At dawn in the morning, Lucard woke up as though everything that had happened to him had been nothing more than a dream.
The first thing that greeted his slowly opening eyes was a familiar ceiling—one he had not seen in what felt like an eternity. So long, in fact, that even the most delusional soul suffering from an eighth-grader syndrome fantasy could never imagine such a span of time.
He sat up on his mattress and slowly swept his gaze across the room, only to find himself inside his old bedroom.
'Was it all just a dream?'
The moment he looked down at his hands, the haze clouding his thoughts began to clear.
They looked foreign.
His fingers appeared longer and more refined than he remembered. His skin was pale and flawless, carrying a faint rosy hue. His nails were crimson, almost blood-red, slightly sharper than normal. Rising from the bed, still naked, he hurried toward the mirror attached to his closet door.
'Is this... me?'
Lucard stared at his reflection in disbelief.
The person staring back at him looked impossibly beautiful, as though sculpted by some supernatural hand. His silky, wavy hair had grown darker than before—so dark it seemed to drink in the surrounding light.
Long eyelashes framed his almond-shaped eyes, whose once-brown irises had transformed into a bright shade of grey, with thick limbal rings and subtle gradients of faded yellow blending into hints of blue.
His lips were fuller, carrying a natural pink tint. Even his physique had changed, becoming leaner and more refined, with perfectly defined musculature.
Small fangs protruded slightly from his upper teeth.
The only things that remained unchanged were his average height and the double eyelids that somehow made him look even more attractive.
'Whatever...'
But how did such a beautiful young man end up in such a situation? And why did he seem so confused?
The story begins long before these events.
Before he changed, anyone who saw Lucard would have considered him quite good-looking, though nowhere near as beautiful as he was now. He was just an ordinary teenager, living his life much like everyone else. Like many people, he had his own struggles and burdens—problems he often hid behind silence or a carefully worn smile.
Lucard was an orphan. The only family he had ever known—his mother figure and foster parent—had died in an accident.
Because of his background, he was often mocked, ridiculed, and looked down upon. But Lucard simply endured it all, silently swallowing whatever bitterness and negativity arose within his heart.
He was no fool.
In fact, it was he who fooled them by remaining silent.
He could not fight back. They were wealthy and influential, while he was nothing more than an orphan. Though his foster mother had once owned a small shop, it had been driven into ruin by the cruelty of those who stood above them.
What could a poor young man do?
They had wealth. They had power. They had privilege.
And because of that, they were favored—especially their children.
Lucard had once attended a prestigious school, but eventually dropped out. While many teachers appreciated his talent and academic excellence, some of those in higher positions treated him unfairly.
Why?
Because they favored the children of the wealthy and influential. Even those who recognized Lucard's abilities could do little against people who wielded such power. He understood the reason well enough: he came from a poor background.
Yet despite his circumstances, Lucard was no ordinary student.
He had been born with a genius-level intellect.
That was precisely why he had been accepted into such a renowned institution in the first place.