"Well, I don't know why you'd want to know much about me. If you look past the headlines, I'm just a normal guy who works, eats, sleeps, and games. There really isn't much else to say.
But if you're asking what I do for work? I use my technology to save people. I own a company—Lucas Dreamscape—that builds futuristic tech designed to make the world a little safer. I'm the owner, Lucas Grand. I know the rumors. A lot of people say my company is just a massive cover-up for something darker, but that couldn't be further from the truth.
I pride myself on keeping people safe. That's why I don't just build gadgets; I fund my own hospitals and deploy my own rescue crews. The government has theirs, and I have mine. I've even built schools for all majors, trying to give a fighting chance to anyone in need. I just want to help.
The flashing of camera lenses pulled me back to the present. I was standing at the podium, staring out at a sea of journalists.
'Mr. Grand,' a news reporter called out, shoving a microphone forward. 'What are your thoughts on the world government wanting your expertise in tech to manufacture weapons for them?'
I leaned into the mic, keeping my voice steady. 'I will have to decline their offer. I don't want my inventions to cause harm. That isn't why I—'
POP. THUD.
A sharp, deafening ring pierced my ears. The world tilted violently, and before I could process what was happening, the cold stage floor slammed into the side of my face.
Why am I on the floor?
Screams erupted around me, muffled and distant, like I was underwater. Chaos swallowed the room, but a strange, heavy numbness was already washing over me. I tried to push myself up, but my arms wouldn't respond. I couldn't move a single muscle.
So, this is how it ends. I died because I simply didn't want to become a weapon? It was almost funny. People in power really are that petty.
My vision faded to black, the panic of the crowd slipping away into total silence. But then, cutting through the heavy darkness, a voice echoed in my mind—ancient, commanding, and impossible to ignore.
'Wake up.'
My eyes snapped open, expecting the blinding white lights of my own hospital wards or the stinging pain of a gunshot wound. Instead, the air was cool and smelled faintly of burning incense. I pushed myself up off a cold, intricately carved stone floor.
When I finally took in my surroundings, the scenery was completely foreign—and more than a little weird.
"Welcome, young hero. I am glad we were able to summon you," a raspy voice echoed through the vast, dimly lit room.
I blinked, my vision focusing on an old man standing a few feet away. He was surrounded by dozens of other people, all draped in heavy, matching robes that looked straight out of a cult gathering.
Panic spiked for a second before pure confusion took over. I quickly looked down at my hands, flexing my fingers, and patted my chest and head. No blood. No bandages. No bullet hole.
"Everything feels normal," I muttered, mostly to myself, before looking back at the crowd. "Is this a prank? Did my rescue crew set this up after I recovered?"
The old man furrowed his brow, exchanging bewildered glances with his robed colleagues. He clearly had no idea what a rescue crew was. He turned his attention back to me, raising a placating hand.
"This is no prank, hero," the old man said, his tone careful but urgent. "We summoned you here. You must be quite confused. Shall we move somewhere else to talk?"
I pondered the situation for a moment, my mind racing. Maybe it isn't a prank, I thought. But if it is, I'll be able to tell by whatever room they take me to next. No rescue crew could fake a whole facility on short notice.
"Alright," I said, keeping my guard up. "Let's change spots, then."
The old man nodded gracefully and gestured for me to follow. He led me out of the dimly lit chamber and into a massive, sweeping corridor. As we walked, the reality of the situation began to set in. The architecture was breathtaking—towering stone pillars and high arched ceilings that looked nothing like the modern world I knew.
This definitely wasn't a prank.
We passed by several people along the way. Maids in traditional, pristine dresses paused their work to bow, while guards clad in genuine, heavy suits of armor stood at attention. I could feel their eyes lingering on me as I walked beside the old man. None of this looked like costumes or movie props; it felt entirely real. It felt like a fantasy.
The heavy, undeniable truth finally hit me: I really did die on that stage, and now, I was in a completely new world.
