The duke's voice still echoed in my ears long after I left his office.Every step down that long hallway felt heavy.
He shouted for nearly an hour — about family pride, about disgrace, about how I could never be like my perfect brother.I didn't argue. I didn't bow. I just stood there and let him spit his anger until he was tired.
Now the mansion was quiet, too quiet.The servants avoided my eyes. Even the maids bowed halfway, afraid I might snap.Good. Fear was still better than pity.
I went to my room and locked the door.The silence was strange — no noise, no lights, no crowd. Just the sound of my own breathing.
I sat on the edge of the bed and tried to remember everything that happened in the academy — how this body had fallen so low.
The memories came slow, piece by piece, like bruises returning after a fight.
I remembered the training grounds.The duel.The hero's blade flashing past my guard.The sound of my ribs cracking, my body hitting the dirt.
That was the moment this body — Kael Valtor, the Duke's son — had lost everything.
He had body-strengthening magic, something rare and powerful.But he never learned how to use it. He relied on arrogance, on his noble name.When that commoner beat him, he didn't just lose a fight — he lost his place in the world.
And now, I was inside this same body.A fighter from another world, trapped in a spoiled noble's broken reputation.
But this body…It was different. Stronger than mine used to be.Every muscle felt heavy with potential — like a beast that had been chained too long.
"If I can learn to control this," I muttered, clenching my fists, "I won't just be strong… I'll be unstoppable."
The pain from the duel, the humiliation, the suspension — all of it burned like old scars.But pain never scared me. Pain was a reminder that I was still alive.
They called me a villain.They wanted a story where the hero wins and the villain crawls.
Fine.Let them write it that way for now.
I'll fix this body.I'll clear my name.And then—I'll take back everything they stole, piece by piece, until they remember who the real monster in this story is.
A grin crept across my face.Not the polite kind nobles wear.The real one — sharp, cold, and ready