Chapter 1: The Second Life of a Noble

My second life was satisfying.

“Have you awakened, young master?”

From the moment I opened my eyes, the maids began attending to me.

I washed my face with warm water from a silver basin and wore a luxurious uniform, crafted stitch by stitch by a master tailor.

“This dish is veal sirloin seared in clarified butter, paired with caviar fragranced with bay leaves and pepper…”

The chef explained the process by which this dish came to grace my table.

Once, I used to think such fuss over a single meal was excessive.

But now, I understand that such fuss is the very essence of nobility.

I am a noble of high birth.

Nobility means making others do what need not be done, for your sake alone.

So listening to the chef detail how much effort went into this dish—

that, too, is an act befitting a noble.

After the meal, I had private tutoring with a learned and wise scholar.

Many noble children seemed to find these hours torturous, but I was an exception.

“The Seven Elector Families have inherited magical power through their bloodlines, it seems.”

For unlike them, I possessed memories of a world once called modern.

Learning wasn’t merely memorizing knowledge of this world.

It felt like adventuring through another world, and that made everything delightful.

“Indeed. You are most insightful, young master.”

At first, this treatment had felt awkward, but I quickly grew accustomed to it.

Just as I was about to ask another question, a thunderous boom echoed from the east.

Startled, I knocked over my inkwell with my elbow.

“It seems the Lord is training young master Anplus to become the next emperor.”

What kind of training causes a sound like that?

I had grown used to many things, but this force called magic—I still couldn’t get used to it.

The tutor called for a maid to calm my surprise.

“My, your sleeve is wet. Our time is nearly up, so let us stop here for today.”

I headed toward the bath with the maid.

Even as I entered the bathroom, two maids followed naturally behind.

They took my clothes, massaged my limbs, and poured warm water over my body.

Once I had washed enough, I sat in the wide marble tub.

They washed my long hair, which reached my waist, and rubbed in expensive oils.

“Your hair is truly beautiful, young master.”

In the Empire, long hair—whether on man or woman—was a symbol of leisure.

There was only one reason I could enjoy such luxury.

It was because I was the heir of the Intezeruto House, one of the Seven Elector Families that ruled the Empire.

Anplus Intezeron Intezeruto.

From the moment of my birth, I was entitled to such indulgence.

As long as the blood of great magic flowed through my veins.

***

Today was the most important day of my fifteen years of life.

“Congratulations, young master!”

“Your outfit suits you perfectly today!”

The maids did their utmost to make me appear dignified.

The shoulder lines of my uniform fell sharp as blades, and not a single strand of my long hair was out of place.

“Young Master Anplus is coming out!”

At the steward’s booming declaration, I stepped into the Hall of Glory.

“He’s here.”

“Such composure for his age.”

“If only you could be half like him, my boy.”

The gathered nobles’ eyes turned toward me.

Their voices of praise filled the air.

An orchestra played a grand melody, and petals and confetti fluttered down.

The lesser nobles lining the hall bowed their heads to me—their future ruler.

The first to approach and greet me was my younger sister.

“Congratulations, brother. I’m so excited to see what kind of magic you’ll awaken. I think something like ice or lightning would suit you.”

I climbed the stairs and knelt before my father’s throne.

His hair, black as ebony, fell to his waist, and his pale gray eyes shone with the hunger of one who longed endlessly for the world he had yet to conquer.

A proud, fearsome man—a grand mage with the bearing of a predatory hawk.

My father, the Lord of our House, Argantius.

“My son of blue blood.”

A heavy silence fell over the grand hall.

“Today, you shall awaken your magic—and be reborn as a true noble.”

As an Elector and a Great Mage, there were only six others in the world who stood as his equals.

Yet his gray eyes, looking down upon me, glimmered with anticipation.

They were not the eyes of a father.

They were the eyes of a man looking upon his successor—the one who would rise higher and fulfill the dream he could not.

In the past, my father had united a divided family through bloodshed.

The Imperial Family, wary of him, spread lies that he was a madman obsessed with power, unfit to become the next emperor.

With the tacit approval of the other Electors, the Imperial Family froze my father’s right to succession.

