Chapter 2: The Duke Who Calls Me by My Name
House Ravencourt did not wake gently.
It moved like a living organism—cold, disciplined, and merciless.
The moment I stepped out of my chambers, the corridor was already alive with quiet motion. Servants walked with measured steps, heads lowered, never once meeting my eyes. Knights in black-and-silver armor stood at attention, their presence sharp enough to cut through the air.
I could feel them.
Not emotionally.
Physically.
Heartbeats.
Breathing.
The flow of mana beneath steel and flesh.
My vision automatically parsed the world into layers—foreground, background, intention.
So this is Sixfold Perception…
It wasn't just sight. It was awareness. Every movement felt predictable, every action delayed by an invisible fraction of a second—as if the world itself moved slower than my thoughts.
Annoying.
I consciously suppressed it.
The flood receded.
My head cleared.
"Good morning, Young Master."
A maid bowed deeply in front of me. Her hands trembled despite her training.
I recognized her from the memories.
Lina.
One of the few who hadn't openly despised the original Aether.
"You don't need to bow that low," I said.
Her eyes widened.
"…Yes, Young Master."
She straightened, confusion flashing across her face before she hid it behind professionalism.
Change noticed.
Good.
"Father has summoned you," she continued. "The Duke awaits in the inner audience chamber."
Of course he does.
I nodded once and walked past her.
Each step echoed against the marble floor, the family crest repeating beneath my feet like a reminder.
House Ravencourt did not forgive weakness.
And the man waiting for me was weakness incarnate's executioner.
The inner audience chamber was massive, its ceiling supported by obsidian pillars carved with battle records of the family's ancestors. Tattered banners from conquered territories hung along the walls—not as trophies, but warnings.
At the far end of the hall sat a single throne-like chair.
No crown.
No excessive decoration.
Just authority.
Duke Alaric von Ravencourt did not rise when I entered.
He did not smile.
He did not frown.
He simply looked at me.
And in that instant, the pressure hit.
It wasn't mana.
It wasn't killing intent.
It was judgment.
The weight of a man who had executed traitors, crushed rebellions, and sent his own blood to the battlefield without hesitation.
My spine straightened instinctively.
Not fear.
Reflex.
"So," he said at last, voice deep and controlled. "You finally decided to stop pretending to be asleep."
The original Aether would have lowered his head.
Apologized.
I did neither.
"I woke up," I replied calmly. "That's all."
Silence stretched.
A faint crease appeared between the Duke's brows.
Interesting.
He hadn't expected that.
"You were declared mana-deficient for seventeen years," he continued. "And yet last night, the manor's barrier reacted."
Ah.
So he noticed.
"That wasn't me," I said.
A lie.
But a careful one.
His gaze sharpened. "Do you think I'm a fool?"
"No," I answered honestly. "I think you're cautious."
The air thickened.
Knights at the edges of the chamber stiffened, hands tightening on their weapons.
The Duke stared at me for a long moment.
Then—
"State your condition."
Straight to the point.
I exhaled slowly.
"Something awakened," I said. "I don't fully understand it yet."
True.
"Show me."
There it is.
A command.
I hesitated—just enough to make it believable—then raised my hand.
I did not release mana.
I did not summon power.
I simply allowed distance to exist.
The Duke flicked a finger.
A shard of compressed mana shot toward my chest.
It stopped.
Not dramatically.
Not visibly.
It simply… never arrived.
The mana dispersed inches from my skin, unraveling as if confused by reality itself.
Silence.
The Duke stood.
Slowly.
For the first time in years, his composure cracked.
"…What authority is that?"
I lowered my hand.
"I don't know what it's called."
Which, technically, wasn't a lie.
He approached me, stopping an arm's length away.
I felt him then.
His mana was vast. Heavy. Refined through decades of war.
And yet—
It could not reach me.
For the briefest moment, I saw something in his eyes.
Not fear.
Not anger.
Recognition.
"Aether," he said quietly.
It was the first time he had ever used my name without a title.
"You will attend the Imperial Academy."
That was earlier than in the novel.
Much earlier.
"I see," I replied.
"You will not hide this power," he continued. "But you will not flaunt it either. The Empire does not tolerate unknown variables."
A pause.
"…Neither do I."
I nodded.
"Understood."
He turned away, dismissing me.
As I left the chamber, a familiar blue screen flickered into existence.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Name: Aether von Ravencourt
Title: Duke's Heir | Anomaly Beyond Fate
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
[ Stats ]
Strength: 24 (+3)
Agility: 28 (+4)
Vitality: 35 (+7)
Charm: 38 (+3)
Luck: 999 (Locked)
[ Abilities ]
• Spatial Authority (Passive – Active Suppressed)
• Demonic Sovereign Core (Dormant)
• Astral Manifestation (Stage 0)
[ Skills ]
• Mana Control (Improved)
• Noble Authority (Passive)
• Intent Suppression
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
I dismissed it.
The game had started earlier than expected.
And somewhere beyond these walls, the real protagonist of the novel was still living his ignorant, peaceful life.
I smiled faintly.
Sorry.
This story doesn't belong to you anymore.