Three months passed in a flash of absolute, unadulterated luxury.
Summer bled into a crisp, golden autumn, and Lucianne had never been happier in either of his two lives.
In his previous life as a project manager, a "weekend" was a mythical concept often interrupted by urgent emails at 2:00 AM. In this life? Every single day was a masterpiece of doing absolutely nothing.
Because the entire estate believed his magic core was completely shattered, Lucianne was treated like a priceless, structural antiquity made of spun glass and prayer.
[SYSTEM NOTICE]
Mana Concealment: ACTIVE
External mana probing are block completely however, user, please take caution from any internal invasive mana device or High level sensory type mages.
It was incredibly lucky that the system had automatically blocked his mana from leaking. Otherwise, both Lukarys and especially the count, would be balling their eyes out at the moment they felt his mana core. He was pretty sure he would be paraded around by his father in the capital for months with Lukarys leading a marching band.
Now Lucianne spent his afternoons in the estate's sun-drenched glass conservatory, buried under a mountain of plush silk pillows.
By 10:00 Am he Wakes up and Complains faintly that the morning sun is "too bright" for his delicate senses.
At 11:00 Am, he Eats breakfast consisting entirely of imported cloud-berries and pastries that cost more than a commoner's monthly rent.
And by 1:00 PM, he reads the trashy historical romance novels under the guise of "studying ancient lore to cope with his grief."
He takes a mandatory three-hour nap because lifting a fork took a toll on his "frail constitution" (He was eating a velvet cake) at 4:00 PM
The servants, initially terrified of the old Lucianne's explosive temper, had completely shifted into a state of profound parental protectiveness over the course of the three months.
"Young Master," a middle aged maid named Elanora whispered frantically, rushing forward as Lucianne reached for a heavy leather-bound book on a low table.
"Please! Do not strain yourself! Let me lift that leather book for you. If you tear a muscle, Lord Lukarys will have my head!"
"Thank you, elanora," Raymond sighed, letting his hand drop weakly back onto his lap. He cast his eyes downward, looking appropriately tragic. "Alas, even the weight of poetry is a burden to me now..."
[SYSTEM ALERT]
Daily Performance Review: Passive Manipulation Skill increased to Level 4.
Servant Loyalty: 110% They think you are a tragic, beautiful angel.
Plot adherence: 0%. Excellent job for being entirely useless.
Lucianne ignored the jab at the end of his system notification before smirking. This was peak living. He didn't have to train, he didn't have to study complex mathematics for magic circles, and his stern father completely ignored his existence, viewing him as a ghost in his own house.
The only minor disruption to Lucianne's peaceful retirement plan was his older brother. True to his protective nature, Lukarys checked on him at least three times a week, always bringing specialized doctors, rare herbal teas, or non-magical gifts.
One chilly afternoon, Lukarys strode into the conservatory, his leather riding boots clicking against the marble floor. He looked winded, having just returned from a boundary patrol, but his face softened the moment he saw Lucianne wrapped in a thick cashmere blanket.
"Lucianne," he said gently, pulling up a chair. He handed his younger brother a small, exquisitely carved wooden box.
"I found this in the capital. It's an enchanted music box from the Southern Kingdoms. It doesn't require the user's mana to play. I thought... it might bring you some joy, since the estate has been so quiet."
Lucianne received it with a carefully placed appreciative, exhausted smile and opened the box. Inside a delicate, soothing melody filled the air.
He looked up at Lukarys's anxious, hopeful face and felt a sudden twinge of genuine guilt. Lukarys really, truly loved his little brother and that put a bitter taste in his mouth.
He was treating Lucianne like a dying patient, completely unaware that he was currently harboring enough magical energy to vaporized half of the kingdom.
"It's beautiful, brother," Lucianne said, his voice soft but entirely sincere. "Thank you. You shouldn't spend your gold on a broken man like me."
And he meant it, familial bonding was something truly new to him. Considering the debt and alcohol bottle being thrown across a shabby apartment can be counted as home in his youth. Not to mention the nightly VIP seat to a boxing match between two adults...
"Don't speak like that," Lukarys scolded gently, squeezing Lucianne's shoulder.
