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 the lazy confidence of someone who'd never been denied anything.
"I heard he couldn't even manifest a basic flame spell in practice today. Professor Aldric said it was 'embarrassing to watch.'"
"Wasn't he supposed to be a prodigy?" one of the uncles said, swirling wine in his goblet. "What happened to all that talent?"
I wish I knew, Lucian thought, feeling the familiar hollow ache in his chest where his power used to burn.
A soft, cutting laugh came 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 agreement rippled through the family.
Lucian's jaw tightened, but he kept his eyes on his plate.
"Lysandra." Adrian's voice held a note of amusement. "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 moment.
She didn't mock or defend.
She just... watched.
Then returned to her meal as if he didn't exist.
Somehow, that felt worse than Lysandra's cruelty.
Lucian's grip tightened on his fork.
Three 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 something like pride.
Then one day, it all vanished.
His mana pool—once vast and overflowing—became a shallow puddle. Spells that came naturally now fizzled out. The power that made him somebody just... disappeared.
No one believed him when he said something was wrong. That it felt like something had been ripped out of him.
They just assumed 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 mechanical precision. "The decision is made. He leaves next week."
"But—"
"Enough." The Duke's voice was flat and Final. "He bears the Valemont name, even if barely. Let the academy deal with him. If he fails, it reflects on him alone. If by some miracle he succeeds..." The Duke's lips twitched. "Well. We shall see."
The implication was clear: Get him out of sight. Let him rot somewhere 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 some dignity?"
The table went quiet.
Waiting for his response.
Lucian met her gaze. "Of course, Your Grace. I'll do my best."
His voice came 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 home.
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 moment, her eyes met his.
There was something in that gaze. Something he couldn't read.
Concern? Pity? Curiosity?
Then she turned and disappeared into the hall, silent as a ghost.
When the meal 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 time 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 me 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.
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 memories 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 tournament arc. A single spell through the heart. Clean. Efficient. The crowd would cheer.
Fuck.
Lucian's breath came in ragged gasps as the memories 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 doomed character in a story he'd read for entertainment.
A villain whose entire purpose was to make the hero look good.
This is insane. This can't be—
[SYSTEM INITIALIZATION COMPLETE]