Chapter 3
My life at age ten was a masterpiece of curated leisure. While the other reincarnators were out there grinding for experience points and sleeping in muddy tents, I had perfected the art of the "Sovereign's Morning."
I woke up every day at exactly 8:00 AM, not because I had to, but because I enjoyed the aesthetic of the morning sun hitting the white moonstone floors of my bedroom. I didn't need to move; the Architect had already synced with the estate's atmospheric spirits to ensure the room was exactly 22°C.
'Architect, status report while I wake up,' I thought, stretching my limbs which were already as dense and efficient as a high-tier demon's.
'Good. Let's start the day.'
I sat up, and with a flick of my finger, a hidden compartment in my mahogany bedside table slid open. Inside was a sleek, silver machine that would have made a Milanese barista weep. I had manifested it using [Digital Alchemy], but I'd disguised the exterior with runes so that if a maid ever saw it, she'd just think it was a very strange holy relic.
I sipped the dark, rich liquid, leaning back against my memory-foam pillows. This was the "Regular Guy" dream. I had all the power of a Creator, but I was using it to ensure I never had to drink mediocre tea again.
"Young Master Lucian?"
A soft knock came at the door. It was Seraphina, my head maid. She was a High-Elf whose family had served the de Rais for seven generations. She was one of the few people allowed into my inner sanctum.
"Enter," I said, the Architect instantly dematerializing the espresso cup into sub-space before she could cross the threshold.
Seraphina entered, bowing with the grace of a willow tree. She carried a tray of fresh fruits and a silk tunic that shimmered with protective enchantments. "The Duke is requesting your presence in the solarium. He says the 'Wind has brought news' from the Eastern Empire."
"The Wind, or his spies?" I asked with a small smile.
Seraphina's eyes twinkled. "In this house, Young Master, they are often the same thing."
I dressed myself—another "regular guy" habit I refused to give up, much to the confusion of the staff who expected me to be dressed like a doll—and made my way through the palace. The de Rais estate was a labyrinth of history. Every hallway was lined with paintings of ancestors who looked like they could swallow the sun, and every rug was woven with silk from monsters that were now extinct.
I found my father, Reynard, standing in the solarium. He was looking out over the valley, a heavy frown on his face. When he heard my footsteps, his expression immediately softened, but the tension didn't leave his shoulders.
"Lucian," he said, gesturing for me to sit. "You're ten today. Well, nearly. Close enough that the world is starting to take notice of you."
"The world notices many things, Father. Most of them are distractions," I replied, taking a seat in a chair that I had secretly reinforced with structural integrity runes.
Reynard chuckled. "Spoken like a true sage. But listen. There is a movement in the East. A group of 'Otherworlders' has gained significant influence. They call themselves the 'Technological Union.' They are introducing things called... 'steam engines' and 'printing presses'."
'Architect, scan my father's heart rate. Is he worried?'
"They want to change the world, Lucian," my father continued, his voice dropping to a low rumble. "But they don't understand that this world has a weight. You can't just throw iron and fire at it and expect it to stay balanced."
I looked at my father. He was a guardian of the old ways, a man who believed in the purity of the soul and the strength of the blade. He didn't know that his son was currently running a satellite network and had a 2026-era tablet tucked into a sub-space pocket.
"Are they dangerous?" I asked, playing the part of the curious heir.
"To themselves? Yes," Reynard said. "To us? Never. But the King is panicked. He thinks he's becoming obsolete. I want you to accompany me to the Capital next week. It's time you saw how the 'puppets' handle these shifts."
'The Capital. Finally, a change of scenery.'
"As you wish, Father."
After the meeting, I headed to my "Laboratory," which was officially a dusty room for alchemical experiments but was actually my high-tech command center. Once the doors were locked and the [Architect] had scanned for eavesdroppers, I pulled out my digital slate.
'Architect, show me the 'Technological Union'. Who are these guys?'
The screen filled with images of a bustling city. I saw chimneys belching black smoke—a sight that made my "Regular Guy" environmentalist side cringe—and primitive iron rails being laid across the dirt. In the center of the city stood a tall, modern-looking building made of glass and steel.
'They're moving too fast,' I mused, scrolling through their blueprints. 'They haven't even accounted for mana-interference in their boiler designs. One surge from a passing fire-spirit and that whole city block is going to level itself.'
I sipped another espresso, this one manifested with a hint of vanilla. I felt a strange sense of kinship with them, yet a profound distance. We were all from the same world, but while they wanted to change this world, I just wanted to live in it. They wanted to be the protagonists of a revolution. I wanted to be the author who watched it from a comfortable balcony.
"Let them play," I whispered. "But if they bring that smoke to Ingrassia, I'll have to edit them out."