"You are a Goetia. Magic or not, you are still my brother. Father may be... cold, but I will always ensure you have a home here. The doctors I consulted say that if you keep resting, your physical body might at least recover from the chronic fatigue."
A warm feeling spread across Lucianne's chest. It was a good feeling. He can get used to this treatment. He allowed a genuine smile to grace his face.
"I am resting well," Lucianne assured him, taking a delicate sip of the bitter herbal tea Elanora had poured for him. "In fact, I feel quite content in the quiet."
Lukarys froze briefly, taking in the sight of it. It was a rarity for his younger brother to smile, and it was miraculous that he was smiling so openly and bright. Far cry from the sneering and arrogant smirk the younger one usually displayed. He felt today's exhaustion washing off of him in seconds.
"I'm glad. Court politics is a mess right now anyway. You aren't missing anything but headaches."
Lucianne's ears perked up. High society drama? Tell me more so I can actively avoid it.
"Oh?" Lucianne asked, tilting his head with an air of mild, detached interest. "Has something happened in the Capital?"
"The second Prince's faction is getting aggressive," Lukarys muttered, rubbing his temples. Lucianne's memories of the royal family was at best surface level. Both by Mikey's rusting memory of it, and the actual Lucianne's disinterest about royal affairs.
The novel didn't indicate much about the succession war of the throne.
Only that the crown prince was a sickly first son of the emperor and that the empress died giving birth to him. He had contracted a mysterious illesss around his 10th year and had grown weaker steadily in the succeeding 12 years without a cure for his unknown ailment.
Then the second prince that was birthed two years after the empress death from a concubine, a high lady from a marquis household. Apparently, the faction of nobles on the 2nd prince side have pushed for replacing the crowns prince succession for the throne due to still existing illness.
And he knows that house Goetia is on the crown prince side in this conflict. Lucianne grimaced at the severe lack of knowledge of the royal affairs, especially their names. He was about to ask more of the royal family when Lukarys continued.
"And Duke Solomon Aldric Ivanov has returned from the Northern Front early. He's been shaking up the military tribunals. Worse, he's taken a bizarre interest in the lower academies. They say he personally attended a basic magic exhibition last week and spent the entire time supervising the commoner section's lecture."
Lucianne's teacup gave a tiny, nearly imperceptible rattle.
Theodore Sully. The plot was moving exactly on schedule. The Duke was already observing the protagonist. According to the original novel, old Lucianne was still actively attending his classes growing more and more jealous of Theodore's rising fame, until the final catalyst where the Duke personally applauded Theodore's superior battle tactic and magical control against Lucianne in a duel.
Consumed by his defeat, he plotted to kill Theodore during a magical examination in the dark forest in their nearing the end of their fourth year, triggering cascading events that lead to multiple students being killed and Duke Solomon's investigation and capture of Lucianne.
"How... exhausting," Lucianne said, forcing a delicate yawn and leaning back into his pillows. "I am glad I am confined here. The politics of the capital sound dreadfully loud."
"They are," Lukarys agreed, standing up and stretching.
"Keep resting, Lucianne. I have to report to Father's study, but I'll have the kitchens send up that plum tart you like for dinner."
"Thank you, brother."
Once Lukarys left the room, Lucianne let his weak, tragic posture drop. He stretched his arms over his head, a satisfying pop echoing through his spine. He sigh in content, while he gave his left buttside some good scratches.
He then looked down at the enchanted music box Lukarys had given him. The gears inside were turning smoothly, powered by a tiny, pre-charged magic stone.
Lucianne stared at it, curiosity getting the better of him. He wondered if he could feel the flow of the box's magic without actually triggering his own glitched core.
He extended a fraction of a millimeter of his consciousness toward the box.
Click.
A little more mana than what he intended accidentally flooded the music box's delicate gears. The box didn't just play faster—the pure density of Lucianne's ambient mana completely overwrote the spell inside it.
The soft, soothing lullaby instantly transformed into a booming, orchestral, surround-sound symphony that rattled the glass windows of the conservatory.
The little carved wooden figures on top began spinning so fast they became a blur, throwing off tiny streaks of golden light.
"Oh shit, fuck, crap—!" Lucianne hissed.
