.
I wanted to know everything.
Every spell.
Every lost potion.
Every piece of ancient wisdom buried by time and politics.
And once I had it… I would decide what to do with it.
By then, I would already have learned everything this kingdom had to offer.