As my eyes wandered along the corridor walls, I noticed massive, ornate oil paintings depicting a royal family. In the center of the largest portrait was a slightly younger version of the old man walking right beside me, a gleaming crown resting on his head. A golden plaque beneath the frame read King Isaac.
I swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of who I was dealing with.
Eventually, the heavy stone walls gave way to the open air. King Isaac led me out into a sprawling royal garden, bursting with vibrant, colorful flora I couldn't even begin to identify. In the center of the lush greenery sat an elegant, wrought-iron table.
The King took a seat and motioned for me to sit across from him. The quiet rustle of the leaves filled the silence as we settled in, ready to finally talk.
Before taking my seat at the elegant garden table, I stopped and offered a deep, sincere bow.
"Before we begin, I would like to apologize to you, King Isaac," I said, keeping my head lowered. "I'm sorry for my earlier disbelief and for any disrespect I showed you in the summoning hall."
"Raise your head, Hero," the old King replied, a gentle, weary smile touching his lips. "You had no idea who I was, and all of this is entirely new to you. I could never be angry at a man who was abruptly taken from his home and thrust into an unfamiliar world."
He gestured gracefully toward the wrought-iron chair opposite him. Assured we were on good terms, I finally sat down, the cool metal pressing against my back.
"So, Your Majesty," I began cautiously, folding my hands on the table. "Why exactly am I here in this world?" I already had a feeling I knew where this was going. In every game or story I knew, it was always one of two answers: fight a dark lord, or fight in a war.
King Isaac let out a long, heavy sigh that seemed to age him right before my eyes.
"A civil war is brewing," he confessed, his gaze dropping to the table. "My time as ruler is coming to an end, and my two sons are already fighting over the crown. They crave power and control above all else, and they view our soldiers as nothing more than expendable pawns."
He paused, looking back up at me with a sudden intensity. "But my daughter... she is different. She genuinely cares about our citizens. She sees everyone as important, as human. She is by far the most fit to rule."
"Then what's the problem?" I asked.
"She is considered weak," Isaac admitted softly. "She lacks the drive to fight her own brothers for the throne. She needs to be motivated to join this battle—and to win it—for the sake of our people. I want you to guide her and help her grow into the leader she was meant to be."
The King leaned forward, his eyes locked onto mine. "Can you do it?"
I looked at the King and smiled, a familiar sense of purpose washing over me. "It would be an honor. Helping people—especially those in need—is what I do best."
I stood up from the wrought-iron chair and held my hand out across the table, offering a firm handshake to show my acknowledgement of the heavy task before me.
King Isaac stood, his eyes shining with profound relief, and grasped my hand. His grip was surprisingly strong for a man of his age.
"I'm Lucas, by the way," I introduced myself, giving his hand a respectful shake before letting go. "And it looks like I have a lot of work to do. Where can I meet your daughter?"
The King smiled happily, the heavy burden on his shoulders seemingly lightened. "She is currently studying at the Royal Academy. I will have one of my personal guards and my most trusted butler escort you to her immediately."
He raised a hand, snapping his fingers. Almost instantly, two figures emerged from the garden's arched stone entryway. One was a towering man encased in polished silver armor, a massive broadsword strapped to his back. The other was an older gentleman in a sharp, immaculate tailcoat, holding himself with perfect, stiff posture.
"This is Sir Cedric," the King said, gesturing to the knight, "and my head butler, Arthur. They will ensure you arrive safely and provide you with whatever you may need along the way."
"A pleasure to meet you, Sir Lucas," Arthur said with a crisp, flawless bow. Cedric simply offered a stoic, silent nod.
Before I knew it, I was being led out of the palace courtyard and into a lavish, horse-drawn carriage. As we rolled through the royal capital, I stared out the window. The city was a blur of cobblestone streets, bustling open-air markets, and towering stone spires that looked like they belonged in a painting.