He slammed his hand over the box, frantically suppressing his mana and cutting off the flow entirely. The symphony cut out mid-note, and the box let out a tiny puff of purple smoke before falling completely dead.
[SYSTEM WARNING]
Mana injection detected. Mana output reached Tier 3 (Acoustic Shockwave) for 3.7 seconds.
Please control your output, User. If a high-level sensory mage had been within three miles, they would have detected an anomaly.
Lucianne wiped a bead of cold sweat from his forehead. He looked at the ruined music box, then out the window toward the peaceful, quiet gardens.
"Damn," he muttered, wrapping his silk shawl tighter around himself and sinking back into his pillows. "I am staying in this room forever. No exceptions." The night carried on, with stronger resolve to be as plain and broken as can be.
He didn't know it yet, but the universe took that as a personal challenge.
~~~~~×××××~~~~~
The morning was going altogether too well like most days now for Lucianne, too peaceful almost, and by law the universe view such privilege, a statistical error that had gone on long enough.
An error that would meet a dive bomb with titanic ripples that would disrupt the peaceful water Lucianne was floating on right now. Metaphorically, not literally tho.
He was currently sitting in a silk-lined armchair on the veranda, lazily dipping fresh strawberries into a bowl of whipped cream.
A warm autumn breeze rustled the golden leaves of the estate gardens, and a young servant was gently playing a harmless, non-magical harp in the corner to provide ambient background music.
Lucianne sighed, chewing happily. This is it. I have peaked as a human being. This new life could not get any better.
Suddenly, the harmonious plucking of the harp was violently cut short. Head Butler Harrison marched onto the veranda, his face a pale mask of sheer, aristocratic distaste. He held a silver tray, upon which sat a thick parchment envelope sealed with a heavy, gold-and-crimson wax crest.
The crest featured a soaring griffin clutching a magic wand—the unmistakable emblem of the Royal Magic Academy of the Capital.
Lucianne's strawberry froze halfway to his mouth.
"Young Master," Harrison said, his voice dripping with an impressive amount of venom for a butler. "A courier from the capital just delivered this. It is addressed directly to you, from the Office of academic Registrar."
Lucianne swallowed hard, his survival instincts immediately screaming at him to throw the letter into the nearest fireplace. "Harrison... tell me it's just a bill for the tuition I'm not using."
"I am afraid not, sir," Harrison replied darkly.
Lucianne looked at the butler carefully, he understood the contents of the letter without reading it yet. The academy would simply not care if a student enrolled in the academy blackout, they already got the money. There was no need for explanation nor reasoning. But a letter directly sent to a noble household? To him directly? Neither there was a serious problem, or someone in manager was just being an ass trying to make it difficult.
He reluctantly took the letter, breaking the seal. As he scanned the elegant, looping calligraphy, his internal System let out a cheerful, thoroughly unwelcome chime.
[SYSTEM NOTICE]
Mandatory Plot Node Triggered: 'The Annual Selection Ceremony'.
Objective: Attend the Royal Academy's mandatory review. Failure to appear will result in imperial sanctions against the Goetia household.
Warning: Theodore Sully (Protagonist) will be in attendance. Please dress appropriately for your funeral.
Lucianne felt his soul trying to leave his body. The letter was an absolute nightmare.
Due to the growing battle campaign against The Khan's Black-Iron legion in the northern region and increasing demonic activities across the realm, the Imperial Ministry of Magic, under the direct supervision of the Military Command, had issued a blanket decree.
Every single academy student, noble or commoner, regardless of reported health conditions, medical leaves, or family affairs, was strictly required to return to the Academy for a formal, high-precision Mana and Aptitude screening. Anyone who failed to show up would be investigated for treason, or draft-dodging.
"This is an outrage!"
The heavy glass doors of the veranda slammed open as Lukarys strode in, a matching letter clenched in his fist. His handsome face was flushed with ferocity Lucianne thought impossible for his patience brother.
"They expect you to travel all the way to the capital? In your condition?!" Lukarys slammed his hand onto the stone railing.
Lucianne wanted to comment that his condition as having a "broken core" was most likely being kept under the radar by the count hence the letter arriving for him but held his tongue.