Yet his ambition never waned.

He honed his magic daily, preparing for the moment when true power would be needed.

“Let us see what kind of emperor—no, noble—you shall become. Are you ready?”

“Yes, Father.”

I extended my left hand.

My father drew a dagger and lightly cut my palm.

Blue blood welled up, shimmering like the finest sapphire or aquamarine.

The nobles gasped in awe.

“Even for a direct heir… that color is astonishing.”

“The purity of his blood is on another level.”

The blood of nobles contained mana, and thus, it was blue.

That blood—and the magic it could manifest—was the source of my dignity.

The wound closed with startling speed, thanks to the vitality granted by mana.

“Now, close your eyes.”

“Yes.”

“Imagine all things in this world gathering upon your palm.”

“Yes.”

“Hot or cold, tingling or heavy, light or bright—it doesn’t matter. Draw forth what calls to you.”

I closed my eyes and imagined the entire world gathered on my palm.

Every noble is a magician.

“……!”

I was a noble too.

Yet no matter how much I focused, even when I imagined the universe resting upon my hand, I felt nothing.

My pale face flushed red, veins bulged along my arms, and at last, drenched in cold sweat, I opened my eyes.

My father looked down at me with a puzzled expression.

Murmurs began to ripple among the nobles.

“What’s happening?”

“Why isn’t he casting anything?”

“Is he joking?”

“Who would joke at such a ceremony?”

“Could it be… he can’t use magic?”

“Preposterous! Mind your tongue!”

“But doesn’t such a case occur, though rarely, even among blue bloods? Your eighth cousin—”

“Silence! That fool’s blood was so diluted, he hardly deserved the name noble. The young master is purest of the pure!”

“Then surely he’ll cast something—flame, lightning, or earth—any moment now!”

“R-Really…?”

A chill ran down my spine.

Magicians controlled mana through their will.

But some blue-blooded nobles—those weak of will—could not.

A magician without magic had no value.

At best, he’d be used for breeding or as a mana donor for potions.

Panic seized me.

“F-Father! No! I can do it!”

But my desperate cry was too late.

My father’s gray eyes had turned cold—beyond disappointment, closer to despair.

At fifteen years old, in the dying winter of the camellia’s bloom, I lost my nobility.

***

Three years passed.

Silence hung in my room like a withered flower.

I drew water myself to wash my face.

No maid brought the basin anymore.

Once, I hadn’t even washed my own hair—but now, I’d long grown used to grooming myself.

It wasn’t just the maids.

The family allowance had been drastically reduced.

I received barely enough to scrape by.

I sold my old ornate clothes, now too small, to make a living.

I bought cheap shirts, the kind worn by commoners.

Three years was far too long to hold onto resentment.

Then I heard voices around the corner of the hallway.

“You are truly brilliant, young lady.”

“No, it’s just that history is so simple and fun. It’s all victories, after all.”

It was my sister and her tutor.

She had awakened her magic and begun studying royal doctrine a year ago.

If I ran into her now, she’d look at me with either pity or contempt.

Both were unbearable.

So I turned down the opposite hall to avoid them.

BOOM!

Another thunderous noise rang out.

The Lord was training again, trying to make his child into the next emperor.

I glanced around.

No one was there.

I opened my palm and closed my eyes.

I imagined the world gathering upon it.

“Please…”

Though I had failed hundreds, thousands of times, I prayed for another miracle—

that this time, something might change.

It’s only a little delayed.

This time, it will work.

If I could just use magic, I could regain everything I’d lost—my father’s trust, my sister’s respect, my luxury.

My face flushed red, veins bulged, but again, I felt nothing.

Three years of failure repeated once more.

My shoulders trembled with humiliation, and at last, tears fell.

“Tomorrow… I’ll try again tomorrow.”

Maybe I’ll never succeed.

No. I will.

I forced myself to ignore that voice of doubt growing louder each day.

Dragging my weary body, I returned to my room.

In the mirror, my hair brushed my shoulders.

Of the eight maids who once attended me, only one remained.

“It’s grown quite long again, young master.”

“Shall I cut it for you?”

“Yes, please.”

She trimmed it down to just enough to tie a short tail.

