The system window shimmered faintly in the night air.
Adam stared at it, eyes wide and mouth hanging half-open like a broken puppet.
[Help Your Eldest Sister Achieve a Breakthrough in Her Flame Magic]
Reward: Unlock either [Mana] or [Aura] stat.
His breath hitched.
"Mana…?"
The word tumbled out like a forbidden chant. He repeated it again, this time slower, tasting it on his tongue.
"Mana."
Then he jolted upright, fists clenched, heart hammering.
"This is insane—this is huge! Mana?! Are you kidding me?!"
He would've shouted to the heavens if he wasn't terrified the maids would hear and scurry away again like mice spotting a cat. Instead, he spun around in the darkened hallway, waving his pudgy arms at the sky.
"I take it back! I take everything back! Thank you, gods—whichever one of you reincarnated me and threw me this bone, thank you!"
A system. A golden finger. His very own cheat code.
He'd been trapped in the rotting shell of the game's most pathetic loser, but now? Now he had quests. With rewards.
And not just any reward.
Mana.
The lifeblood of this world.
Women could wield it. Command it. Rewrite reality with it.
Men?
Men were pretty face-vases who couldn't use it even if they bathed in it.
Sure, they had mana in them. It just floated around uselessly, unable to exit or enter without a woman forcibly pulling it through… intimate means.
Which made men valuable as resources, not wielders.
And if he could unlock mana use?
He wouldn't just be breaking the rules. He'd be erasing them.
The first man in history who could wield mana like a woman.
"Holy sh—"
He stopped himself, biting his knuckle, trying not to squeal.
But then he froze.
Because that meant…
He had to help Laylee.
His gaze drifted back to the open courtyard, where his tall, proud sister was still standing in the middle of the polished stone arena, a flickering flame hovering over her hand.
She didn't notice him yet.
Not surprising. She'd never paid him much attention before.
And the last few times they'd interacted? He was pretty sure Adam had either insulted her dress or tried to order her around like a spoiled little tyrant.
So, yeah. Their relationship?
Trash.
And now he had to approach her like nothing happened?
Adam rubbed his temples, pacing behind the pillar.
"Okay… Think. What does she like again…"
He tried to recall every piece of flavor text, every optional cutscene. Laylee Blake, the eldest daughter of House Blake. A future marquess, a woman of steel, dignity, and ambition.
She respected results. Strength. People who knew what they were doing.
Not whiny, wobbly-voiced brothers who slapped servants and cried when the pie ran out.
"Okay then," he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. "Then I won't be a wimp."
He looked at her again.
The fireball in her hand trembled, its color shifting between orange and dull red. She hissed and let it fade, shaking her head with a frown.
She looked gorgeous.
Tall, athletic, sharp lines under her sleeveless training coat. Her exposed arms gleamed with a faint sheen of sweat under the moonlight, and her platinum hair shimmered like silver thread.
In the game, she'd been one of his early crushes. Not because she was sweet—she wasn't. Not because she doted on anyone—she didn't. But because she was real. Grounded. Strong. Her route never became romance material in-game, but she had a presence.
And now, seeing her in the flesh…?
Adam took a breath.
His chest still heaved slightly with the effort of walking all the way here, and his body was still a disaster—but if he wanted that mana, he had to put on a new mask.
He stepped forward.
Laylee blinked.
The sound of footsteps caught her attention, and she turned.
Her green eyes narrowed, lips pressing into a faint line.
"…Brother?"
The word came out slowly. Not cold, but… cautious. Like she wasn't sure if she should grab her sword or pretend she hadn't noticed.
Her gaze slid over him—down to his double chin, then his sweaty neckline, then the oil-stained hem of his too-small tunic.
Disgust. Disappointment. Maybe curiosity.
All rolled into one polite expression.
He didn't flinch.
Instead, he stopped at the edge of the court, squinting at the faint traces of mana that still lingered in the air.
Then he pointed at the spot where her flame had fizzled.
"You're premature in your applications."
Her eyes twitched.
"…Excuse me?"
"Your theories are sound, but your execution is flawed. You're forcing your will into a shape the mana's not ready to hold yet."
Adam stepped onto the court, arms crossed.
"Mana harmonizes best when guided by resonance, not pressure. You're compressing it like a Tier 10 brute trying to brute-force a shield spell. That's why your color modulation keeps collapsing."
Silence.
Laylee stared.
Adam stood there, trying not to sweat more than usual.
She tilted her head, one eyebrow raised.
"…You. Are. Lecturing. Me?"