When the carriage finally rolled to a halt, I stepped out and looked up. The Royal Academy was breathtaking—a sprawling fortress of white stone, massive stained-glass windows, and lush courtyards. Students in elegant, matching uniforms hurried between buildings, carrying thick leather-bound tomes and... were those glowing staffs?
I took a deep breath, trying to push down the overwhelming feeling that I was entirely out of my depth.
"Right," I muttered to myself, adjusting my clothes. "Time to go to school."
The interior of the Royal Academy was even more impressive than the outside. As I followed Arthur, the King's head butler, down the sweeping, sunlit corridors toward the headmaster's office, I couldn't help but take in the sights.
We walked past students of all ages. I saw a group of kids who couldn't have been older than seven giggling as they levitated small wooden blocks, right alongside young adults in their late teens poring over massive, glowing grimoires.
"Looks like the Academy doesn't mind how old you are," I remarked, glancing over at Arthur. "If you want to learn, you can learn. I respect that quite a bit. Back home, my schools operated on a similar principle. Education shouldn't have an age limit."
Arthur offered a polite nod without breaking his brisk, perfect stride. "Indeed, Sir Lucas. The Academy groups students by their magical aptitude and dedication rather than their mere years. Though, I must admit, it is rare to see a grown man such as yourself arriving as a new face."
Just then, a young boy—maybe eight years old—darted out of a side classroom, completely distracted by a floating, glowing orb he was chasing. He collided right into my legs, tumbling backward and dropping a stack of heavy parchment.
"Whoa there, easy now," I said, quickly kneeling down to help him gather his scattered papers. I handed them back with a reassuring smile. "You've got to watch where you're flying that thing, buddy. Keep yourself safe."
The boy's eyes went wide. He quickly bowed, squeaking out a frantic, "Sorry, sir!" before scurrying off down the hall.
Arthur smiled faintly. "You have a gentle way with the students, Sir Lucas. That will serve you well."
Before I could reply, a sharp, authoritative voice cut through the background chatter of the hallway.
"Arthur? Whatever is His Majesty's head butler doing gracing our halls today?"
I looked up to see a tall, stern-looking man in deep purple robes blocking our path. He adjusted a pair of half-moon spectacles, his sharp gaze shifting from Arthur to me with clear suspicion.
"Professor Vance," Arthur greeted smoothly, offering a shallow, practiced bow. "I am here on the King's direct orders."
"The King?" Professor Vance repeated, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "And who, pray tell, is this? He isn't dressed like Academy staff, nor does he possess the magical aura of an instructor."
"This is Sir Lucas," Arthur explained, his tone perfectly polite but leaving no room for argument. "His Majesty has personally appointed him to meet with the Princess. Sir Lucas is here to act as her new guide and instructor, to help her grow her potential and prepare her for the future."
Professor Vance scoffed softly, looking me up and down. "The Princess? Another tutor for Her Highness? Well, let us hope you have more luck motivating her to fight than the last three did, 'Sir Lucas.' She is... a rather stubborn challenge."
"I like a challenge," I replied evenly, meeting the professor's critical gaze without blinking. "And I'm not exactly like her last tutors."
Vance gave a dismissive hum and finally stepped aside, allowing us to pass.
"A bit tightly wound, isn't he?" I muttered to Arthur as we continued down the corridor.
"Professor Vance demands strict excellence," Arthur replied diplomatically. "But do not let his skepticism deter you. Ah, here we are."
Arthur came to a halt in front of a massive set of double doors carved from dark, polished oak. The headmaster's office.
Arthur knocked twice on the heavy oak doors before pushing them open. I braced myself, expecting to see a wizened old wizard with a long white beard sitting behind a dusty desk.
Instead, the office was a whirlwind of color and motion. Stacks of books floated through the air, sorting themselves into shelves, while glowing crystals orbited the ceiling like miniature suns. And sitting cross-legged on the headmaster's desk was a young woman who looked like she was barely in her early twenties, casually tossing a ball of crackling blue energy from hand to hand.