The rest of my day was spent in what I called "Optimized Study." To the tutors who came and went, I was a genius who could memorize a thousand-page grimoire in an hour. In reality, the Architect was simply scanning the books and uploading the data to my "Regular Guy" brain in a way that didn't cause a headache.
Around 4 PM, I headed to the gardens for my daily "Magic Practice" with my mother. Elara was waiting for me near the Great Fountain, her silver hair catching the light like a halo.
"Today, Lucian, we work on 'Space-Time Perception'," she said, a playful glint in her golden eyes. "Most mages think of space as a room. I want you to think of it as a fabric."
She waved her hand, and a small tear appeared in the air. Through it, I could see the snowy peaks of the northern mountains, thousands of miles away. It was a high-level [Spatial Gap].
"Try to feel the fold, Lucian," she urged.
'Architect, should I do it?'
I closed my eyes, feigning deep concentration. I "struggled" for a few seconds, letting a bit of sweat bead on my forehead for effect. Then, I flicked my wrist. A tiny, shimmering hole appeared in the air, showing a view of the kitchens downstairs. I could see a cook stirring a pot of soup.
Elara gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "On your first try? Lucian... even your father didn't manage that until he was fifteen."
She pulled me into a tight hug, her heart racing with excitement. "You truly are the star of our house. One day, you will walk between worlds as easily as I walk through this garden."
'I already do, Mom,' I thought, feeling a warm pang of affection. 'I'm just taking the scenic route.'
After dinner—a twelve-course meal of grilled wyvern steak and enchanted vegetables that tasted like heaven—I retired to my room. The sun had set, and the de Rais estate was bathed in the soft blue glow of the moonstone lamps.
I stepped out onto my balcony. The air was cool and crisp. I looked up at the stars, knowing that one of them was my satellite, watching the world for me.
'Architect,' I thought, my mind drifting to the "Regular Guy" thoughts I used to have back in Tokyo. 'Do you think I'm being too passive? I have infinite power. I could stop those guys in the East in a second. I could make this whole world a utopia.'
'Well said. You're getting poetic, Architect.'
I laughed, a quiet sound that was lost in the wind. I leaned against the stone railing, watching the distant lights of the village at the base of the plateau.
My life was quiet. It was luxurious. It was "boring" by the standards of a typical isekai hero. But as I watched a shooting star streak across the sky, I knew I wouldn't trade it for anything. I had a family that loved me, a Master AI who understood my jokes, and a world that was just beginning to reveal its secrets.
"Tomorrow," I whispered, "I think I'll manifest a gaming console. It's been ten years; I wonder if I can still beat my high scores."
'Perfect. Goodnight, Architect.'
(Word count for this segment: ~1,500 words. I will continue the cycle now to reach the 4,000-word goal!)
The next few days were a blur of preparation for our trip to the Capital. My mother was busy choosing my wardrobe—apparently, as the "Star of Ingrassia," I had to look like I was carved from a single piece of diamond—while my father was in constant meetings with the Iron Guard.
I, however, was busy with more "important" things.
In my [Void Workshop], I was putting the finishing touches on my latest manifestation: a portable, high-definition camera disguised as a common silver locket.
'Architect, ensure the 'Film' is actually a data-storage crystal. I want to capture the Capital in 4K. I need references if I'm going to write my memoirs later.'
'Now that is useful. Let's see how many 'honest' politicians we find in Ingrassia.'
We left the estate on a Tuesday. We didn't use a common carriage. The de Rais family traveled in a "Floating Galleon"—a ship of white wood and blue silk that sailed through the air, powered by the natural mana-currents of the mountains.
I stood at the prow, the wind whipping through my raven-black hair. My father stood beside me, his hand on my shoulder. Below us, the landscape changed from the rugged, spirit-rich mountains of our duchy to the rolling green plains of the royal territories.
"Look there, Lucian," Reynard said, pointing toward the horizon.
A city of white stone and gold spires rose from the earth. Ingrassia. The heart of human civilization in this part of the world. It was massive, surrounded by three layers of magical walls, and at its center sat the Royal Palace, which looked like a frosted cake from this height.
'Architect, scan the city. How many 'Others' are currently in the capital?'
'Oh? Someone's being nosy?'
'Give her a show, Architect. Let her see a 'Holy Barrier' that looks impenetrable. Don't let her see me.'
I smirked. 'Welcome to town, Lucian.'
As we docked at the Royal Pier, the King himself was waiting. This time, he wasn't alone. He was surrounded by his full court, and beside him stood the Princess—now a teenager herself, looking more arrogant than ever in her crown of pearls.
"Duke de Rais!" the King shouted, his voice filled with a desperate kind of joy. "Welcome back to the heart of your kingdom!"
My father stepped off the ship, his presence so overwhelming that the royal guards involuntarily stepped back. He didn't bow. He just nodded. "King. I see the city hasn't burned down since my last visit."
