The first thing I noticed was the silence.
Not the peaceful kind—no birds, no distant hum of traffic—but a heavy, velvet stillness, like the world itself was holding its breath. My thoughts surfaced slowly, tangled and unfamiliar, as though they didn't quite belong to me.
I had died.
I remembered that clearly.
The screech of tires.
The blinding headlights.
The sudden, terrible calm that followed.
So why did my chest rise and fall now?
A sharp cry tore from my throat before I could stop it—high, thin, helpless.
A baby's cry.
Panic flooded me, but my body refused to obey. My arms were small. Too small. My fingers curled into fists no bigger than rosebuds. Warm blankets wrapped around me, and a faint scent of incense and milk filled the air.
"She's awake!"
A woman's voice—soft, trembling with emotion.
Another voice followed, deeper, controlled, yet unmistakably relieved. "Bring her here. Slowly."
I was lifted into strong arms. My vision blurred, colors bleeding together, but I could make out faces leaning over me—beautiful faces, refined and noble, like something torn from a portrait in a palace hallway.
This wasn't a hospital.
The room was vast. Gold-trimmed pillars. Silken curtains. A chandelier made of crystal that caught the light like frozen stars.
Where… am I?
Understanding struck like lightning.
Reincarnation.
I had read countless novels about it—dying tragically only to awaken in another world, another body. I had laughed at the impossibility of it all.
And yet here I was.
The woman holding me had silver-threaded black hair and eyes the color of spring jade. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she pressed her forehead gently to mine.
"My daughter," she whispered. "My precious miracle."
Daughter.
My heart skipped. If this was real—if I had truly been reborn—then this woman was my mother.
And judging by the room, the servants kneeling at a distance, and the man standing tall beside her in embroidered robes that radiated authority…
This family was powerful.
"Congratulations, my lord, my lady," an elderly man said, bowing deeply. His robes bore an emblem I didn't recognize—two crossed stars over a crown. "The child has opened her eyes already. Her spiritual presence is… extraordinary."
Spiritual presence?
I focused, instinctively turning inward.
Something answered.
A warmth bloomed in my chest, spreading through my limbs like liquid light. Knowledge—not memories, but awareness—poured in. This world ran on energy. Mana. Essence. Power shaped by bloodlines and talent.
And I could feel it.
Not faintly.
Abundantly.
The man's sharp eyes widened. "Impossible… At barely a day old—"
"She is a blessing from the heavens," my mother said fiercely, clutching me closer. "Nothing else matters."
The man beside her—my father—finally spoke. His voice was calm, but it carried the weight of command.
"She will be named Aurelia Valemont."
The room stilled.
Valemont.
Even with my limited understanding, the name resonated. The servants bowed lower. Some looked awed. Others looked afraid.
"The Valemont family's first daughter in three generations," my father continued. "And she will lack for nothing. Summon the best tutors, healers, and seers. Her future will be forged in excellence."
I wanted to laugh.
In my previous life, I had been ordinary. Smart, yes—but overworked, underpaid, and invisible to the world. Dreams crushed by reality. Genius wasted on survival.
But now?
I was the daughter of the richest—and clearly most influential—family in this world.
And I could feel it, deep in my soul.
This body was different.
My mind was clear. Sharp. Already organizing thoughts, absorbing details, connecting patterns far beyond what a newborn should be capable of.
If this world wanted to give me a second chance…
I would take it.
I would become a genius—not just in name, but in truth.
And this time, with wealth, power, and a loving family at my back, I would rise so high that even the heavens would have no choice but to remember my name.
Aurelia Valemont.
This was only the beginning.
Part One: The Awakening
The first thing I noticed was the silence.
Not the peaceful kind—no birds, no distant hum of traffic—but a heavy, velvet stillness, like the world itself was holding its breath. My thoughts surfaced slowly, tangled and unfamiliar, as though they didn't quite belong to me.
I had died.
I remembered that clearly.
The screech of tires.
The blinding headlights.
The sudden, terrible calm that followed.
So why did my chest rise and fall now?
A sharp cry tore from my throat before I could stop it—high, thin, helpless.
A baby's cry.
Panic flooded me, but my body refused to obey. My arms were small. Too small. My fingers curled into fists no bigger than rosebuds. Warm blankets wrapped around me, and a faint scent of incense and milk filled the air.
"She's awake!"
A woman's voice—soft, trembling with emotion.
Another voice followed, deeper, controlled, yet unmistakably relieved. "Bring her here. Slowly."
I was lifted into strong arms. My vision blurred, colors bleeding together, but I could make out faces leaning over me—beautiful faces, refined and noble, like something torn from a portrait in a palace hallway.
This wasn't a hospital.
The room was vast. Gold-trimmed pillars. Silken curtains. A chandelier made of crystal that caught the light like frozen stars.
Where… am I?
Understanding struck like lightning.
Reincarnation.
I had read countless novels about it—dying tragically only to awaken in another world, another body. I had laughed at the impossibility of it all.
And yet here I was.
The woman holding me had silver-threaded black hair and eyes the color of spring jade. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she pressed her forehead gently to mine.
"My daughter," she whispered. "My precious miracle."
Daughter.
My heart skipped. If this was real—if I had truly been reborn—then this woman was my mother.
And judging by the room, the servants kneeling at a distance, and the man standing tall beside her in embroidered robes that radiated authority…
This family was powerful.
"Congratulations, my lord, my lady," an elderly man said, bowing deeply. His robes bore an emblem I didn't recognize—two crossed stars over a crown. "The child has opened her eyes already. Her spiritual presence is… extraordinary."
Spiritual presence?
I focused, instinctively turning inward.
Something answered.
A warmth bloomed in my chest, spreading through my limbs like liquid light. Knowledge—not memories, but awareness—poured in. This world ran on energy. Mana. Essence. Power shaped by bloodlines and talent.
And I could feel it.
Not faintly.
Abundantly.
The man's sharp eyes widened. "Impossible… At barely a day old—"
"She is a blessing from the heavens," my mother said fiercely, clutching me closer. "Nothing else matters."
The man beside her—my father—finally spoke. His voice was calm, but it carried the weight of command.
"She will be named Aurelia Valemont."
The room stilled.
Valemont.
Even with my limited understanding, the name resonated. The servants bowed lower. Some looked awed. Others looked afraid.
"The Valemont family's first daughter in three generations," my father continued. "And she will lack for nothing. Summon the best tutors, healers, and seers. Her future will be forged in excellence."
I wanted to laugh.
In my previous life, I had been ordinary. Smart, yes—but overworked, underpaid, and invisible to the world. Dreams crushed by reality. Genius wasted on survival.
But now?
I was the daughter of the richest—and clearly most influential—family in this world.
And I could feel it, deep in my soul.
This body was different.
My mind was clear. Sharp. Already organizing thoughts, absorbing details, connecting patterns far beyond what a newborn should be capable of.
If this world wanted to give me a second chance…
I would take it.
I would become a genius—not just in name, but in truth.
And this time, with wealth, power, and a loving family at my back, I would rise so high that even the heavens would have no choice but to remember my name.
Aurelia Valemont.