In the vast and ancient continent of Atherion, where strength is measured not by bloodline or wealth, but by the might of one's abilities, there stood a proud and powerful empire known as the Empire of Solmere. It was a realm built on the foundations of strength, honor, and legacy—an empire where power dictated one's destiny.
Among its towering noble houses, none stood taller than the Dukedom of Virelion—a household as old as the empire itself. Revered across the land, the Dukedom was known not only for its immense military power and strategic significance but also for its overwhelming wealth and influence, second only to the royal family. There was an old saying whispered in the halls of the old families: "The founding rival of Solmere's first emperor was none other than the founder of Virelion." Though considered a legend by many, the story held weight in noble circles, shaping the perception of House Virelion as not just a supporting pillar of the empire—but its shadow equal.
Today was a day of great significance within the Virelion estate. The air buzzed with anticipation, as the Duchess of Virelion, beloved wife of Duke Ceal Virelion, was about to give birth to their first child. Servants moved with a quiet urgency. The knights outside stood taller. And the household waited with bated breath.
Then, at long last, the first cries of a newborn pierced through the stone halls like music from the heavens.
Within the grand chamber, the Duchess—despite the exhaustion of labor—held her newborn son in her arms with a serene expression. Her long, flowing hair, black as the night sky, cascaded over her shoulders and touched her hips, and her emerald-green eyes shimmered with gentle affection. Even moments after childbirth, her beauty was otherworldly—graceful, dignified, and utterly breathtaking. It was whispered among maids that she looked like a queen even while resting, and now, with a child in her arms, she resembled a goddess from a tale of old.
The child, nestled in her arms, was no less mesmerizing. His skin was soft and unblemished, his tiny face so perfect it seemed carved by the hand of a god who played favorites. A smile touched the Duchess's lips as she stared at him, overcome with awe, love, and a sense of divine pride.
Soon after, Duke Ceal Virelion entered the chamber. A tall, imposing man, known across the empire as the Lion of Solmere, the Duke had commanded armies since his youth and carried the weight of both legacy and battlefield with honor. But now, his ever-serious gaze softened as he approached his wife and child. He gently caressed the Duchess's cheek and leaned over the sleeping child with a warm smile rarely seen on his face.
"He looks exactly like you," he whispered, voice deep but tender. "Beautiful… as if sculpted by the gods themselves."
The Duchess let out a soft laugh and lightly tapped his arm. "Stop teasing me," she said playfully. "We haven't even given him a name yet."
"I'm not joking," he said, gaze still fixed on the boy.
"Well then," she said with a gentle nudge, "what shall we name our son?"
The Duke's voice was low, reverent. "Aether. Aether Virelion."
The name settled into the room like a blessing. The Duchess smiled and nodded. "Aether… it's perfect."
But as the parents rejoiced, the newborn boy's eyes stirred slightly. Of course, neither parent noticed the strange glint that passed through them. That was because he was no ordinary child. Deep inside that fragile body rested the soul of a high school student from Earth—a boy who had died under suspicious circumstances in what was supposed to be a "freak accident." Whether he had been targeted or simply at the wrong place at the wrong time no longer mattered. He had grown tired of life. Tired of loneliness. And now, in this strange, magical world, his second chance had begun.
He did not yet know it, but his existence alone would ripple through the threads of fate and shake the very foundations of this world.
Two years later, far across the empire, another life began.
A daughter was born to Viscount Bluberg, a lesser noble with modest holdings. Her name was Amber Bluberg. In the grand story of the world, she was meant to be a mere footnote—a background character, mentioned perhaps once or twice in passing, only to fade into obscurity. But fate had other plans.
For within Amber's body resided the soul of a modern-day college student from Earth—one who had read the novel version of this world two or three times and knew its plot like the back of her hand. Her favorite character had always been the villain, and her greatest regret from reading the story was that he was never saved. Now, with this new life, she had one goal: protect the villain she loved and rewrite his tragic end.
And she wasn't the only one.
The villainess, Liza Heimston, daughter of Duke Heimston, was also reborn. In the original story, she had been condemned and executed by the hero for crimes never proven, all in the name of "the greater good." Now, with full knowledge of her fate, she swore to live freely—and to kill the so-called hero before he could repeat history.
Even the heroine, Kyle Shappore, was given another chance at life. In her past, she had watched helplessly as the empire fell into ruin due to the arrogance and recklessness of the hero. Now reborn, she sought redemption—not just for herself, but for the world.
And then there was the hero himself—Zanixm Phalanstome. His body was no longer inhabited by the naive youth of the novel, but by a seasoned warrior from another world, one who had once saved his own from demonic beasts. Chosen by divine prophecy, he was tasked with saving this world as well, and he was told he would soon meet both his destined enemy… and his fated lover.
Eight years later, when Aether Virelion reached the age of ten, his life was about to take a turn.
An invitation arrived from the royal palace itself—an invitation to the grand birthday celebration of His Royal Majesty, the Emperor of Solmere, marking his 40th year. All prominent nobles and their families were summoned, and for the first time, Aether would be formally introduced to high society. The ball would be held in the imperial castle, located in the capital, a mere day's journey from the Virelion estate.
Until now, Aether had remained a mystery—sheltered from the public eye. Rumors swirled about the Duke's son: some called him a prodigy, others whispered strange things about his presence. None had seen him, but all were curious. And yet, the boy himself felt nothing.
He was calm. Collected. Cold.
To outsiders, he behaved like an aloof child—distant and unreadable. But within the walls of his estate, he wore a different mask. He was the perfect son: cute, polite, affectionate toward his parents, his butler, the maids, and even the knights who trained near him. He had learned to wear many faces. But no one truly knew what lay beneath that beautiful expression.
Not even him.
He had no idea how drastically this single event—the emperor's ball—would alter the future.
For at that celebration, all the players of fate would gather: the hero, the heroine, the villainess, the novel-reader, and the villain himself, Aether.
Amber Bluberg was ecstatic. She would finally meet the character she had admired most. Her heart raced with anticipation, swearing once again to protect him no matter the cost.
Liza Heimston prepared herself in silence. She would meet both Aether—the strange, unreadable boy—and the so-called hero who had once murdered her.
Kyle Shappore, the heroine, quietly readied herself to reunite with the figures who would decide the fate of this world.
And Zanixm Phalanstome—the hero, the chosen warrior of another world—sharpened his senses. He had received a divine oracle: "You will meet your destined enemies… and your destined love."
But Aether knew none of this. He had no schemes, no plans. To him, it was just another event in a world that hadn't yet piqued his interest.
"Maybe something interesting will happen," he thought vaguely, as the day before the party arrived.
And thus, the wheels of destiny began to turn.