The moment the doors clicked shut, her head snapped up. Her bright eyes immediately locked onto me, and the ball of energy vanished with a sharp pop.
"Well, well, well," she said, her voice practically vibrating with energy. In the blink of an eye, she floated off the desk and drifted right into my personal space, leaning in with a playful smirk. "Arthur, you didn't tell me you were bringing such a handsome distraction to my office today. Are you a new professor? Because I suddenly feel like taking a few extra classes."
I took a smooth, measured step back, offering her a polite but firm smile. "I appreciate the compliment, ma'am, I truly do. But I'm strictly here on business today."
She pouted for a split second before bursting into a delighted laugh, her boots finally touching the stone floor. "Oh, I like him! He's professional."
Arthur cleared his throat, his posture as impossibly stiff as ever. "Sir Lucas, allow me to introduce Headmaster Lilia. I advise you not to let her youthful exuberance deceive you; she is widely recognized as the single strongest mage on this continent."
I blinked, re-evaluating the cheerful young woman standing in front of me. The strongest mage on the continent? I gave her a respectful nod. "It's an honor to meet you, Headmaster Lilia."
"Just Lilia is fine for you, handsome," she winked, before turning her attention to the butler. "So, Arthur, what business does the King's right-hand man have with me?"
"We are here on His Majesty's direct orders," Arthur explained, his tone serious. "Sir Lucas has been appointed as the new mentor and guide for the Princess. We need to know her current whereabouts."
The playful energy instantly drained from Lilia's face, replaced by a sharp, calculating look that finally matched her title. She crossed her arms, studying me much more closely this time.
"The Princess?" Lilia echoed, her voice dropping a register. "King Isaac must see something truly special in you, Lucas. That girl has a heart of gold, but getting her to actually embrace her magic and fight? It's like talking to a brick wall. She's chased off every instructor we've thrown at her."
"I've been told she's a bit stubborn," I replied evenly, keeping my confidence steady. "But back where I'm from, I ran a company that relied on finding people's hidden potential and giving them a reason to use it. I don't plan on forcing her to fight. I plan on figuring out what she actually cares about."
Lilia's eyes widened slightly, and a genuine, impressed smile spread across her face. "You know... you just might be exactly what she needs. She's out in the northern training courtyard right now. Try not to let her intimidate you."
I smiled, naturally accepting the challenge. "Don't worry," I said confidently. "She can't be that bad."
Right on cue, the heavy oak doors swung open.
A young woman strode into the office, carrying herself with an unmistakable, aristocratic grace. She held her chin high and her posture was absolutely perfect, though the slight scuff marks on her elegant academy uniform told me she had just come from the training yard. The air in the room seemed to shift the second she crossed the threshold.
She stopped in her tracks, narrowing her eyes as she looked from Lilia, to Arthur, and finally to me. She crossed her arms, shifting her weight to one side.
"Who can't be that bad?" she asked, her voice dripping with a refined, piercing sass.
Arthur immediately executed a flawless bow. "Princess. Allow me to introduce Sir Lucas. Your father has personally appointed him to be your new mentor and guide."
The Princess let out a sharp, dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes as she looked me up and down.
"Another one? Really, Arthur? My father is getting incredibly desperate," she scoffed, her gaze entirely unimpressed. "Let me guess, he's here to teach me how to incinerate my enemies so I can drag myself onto the throne? Look at him, he doesn't even have a magical aura. He looks like a civilian."
"I prefer the term 'guide', actually," I interjected smoothly, offering a polite but firm smile. "I'm Lucas."
She didn't soften. "I don't need a guide, Lucas," she shot back, matching my steady gaze. "I am eighteen years old. I'm an adult, not some helpless toddler who needs a babysitter shoved down her throat just because I refuse to play my father's violent little war games. So, if you're here to force me to fight my brothers, you can turn right back around and leave."
