The morning sun filtered through expensive silk curtains, casting golden rays across an unfamiliar ceiling. I blinked slowly, my mind foggy and disoriented as I stared at the intricate crown molding above me. This wasn't my bedroom. My ceiling had water stains and cracks, not hand-carved ornamental designs that probably cost more than my entire apartment.
I sat up slowly, and that's when everything hit me at once.
Memories—two lifetimes colliding in my head like a train wreck. Kazuma Hayashi, seventeen years old, died choking on convenience store ramen while binge-reading Chronicles of the Starborn Hero at three in the morning. And now... Zane Morgenstern, also seventeen, minor noble, and the most forgettable villain in the entire damn novel.
"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered, my voice coming out different, deeper than mine had previously been, with an aristocratic accent that felt foreign on my tongue.
I swung my legs out of the massive four-poster bed, my bare feet touching cold marble floors. The bedroom was obscenely lavish, dark mahogany furniture, shelves lined with leather-bound books, a standing mirror framed in gold, and paintings that looked like they belonged in a museum. This was the outer estate, the property where the Morgenstern family had essentially exiled their disappointment of a son.
Me. I was that disappointment now.
I stumbled to the mirror, needing to confirm what I already knew. The reflection staring back at me was everything Kazuma wasn't, sharp aristocratic features, pale unblemished skin, midnight black hair with distinctive silver streaks running through it, and piercing ice-blue eyes that seemed to glow in the morning light. Zane Morgenstern was objectively handsome, which made it even more pathetic that his only role in the story was to get humiliated by the protagonist in their first academy encounter.
"A stepping stone," I whispered to my reflection. "I'm literally a tutorial boss."
The original Zane was talentless, arrogant, and cruel to his servants. He would pick a fight with Aiden, the protagonist, over some perceived slight during the academy entrance ceremony. The fight would last exactly thirty seconds. Aiden would utterly demolish him with basic combat techniques, and Zane would never be mentioned again in the 847 chapters I'd read before dying.
That was it. That was my entire existence in this world.
"Well, fuck that," I said firmly.
A sharp "ding" echoed in my mind, and suddenly translucent blue text materialized in my vision, floating in the air like a game interface.
---
[STARTER PACK SYSTEM INITIALIZED]
Welcome, User: Zane Morgenstern
You have been granted a unique opportunity to rewrite your fate!
Starter Pack Available: [1]
Would you like to open your Starter Pack?
[YES] / [NO]
---
A system. Of course. Every single reincarnation story had one, and apparently, I wasn't going to be an exception. My mind raced through the implications. If I had a system, that meant I could grow stronger. I could change my fate. I wouldn't have to be the forgettable villain who existed only to make the protagonist look good.
"Yes," I said without hesitation. "Open it."
The blue text shimmered and reformed.
---
[STARTER PACK OPENED]
Congratulations! You have received:
- Unique Growth-Type Weapon: Shadow (Rank F)
- Skill: Basic Weapon Mastery (Rank E)
- Stat Points: 15
- System Shop Access (Locked until Level 5)
---
Before I could process the information, a weight materialized in my right hand. I looked down to see a dagger, if you could even call it that. The blade was barely six inches long, pitch black, and seemed to absorb the light around it rather than reflect it. The handle was wrapped in dark leather, worn but comfortable against my palm. It looked... underwhelming. Pathetic, even.
An F-rank weapon. The lowest possible grade.
But the description said "growth-type," which meant it could evolve. In the novel, growth-type items were incredibly rare, capable of ascending through ranks as their wielder grew stronger. The protagonist himself only obtained his growth-type sword halfway through the story.
I gave the dagger an experimental swing. It moved through the air with unnatural smoothness, like it was cutting through water instead of wind. Despite its appearance, it felt right in my hand, like it belonged there.
"Shadow," I murmured, testing the name. The blade seemed to pulse in response, and I felt a strange connection forming between us, like a thread of awareness linking my mind to the weapon.
A knock at the door shattered my focus.
"Young Master Zane?" a feminine voice called from the other side. "May I enter? Breakfast has been prepared."
I froze. Servants. Right. Zane had servants. How the hell was I supposed to act like a noble? I'd been a broke college student who survived on instant ramen and energy drinks.
"Come in," I called out, trying to match the imperious tone I remembered from Zane's few appearances in the novel.
The door opened, and a young woman in a crisp maid's uniform entered, carrying a silver tray. She was perhaps twenty, with auburn hair pulled back in a neat bun and warm brown eyes. She kept her gaze respectfully lowered as she approached.
"Good morning, Young Master. I hope you slept well." She set the tray on a side table, fresh bread, various cheeses, sliced fruits, and what looked like premium tea. The kind of breakfast I could never afford in my previous life.
I quickly dismissed Shadow, and the dagger vanished into dark particles that dissipated into the air. The maid didn't even flinch, magic items were common enough in this world that a dimensional storage weapon wouldn't raise eyebrows.
"What's your name?" I asked, realizing I had no idea who she was. Zane's memories were fragmented, giving me general knowledge but lacking specific details about the people around him.
She looked up, surprise flashing across her face. "It's... Elise, Young Master. I've been serving you for three months now."
Three months, and the original Zane had never bothered to remember her name. What an asshole.
"Right. Elise. Thank you for the breakfast." I tried to sound less robotic, more human.
Her surprise deepened. The original Zane apparently didn't say thank you. Ever.
"Of course, Young Master. Will you be training today? Captain Riley mentioned he'd prepared the courtyard for your morning exercises."
Training. The original Zane hated training, which was why he was so pathetically weak despite being seventeen. But I needed to get stronger, and fast. The academy entrance exams were in three months, and if I showed up as weak as the original Zane, I'd be painting a target on my back.
"Yes," I said decisively. "Tell Captain Riley I'll be down after breakfast. And Elise?"
"Yes, Young Master?"
"How many servants and guards do we have on this estate?"
She blinked, clearly confused by the question. "There are five of us in household service, Young Master, myself, Anna, Claire, Martha, and Cook. For security, Captain Riley oversees eight guards who patrol the grounds and mansion."
Thirteen people total. A skeleton crew for an estate this size, but then again, I was the family embarrassment. They had given me just enough staff to maintain appearances while keeping me isolated from the main Morgenstern household.
Perfect. That meant fewer eyes watching me, more freedom to train and prepare.
"Thank you, Elise. You're dismissed."
She curtsied and left, though not before casting one more curious glance my way. I would have to be careful, any major personality changes would raise questions.
I turned back to the window, looking out over the estate grounds. Beyond the manicured gardens, I could see the training courtyard and, further out, the dense forest that bordered the property. Three months until the academy. Three months to transform from a forgettable villain into something more.
I summoned Shadow again, the dark blade materializing in my palm. The weapon thrummed with potential, and I felt a grim smile cross my face.
The original story had Zane Morgenstern as a throwaway character, a brief obstacle for the protagonist to overcome. But I wasn't the original Zane anymore. I was Kazuma Hayashi, and I'd read all 847 chapters. I knew about the hidden dungeons, the secret techniques, the future events that would shape this world.
I knew how to survive.
More than that, I knew how to win.
"Alright then," I said to my reflection, to Shadow, to whatever deity had dropped me into this world. "Let's rewrite this story."
The blade pulsed in agreement, shadows dancing along its edge.
My new life had begun.