No longer could I afford the luxury of perfumed oils or waist-length hair.

Only the dust-covered marble tub remained to remind me of that time.

“After dinner, Lady Temeratia wishes to spar with you, young master. What shall I say?”

“You already know. I have no right to refuse.”

“But your body—”

“This isn’t the first time, nor will it be the last.”

The maid fell silent.

“I’d rather not give her a reason to beat me twice as hard next time.”

Temeratia—

a young lady with dark blue hair and eyes like polished steel, from a prominent branch family that raised our military.

The Empire prized martial strength, and duels between nobles were highly encouraged.

A noble of higher purity could not challenge one of lesser purity—but they could never refuse a challenge from below.

And I was the purest of the pure.

Of course, every noble here knew I was a blue blood who couldn’t use magic.

Temeratia knew it too.

I steeled myself for another humiliating day and went to the training grounds.

Temeratia stood waiting, immaculate in her uniform.

Her face was hard—more furious than usual.

If I came back with all my limbs intact, it’d be a miracle.

“Young master, finally. I’ve waited long enough.”

Her voice was different today.

No excitement, only anger and sharp irritation.

“Please, just make it quick. Even if I recover, pain is still pain.”

I tried to appear calm.

That seemed to irritate her even more.

“I don’t think so.”

A blinding blue light flashed from her hand.

Even with my eyes closed, the afterimage burned on my lids.

The training ground floor shook.

The hardened earth rose into thick pillars aimed straight at my back.

Thud!

Struck squarely, I couldn’t even scream before rolling across the ground.

From the floor ahead, massive spikes erupted one after another.

I had no time to stand—barely enough to roll away.

Temeratia laughed wildly.

Whoosh!

A final spike burst up between my legs.

I sighed in relief—only for another pillar to rise beneath my tailbone.

Crack!

My body lifted forward as pain shot through my spine.

Worse than agony was the despair.

Before me stretched a field of spikes.

I covered my head with both arms and shut my eyes tight.

Thud! Thud!

Burning pain flared through my side and thigh.

“Kh…!”

I trembled like a newborn kitten, opening my eyes.

The world glowed faint blue—my blood, smeared on the spikes, shimmered like lanterns.

Temeratia frowned at the sight.

“Such a waste of color for a crippled noble.”

She approached.

My hand groped the ground for something—anything—and found a stick.

I grabbed it and rose to my feet.

It was a small branch, thin as two fingers, with a few wilted leaves.

“Ha… haha.”

I laughed bitterly at my own misery.

What could I possibly do with this?

Only magic could fight magic.

Resistance was useless.

That was common sense in this world.

So why… does my body feel so light?

Even with holes torn through my limbs, even trembling, I could move freely—almost naturally.

Temeratia narrowed her eyes.

“Planning to resist? With that?”

She gestured, and the ground rumbled.

A pillar of earth shot up toward my stomach like a battering ram.

Even my pure blood wouldn’t survive that.

“W-Wait—!”

I stared at her in panic.

Her eyes burned with rage, no longer capable of hearing reason.

This was bad.

If that hit me, I would truly die.

No. I won’t die twice.

Summoning the last of my strength, I widened my eyes.

The shifting earth seemed to move in slow motion.

For a brief instant, I saw it—the flickering of blue mana, the layers of earth forming around it, and the tiny gap between light and soil.

A single point.

“Ah!”

I clenched my teeth and kicked off the ground.

Drawing every ounce of strength from my body, I swung the branch.

Thwack!

The blue mana that shaped the world dissolved like smoke.

The pillar crumbled like a toppled tower.

Temeratia gaped, whispering in disbelief.

“My magic… broke?”

She looked as if she couldn’t comprehend what had just happened.

I didn’t waste the moment—bursting through the dust, I charged forward.

“W-Wait!”

“Too late.”

Had you said that earlier, maybe I would have stopped.

I dodged her hand and struck her temple.

Crack!

A sharp reverberation rang through my arm, and for the first time in years, I felt satisfaction.

That sense that the world had finally moved according to my will—

a sensation I had once taken for granted.

At last, I had reclaimed a shred of my lost dignity.