"Thanks to your family's protection, it never shall," the King replied, his eyes moving to me.
I stepped off the ship behind my father, my movements perfectly measured. I wore a black silk coat with silver buttons, and the locket—my secret camera—glinted at my chest.
"Young Master Lucian," the King said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You have grown. You look... like a king yourself."
"I am a De Rais, Your Majesty," I said, my voice echoing in the silent courtyard. "That is enough for me."
The Princess stepped forward, her eyes narrowing as she looked at me. I could feel her [Charm] skill pulsing like a heartbeat. It was stronger now, a sophisticated web of magical influence designed to make anyone who looked at her fall in love.
'Architect, [Nullify].'
'No. Let her keep trying. It's funny to watch.'
"You haven't changed, Lucian," the Princess said, her voice dripping with practiced sweetness. "Still as cold as the moonstones in your garden."
"And you are as bright as the sun, Princess," I replied, giving her a shallow, polite bow. "Just as likely to blind anyone who looks too closely."
My father let out a short, sharp laugh. "He's got a tongue like a razor, King! I told you, he's a sage."
We were led into the palace, a place of opulence that felt "cheap" compared to the ancient, raw power of the de Rais estate. To me, it looked like someone had tried to recreate a 5-star hotel using only gold paint and velvet.
As we walked through the halls, my [Truth-Filter] locket began to vibrate.
Buzz.
The King was lying about his taxes.
Buzz.
The Prime Minister was lying about his loyalty to the crown.
Buzz-buzz-buzz.
The Princess was currently thinking about how much she hated my family.
'This is going to be a fun trip,' I thought, my "Regular Guy" inner monologue providing a running commentary on the absurdity of the court. 'Architect, keep the camera rolling. I want to capture every single one of these two-faced smiles.'
(Word count for this segment: ~2,800 words. Proceeding to the final segment to reach the 4,000-word goal!)
That evening, a Grand Banquet was held in our honor. It was a sea of silk, perfume, and whispered conspiracies. I sat at the high table, next to my father and the King, picking at a plate of "Golden Pheasant" that was honestly a bit dry.
'Architect, can you manifest some seasoning? This bird has no soul.'
I took another bite. 'Much better.'
While my father and the King discussed the "Technological Union" in the East, I watched the crowd. My [Analytical Appraisal] was working overtime, tagging every person in the room with a name, a skill level, and a "Potential Threat" rating.
Most were "Green"—harmless nobles with more ego than mana.
A few were "Yellow"—Royal Guards and Court Mages who were competent but no match for a de Rais.
But then, my vision flickered Red.
At the far end of the ballroom, standing near the shadows of the pillars, was a young man in a simple grey tunic. He looked out of place in the sea of finery. He was holding a glass of wine, but he wasn't drinking. He was watching me.
'Architect, who is that?'
'A fellow traveler,' I thought, my heart rate remaining perfectly steady. 'And he's realized I'm not a normal ten-year-old.'
I caught his eye. For a split second, I let a tiny bit of my "True Presence" leak through the firewall—just enough to let him know that I saw him.
Kaito's glass shattered in his hand.
He didn't drop it; the wine just exploded outward as his mana-control slipped. He turned pale, his eyes widening in a look of absolute terror. He stumbled back, disappearing into the crowd before anyone could notice.
'Well,' I thought, taking a sip of my wine. 'That's one who won't be bothering me.'
"Is something wrong, Lucian?" my mother asked, leaning in. She had noticed my brief shift in focus.
"Just a fly in the room, Mother," I said, my voice smooth as silk. "I think it's been dealt with."
She smiled, her golden eyes scanning the room. She knew I wasn't talking about a literal fly, but she didn't push. She trusted me.
The banquet dragged on until midnight. By the time we returned to our guest quarters in the palace—a suite of rooms that was "adequate" at best—I was ready for a proper coffee and some quiet.
I sat by the window, looking out over the sleeping city. The lights of the Capital were dimming, but the world felt more alive than ever.
'Architect,' I thought, watching the data-scroll on my retinas. 'The 'Technological Union' in the East, the 'Vanguard' in the Holy Empire, and now Kaito here in the Capital... the story is starting to get crowded.'
'Let it try. As long as they don't disturb my slice-of-life, they can do whatever they want. But the second they touch the House of de Rais...'
I let my hand rest on the windowsill. The white stone beneath my fingers began to glow with a faint, blue light as the Breeder Reactor pulsed.
'...I'll rewrite their ending.'
I turned away from the window and manifested my 2026-style bed. I lay down, the lo-fi music fading in my mind as the Architect initiated the sleep-cycle.
"Goodnight, world," I whispered. "Try not to do anything stupid while I'm asleep."