On a clear night with stars shimmering in the sky, the once lively banquet in the grand courtyard of a four-story mansion had turned into a sea of panic. The soft music had ceased, replaced by hushed whispers and hurried footsteps.
Amid the chaos, a middle-aged man in an expensive suit strode forward alongside an elderly gentleman of equal stature. His face was dark, his expression filled with rage.
"What do you mean my son was kidnapped?! How could this happen?!" His voice rang sharp through the crowd.
Gustav Valemont—the head of the Valemont family and tonight's host—glared at the three men in black suits standing before him, sweat already dripping from their brows.
"The figure… moved too fast, Patriarch," one of them stammered, his voice trembling. "We didn't even have time to react before young master disappeared."
Gus's fury boiled over. A kidnapping at the Valemont family's banquet? This was an insult he could not tolerate.
He turned to the elderly man beside him. "Rowan, deploy the main forces. You're leading them!"
Rowan, his right-hand man and the Valemont family's head security, nodded without hesitation. "Understood, sir." With a single look at the three men before him, they swiftly departed to carry out his orders.
The guests murmured amongst themselves, most of them wearing tense expressions. Gustav's son was renowned for his exceptional talent.
A kidnapping at the Valemont banquet… whoever was behind this must have a death wish.
Gus took a deep breath, forcing himself to rein in his anger before speaking. "Everyone, I sincerely apologize for this disturbance. My son, Alex Valemont, has been kidnapped by an unknown party!" His voice was firm, echoing across the courtyard. "Whoever finds him will be handsomely rewarded!"
The murmurs grew louder. Some guests, hesitant at first, now showed keen interest. A reward from the Valemont family was not something to be taken lightly.
"I won't force anyone," Gustav continued. "If you wish to enjoy the banquet, please do. But if you want to help, I welcome your efforts."
Immediately, several individuals, especially the younger guests and opportunists, grew excited.
"Hell yeah, I'm going after him!"
"This is a golden chance to get close to the Valemont family!"
Some guests bolted from the courtyard, eager to chase after glory—or at least the promised reward. However, most remained, more interested in enjoying the luxurious event rather than involving themselves in a potentially dangerous hunt.
But at this moment, a young man around eighteen years old, with black hair, rushed toward Gustav with a panicked expression.
"Patriarch Gustav, Patriarch Gustav!" he shouted, causing nearby guests to look his way.
Gustav also noticed the young man.
"What is it?" Gustav said.
"I think it's not only your son who's been kidnapped, your daughter is missing too!" he shouted.
Upon hearing this, the guests grew louder with whispers and gasps. Gustav's expression hardened.
"And now my daughter, Sofia, is also missing!" Gustav shouted.
While the guests grew even more restless, the young man's expression tightened, his brows furrowed. Gustav's reaction wasn't what he expected. But he didn't waste any more time and ran off after her.
He didn't care about Alex. It was Sofia he came for—the only one that mattered to him.
---
Roughly two kilometers from the Valemont mansion, inside a luxurious suite of a high-end hotel, two figures occupied the room.
On the king-sized bed lay a breathtaking young woman, dressed in an elegant white gown. Her chest rose and fell in a soft, steady rhythm, as if she were lost in the most peaceful of dreams. Her long, raven-black hair was spread across the silk pillow, its luster catching the dim ambient light of the room.
She appeared to be around eighteen years old, her skin as pale as porcelain, glowing like moonlight, her lips naturally tinted a soft pink, and her graceful figure radiating the aura of noble lineage.
But the young man sitting on the edge of the bed beside her had no time to admire the sight.
His hands were clutching his head, fingers digging into his scalp, his eyes wide and wild.
"I... reincarnated...?" His voice was barely audible, trembling with disbelief.
Fragments of memories swirled through his mind—his life from another world, and now, this one. And this world... it wasn't unfamiliar to him.
No, it was the opposite. This world was terribly familiar.
It was the setting of a fantasy novel he had once read in his previous life!
And his new identity?
Lucas Drakebane. Eighteen years old. Son of House Drakebane—an ancient and powerful magus family renowned throughout the Englandia Empire.
He should have felt elated. Reborn as a noble, blessed with wealth, power, and magic.
Yet, his face turned pale.
"...No. No, no, no! This can't be real!"
His voice cracked with panic. "I'm... the villain?!"
He remembered every single damned plot point. His fate tonight was a tragic death at the hands of Leon Emery, the protagonist of this world.
Lucas was supposed to be incredibly strong, a second-generation heir of House Drakebane, a genius ranked among the top of the most promising young talents.
But today, he was in the middle of studying the family's magic technique—a forbidden spell that would erase his magic foundation for three days, turning him completely into an ordinary human.
That was why Leon would be able to kill him.
A damn plot twist.
"Shit...! Of all the times possible, why tonight?!"
His breathing grew ragged. His fists clenched tightly, his knuckles turning white from the pressure.
He knew exactly how everything would unfold. Leon, the ever-perfect hero, would effortlessly slaughter the guards, kill him in a dramatic yet one-sided fight, then walk away carrying the girl in his arms. A flawless victory.
House Drakebane would eventually learn of this. Enraged and humiliated, they would try everything to take revenge—only to suffer crushing defeat after crushing defeat.
Leon Emery would become untouchable because of his damn thick plot armor.
And House Drakebane? Destroyed. Wiped out.
A family that had stood for over a thousand years... gone because of Leon.
A textbook hero fantasy plot.
But as the weight of that fate pressed down on him, something within Lucas ignited.
Not fear.
Not despair.
But defiance.
"No. I won't die here. Not like this. Not at his hands!"
He had to rewrite everything!
Lucas's gaze fell on the spatial ring on his finger. He activated it, sensing the contents within: spare robes, magic crystals, healing potions... and something else.
His eyes narrowed.
He pulled out a small black object—lightweight, about the size of his palm.
A mechanical spider.
Beside it, a fingertip-sized controller with a single crimson button.
"This... should do."
---
Meanwhile, in the same hotel, a young man stumbled through the dimly lit hallway, his breath ragged, eyes darting from one door to the next.
It was the same young man who had shouted about Sofia's disappearance back at the banquet.
Leon Emery.
His chest rose and fell rapidly as he all but ran down the corridor, his suit slightly wrinkled from the frantic pace he'd kept since fleeing the mansion. Sweat clung to his brow, his pulse pounding in his ears like war drums.
From time to time, he lifted his hand to his nose, breathing in deeply. The scent was still there—faint but clear. It stayed on his skin like a quiet trace, something only he could feel. And now, he was here—one of the many searching for Alex and Sofia.
But unlike the others, he wasn't lost.
His steps were fast and uneven, his body tense. He didn't look calm—he looked like someone chasing something important, something he couldn't afford to lose. Fear was pressing down on him with every step.
He had no time to think clearly.
Back at the banquet, he had shaken Sofia's hand—just once—but that was enough. He had memorized her scent in that short moment. It was a skill he had trained for years, and it had never failed him.
Now, he followed it through the hotel like a lifeline. The closer he got, the stronger the scent became. On the third floor, the air felt different—heavier, familiar.
He stopped.
Right in front of one specific door.
His heart was racing. His breathing was fast. He stood there, frozen for a second.
The scent—it was coming from inside.
His hand moved toward the doorknob but stopped halfway, shaking slightly. His eyes were wide. His mind was racing with thoughts, but one feeling stood out above everything:
This was it.
He swallowed hard, and in a low, shaky voice, he whispered:
"I found it…"