Chapter 1: "Morning Slap to Midnight Audition"
Lucas Cain's eyes flew open to a sonic boom of lips-on-cheek.
"LUCAS!"
"Oh, great. Morning, Mom." He rubbed the other side of his cheek, where her silk robe sleeve hadn't reached.
"Acting is life, darling! Today—you breathe tragedy, you embody rage, you… you…"
"Can I just have breakfast?" he groaned.
She paused mid-flounce. "Oh! Yes. Breakfast first."
As he stumbled downstairs, the kitchen smelled of French toast and lavender tea—subtly luxurious, the very signature of the Cain family's reputation in high society. His mother, Mrs. Cain, flipped eggs with dramatic flair. To Lucas, these were just everyday chores. To the rest of the world, Abigail Cain was an Emotion Amplify—her trait had once made her the most celebrated stage actress in three continents.
"Your sister's off shooting her latest drama," she chirped. "Oliver's practicing your duet."
"Duet?" Lucas blinked, scarfing toast.
"Sibling scene. Next week."
At the living room doorway stood his younger brother, Oliver, draped in a Shakespearean costume. He recited in booming cadence: "O, speak again, bright angel…"
Lucas peered around the ruffles. "Bro, I thought tonight was monologues."
Oliver waved a gloved hand. "They snuck in a duet round. Don't panic."
Lucas sighed and shoveled another bite. Just another day in the Cain dynasty.
---
He shouldered his backpack and left for campus, blissfully unaware that every step he took rippled through people's minds. His own trait, Reflective Persona, was a legacy of his Original Ancestor's property of Perception, which meant that any observer projected their own expectations onto him.
To Dr. Sandoval, the literature professor who scribbled notes as he passed, Lucas was the reclusive poet—a wounded genius silently reenacting tragedies.
To Maya Shah, the cheerful barista at the quad café, he was the benevolent benefactor—the rich kid who always tipped generously and insisted everyone else's latte was on him.
When he ordered a double espresso, Maya beamed. "Your usual treat?"
He shrugged. "Just two espressos."
Already she whisked away.
---
He waved at a cluster of classmates trading gossip: "I heard his family owns half the theaters in the city." "He must be dating someone famous." Lucas gave a faint smile, thinking, Why does everyone treat me like a celebrity? All he felt was a flutter of nerves for tonight's audition.
---
By evening, Lucas had changed into a charcoal shirt (Mother's orders) and practiced his neutral expression in the mirror. He mouthed to himself:
> Be confident, but not arrogant. Be powerful, but not scary.
He glanced at his phone: 7:00 PM — pre-audition check-in. 7:30 PM — monologue round. 8:30 PM — duet with Oliver. He slung his bag over one shoulder and stepped into the neon-lit streets—where skyscrapers of glass and chrome contrasted with alleys spattered in cryptic graffiti. A world at peace above ground, but below: a hidden underworld of crime syndicates, rumors of a mysterious boss called "Mr. Nobody" who had the city trembling.
Lucas frowned. That nickname sounds ominous.
He soon found himself at a narrow staircase lit by a single red bulb and flanked by two burly guards. His heart fluttered.
> Why is an acting competition here? he wondered.
He swallowed and descended.
---
At the bottom, fifteen men in tailored suits circled a bloodstained table. One man sharpened a machete. Lucas paused, confusion fluttering in his chest.
> "Sorry I'm late," he announced cheerfully. "I'm here to audition—monologue number three: 'The Fall of the Tyrant.'"
Silence fell.
The bald man at the center raised his scarred head, eyes trembling. "You… you came."
Lucas flashed his ID. "Lucas Cain."
He strode into the ring of men and poured his soul into the words:
> "Power is not taken… it is assumed. It is not gifted… it is claimed. And today… I stand above you not as a man… but as the void that devours kings."
He finished with a slow-motion gesture. In his mind, he'd just nailed the audition. Around him, gang members gulped and knelt.
"Mister Nobody… the legendary specter of the Underblack Circle… it's you. You've returned."
Lucas tilted his head. "Wait, what?"
A henchman handed him a briefcase of cash. "Use this to rebuild your empire."
He stared at it in disbelief. This prize money is impressive.
He bowed. "Thank you."
---
Back in his dorm, Lucas counted bundles of cash, blinking in the dull lamplight.
> I think I just won that competition.
He didn't. Because it hadn't started yet...