Lilia watched the exchange from her desk, quietly sipping from a teacup that had floated into her hand, clearly enjoying the show.
I didn't flinch or back down. In my years running a company, I had dealt with hostile board members, aggressive reporters, and stubborn investors. A sassy eighteen-year-old royalty wasn't going to make me break a sweat.
"I'm not here to force you to do anything," I said calmly, keeping my hands relaxed at my sides. "I'm here to help you win the throne without shedding a single drop of blood."
That made her pause. The defensive tension in her shoulders dropped just a fraction, and the sharp glare in her eyes shifted into genuine curiosity. She let her arms fall to her sides.
"Without shedding blood?" she repeated, her voice losing some of its previous bite. "My brothers have entire military battalions backing them. They have the support of the wealthiest nobles. How exactly do you plan on beating that without fighting?"
"By fighting a different kind of war," I explained, taking a step forward. "Back where I'm from, we call it public relations. Right now, your brothers are focused on power, control, and military might. They see the citizens as expendable. But true power doesn't come from fear or force—it comes from loyalty."
She tilted her head, giving me her full attention now. "Go on."
"We need to focus on your public appearance," I said, firmly in my element now. "You need to go out into the streets and help the citizens face-to-face. You use your own power, your own time, and your own money—nobody else's. You don't rely on the crown's treasury. We build shelters, we provide food, we heal the sick. If you want to show them you are the rightful ruler, you have to prove that you actually care about their survival."
I met her gaze, making sure she understood the weight of my words. "Armies can be defeated. Fear breeds rebellion. But when you win the people's hearts, you win the throne. They will rise up and choose you themselves."
Silence fell over the headmaster's office. Lilia was grinning from ear to ear, clearly thrilled by the strategy, while the stoic Arthur gave a small, approving nod.
The Princess stared at me for a long moment, processing the plan. The sass from earlier was completely gone, replaced by a spark of real, fiery determination.
"Using my own magic and my own resources to actually help the people directly..." she murmured softly. A confident smirk slowly spread across her face, and she finally stood up straight. "You know, Lucas... that is the first intelligent thing a tutor has ever said to me."
"You know, you're smart and hot," Lilia chimed in, leaning forward on her desk with a delighted sigh. "Definitely my type of man. Are you sure you wouldn't rather just stay here and work at the Academy?"
I gave her a brief, polite smile, brushing off the comment without missing a beat. "Flattering, Lilia, but like I said—strictly business. We have a kingdom to save."
I turned my attention back to the Princess, who was watching the exchange with a mix of amusement and newfound respect.
"But before we can go out and start your public campaign," I continued, slipping naturally into my project-planning mindset, "I have some work to do. I may not have magical powers like you or your brothers, but I have my engineering. I'm going to need access to some specific parts, metals, and materials."
The Princess tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. "Materials? For what?"
"For starters, I need to build myself a pair of smart glasses and a specialized, protective suit," I explained. "Just in case things get dangerous out in the city. If I'm going to be by your side, I need to be able to analyze our surroundings on the fly and ensure I don't become a liability in a fight."
Arthur offered a crisp nod from the corner of the room. "I can arrange for the royal blacksmiths and artificers to provide you with whatever raw materials, magic crystals, or tools you require, Sir Lucas."
"Perfect," I said. "Because that's just phase one. The second thing I need is a plot of land. I'm going to start designing and constructing a 'smart building' to serve as our central operations."
"A... smart building?" the Princess asked, her brow furrowing in confusion at the foreign term. "What is that? And why do we need a new building? I live in a palace."
"Because you aren't going to be operating out of your father's palace anymore," I told her firmly. "If you want to prove to the citizens that you are an independent leader who truly cares, you need to step out of the King's shadow entirely. We aren't just doing random charity work. I want you to build your own business."
I held her gaze, letting the scale of the plan really sink in. "A business dedicated to protecting and elevating the people, funded and run by you. We build your legacy from the ground up."