"I feel like they're trying to manipulate us into doing their bidding. I'm being serious here — don't look at me like I'm not sane!"
"Well... are you sane?"
"Yes, very much so. Hear me out — first, it's classwork, then homework, and next thing you know boom, world domination."
"Altair, your teacher giving you homework has absolutely nothing to do with a plan for world domination. They're not Skarvalocs, are they now?" Caelum replied calmly.
"It's too late for you. They already have you wrapped around their disgusting little fingers," Altair sighed, patting him sympathetically before strolling toward his classroom.
"Unlike Lucien. He's a mile ahead of them — avoiding this whole school nonsense," he added wistfully.
"You do realize he's being homeschooled, right? As in, taught at home," Caelum commented dryly.
"And he's doing it because of his aversion to crowded areas — not because of some ridiculous conspiracy theory you've been cooking up," he added as they reached Altair's class.
"First of all, it's all part of his plan — dragging them out of their comfort zone and into his own.
Second — and most importantly — I have not been blurting nonsense. You're just a victim of denial.
And thirdly — I'll see you during lunch, brother."
Altair puffed his cheeks dramatically and slipped into the classroom with flair.
Caelum simply shook his head, helpless in the face of his brother's daily theatrics. With a quiet sigh, he turned and walked toward his own class.
"He got his dramatics from Father. I wonder how Mother and little Lucien are doing," he muttered under his breath as he moved down the hallway.
---
Meanwhile, back at the manor...
Lucien had already lived through what felt like an entire day — and morning had barely crossed its midpoint.
He'd woken up to the mocking brightness of the sun — a spotlight he neither wanted nor needed. Then, while freshening up, he managed to get lost in his own closet. Again.
As if that wasn't enough humiliation for one morning, he had to come to terms with the fact that, despite being mentally eighteen, he was now once again an eight-year-old boy. A boy who, unfortunately, was expected to go to school.
Normally, this would've been a fantastic opportunity to observe and recruit… paw— cough, potential allies.
But of course, past-Lucien had to be different. Not only had he chosen to be homeschooled, but he had also decided that isolation was better than social interaction. So now here he was — confined to the manor, lessons included — courtesy of his younger self's eccentricity.
He sat in silence for a moment, staring at nothing in particular, then gave himself a much-needed pep talk.
"You weren't stupid back then. You were just... unique.
You can change your fate. You have to. Because if you can't — you, your brothers, and everything you care about will crumble again."
That was motivational enough. With renewed determination, he left his room and headed downstairs — only to immediately catch his mother's gaze.
"Already awake, darling? Come have breakfast with me. After that, we'll start today's lesson," she said softly, sipping tea from her favorite porcelain cup on the couch.
Lucien sighed as if gravity had suddenly tripled. He dragged himself down the stairs and dropped beside her, letting out another exaggerated sigh, just for effect.
She raised a brow in amused disapproval.
"That sighing won't work on me, mister. Learning is not optional — no matter how dramatic you get."
Realizing he'd been seen through, Lucien sighed again — this one genuine.
After she finished her tea, they headed into the dining room for breakfast.
Was breakfast delightful?
Absolutely. His mother always made sure meals were a small piece of heaven.
Was he looking forward to today's lesson?
Sigh... At least his teacher was beautiful.
He grimaced inwardly as she returned with an English essay booklet in hand.
---
By the time their lessons ended, Lucien was physically fine but mentally exhausted. Still, he had something very important to do.
He sat at his desk with a blank sheet of paper and a sharp pencil beside it. There was order to be made.
He began drafting a list of the major arcs that involved his family — combining both his fragmented memories and information he had gathered from Quill's book.
Why?
1. To keep track of his progress
2. Because his obsession with order demanded it
---
Arc List
• Orphan Arc – ✓ Prevented
• Banquet Arc / Meeting Stormblade
• Visit from the Ravens
---
The Orphan Arc had already been successfully dodged — thank the stars. Next in line would likely be the Banquet Arc, but that would only begin after Caelum's awakening.
In his previous life, the banquet had been a slow-burning nightmare. The family had just suffered the devastating loss of their parents, their grandfather, and even Audius — grief hung over the estate like a black veil.
But grief never stops gossip.
They stood in that hall surrounded by polished shoes, glittering gowns, and poisoned whispers. People didn't even bother to lower their voices. Pity, mockery, and speculation swirled together like perfume and rot.
Altair almost lost control. His rage had surged to the surface, but Caelum had stopped him — not with force, but with presence.
Caelum stood and smiled. He thanked every guest who offered condolences, even the ones who sneered. He didn't flinch, didn't crack — even if Lucien could tell it was costing him.
Lucien closed his eyes briefly and shook his head.
No. Not again. This time, we do it right.
---
As he scribbled the final note on the paper, he didn't notice the quiet footsteps behind him — until a hand gently tapped his shoulder.
Lucien flinched and instinctively covered the paper. He turned, only to see Caelum standing behind him with a knowing smile.
He sighed internally. Of course. Eldest brother always knew.
"Eldest brother… you've returned early?" he asked, keeping his tone light, hoping the topic might be deflected.
But Caelum tilted his head, clearly amused.
"You have a lot of explaining to do, little Lucien. But first — Mother made snacks."
'...Nope. He did not drop the matter,' Lucien thought glumly.
They walked toward the door — only to find Altair standing awkwardly outside.
Lucien made a beeline for him, casually standing at his side. Better to cling to the theatrics of chaos than endure Caelum's quiet scheming.
Not that it helped — Caelum's gaze was still on him. He was probably already five moves ahead.
---