"I just spoke with Father in his study. Even he thinks this is a blatant, disrespectful overreach by the Ministry. You can barely walk down the stairs without losing your breath!"
"Indeed, brother..." Lucianne wheezed on cue, quickly dropping a strawberry back onto the plate and letting his hand tremble as he gripped his silk shawl.
"The sheer thought of a carriage ride... makes my chest tighten. Ahh, the fragile threads of my life..."
"Don't worry, Lucianne," Lukarys interrupted fiercely, kneeling beside his chair and taking his hands.
"I will write a formal protest to the Dean. I'll include the medical reports from our estate physicians. They cannot force a magical invalid to endure a public audit just to satisfy the military's paranoia."
"Young Master Lukarys is correct," Elanora the maid chimed in from the doorway, her eyes flashing with protective fury.
"The young Master Lucianne fainted twice last week just from reading a particularly dramatic chapter of his novel! Sending him to the capital is practically attempted murder!" The young maid playing the harp chimed in with equal fervor.
Lucianne internally applauded his staff. They had completely bought into his act. He was thinking of giving them bonuses, if he could convince his father to give him back his full allowance. And if Lukarys could successfully argue him out of this summon, Lucianne would personally buy the butler and maids a golden jewelry.
Unfortunately, Harrison pulled out a second, smaller note that had been tucked inside the main envelope. His expression was grimmer than before.
"Lord Lukarys... I fear a protest will be futile," Harrison murmured, handing the note to the older brother. "Look at the bottom of the blanket decree."
Lukarys snatched the paper, his eyes scanning the postscript. His jaw tightened, and the anger on his face instantly shifted into a look of profound helplessness.
Lucianne peeked over his brother's shoulder. At the very bottom of the parchment, stamped in a brutal, uncompromising jet-black ink, was the personal crest of the Empire's Commander-in-Chief.
And right next to it was a sharp, elegant signature that looked like it had been carved with a blade: Solomon Aldric Ivanov.
Underneath the signature, a short, handwritten sentence read:
No exemptions. Any household claiming unavailability will be subject to a personal raid and verification by the Imperial Knights.
"The Duke," Lukarys whispered, his voice dropping. "He's personally overseeing the screening. If we refuse, he'll send the Black Knights to drag you there himself."
Lucianne's stomach did a violent flip.
Duke Solomon didn't play games. In the original novel, a noble family tried to fake a sickness to avoid a military draft, and Solomon personally marched into their manor, exposed the lie, and stripped them of their titles by sunset.
If Solomon brought his high-tier sensory knights to the Goetia estate, they might see right through Lucianne's glitched mana core.
Going to the capital was dangerous, but letting the terrifying Duke bring an interrogation squad to his bedroom was a certified death sentence.
Lucianne let out a long, shaky, entirely theatrical sigh. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the plush cushions of his chair, looking like a martyr accepting his grim fate.
"It is fine, brother," he murmured, his voice a delicate whisper.
"We cannot risk Father's standing or the safety of the estate. If His Grace, the Duke, wishes to see a ruined man... then I shall present myself to him."
"Lucianne, no..." Lukarys looked devastated. "The capital is a viper's nest. And that commoner noble boy you used to argue with, Theodore Sully—he's been making quite a name for himself at the academy. If you go back there, the stress—"
"I have no strength left to argue with the Baron's sons, nor do I care for the Academy's rankings," Lucianne said, weakly waving his hand.
"I will simply sit in the back of the auditorium, let their testing crystals confirm that my core is empty, and return home to my sunroom. It will be over in a day."
Internally, Lucianne's mind was racing at Mach five.
Alright, new plan. I need go to the capital early to pick up some things for this event. If his memories serve him right, he will need that item for his continue peaceful life.
I will wear the heaviest, most ridiculous clothes I can find. I ride in a wheelchair. I will look so pathetic and useless that Duke Solomon will look at me with disgust and Theodore won't even bother to glance my way.
He smirked beneath his lace handkerchief. Yes. I'll turn this screening into a masterclass of tomfoolery. I will give them secondhand embarrassment that will last for weeks!
"Harrison," Lucianne wheezed, looking up at the butler. "Pack my trunk. Include my softest blankets, my smelling salts... and my most tragic-looking pink robes. We have a performance to prepare for."