If he couldn't undo the past, he could at least try to salvage the present. Leaning back in the chair, Aric closed his eyes, letting his thoughts drift. His memory allowed him to recall every line of text, every number, every implication written in those documents.
Now, he needed to find a way to reverse the damage.
"What if…" he said while opening his eyes slowly. "What if I sold something back?"
Ivy arched an eyebrow, [Sell what? You don't exactly have a garage sale's worth of junk lying around.]
"No. Not junk. Something practical. Something revolutionary."
He stood abruptly, pacing the length of the office as ideas began to take shape.
With Creation Magic, I could manifest anything I imagine—but creating wealth directly would be too obvious, too risky and will fuck the economy. Instead, I need something more influential. Something valuable enough to generate revenue without raising suspicion.
What can I make...what do I remember hmmm...
Aric thought hard for awhile retracing his memories. How do I make perfumes here...No—I only remember the scent, not the formula. I can't replicate something I never understood.
What about beauty products? Ugh... I never watched any skincare tutorials—just reviews of skincare memes and that one guy screaming about sunscreen.
What if I made philosophy books? No, that doesn't even work. We're in fantasy 1800s. No one gives two shits about Plato.
Science and math books? Maybe. But it's not sustainable...and highschool stuff can only go so far.
He groaned, Come on, Aric. What did you spend your nights brainrotting to... War documentaries? Nuclear history? Deep dives into Cold War psyops? Cave diving? What I'm gonna make guides on how to survive in such situation? That's bullshit.
And then, he had his eureka moment, Wait... didn't I binge like fifty hours of video tutorials on how to fix fans, air conditioners, power systems and a bunch more? They went into detail for each component...
I mean, I was bored after the war.
"Electricity." he declared while snapping his fingers, "I'll bring electricity here!"
Ivy blinked, her smirk fading into genuine curiosity.
[Electricity? As in… light bulbs and wires? That's your big plan?]
"Yes. Think about it. Refrigeration for food preservation. Electric lighting instead of oil lamps. Heated floors during winter. These are luxuries no one in this world has even dreamed of yet. And they're simple practical solutions that anyone with resources would kill to own."
[You're talking about reinventing an entire system of technology.] Ivy pointed out skeptically.
[Do you really think nobles will understand how to use it or care enough to pay for it?]
"They will when they see the results." Aric insisted.
"And I can make it easy for them. Blueprints, instructions, everything they need to integrate these innovations into their lives seamlessly. Hell, I'll even create prototypes to prove it works. I have consumed so much documentary, random videos and my unhealthy search on internet forums, I have a backlog of that."
Determined, Aric reached into the raw potential of Creation Magic, imagining the tools he'd need first. In moments, a pen appeared in his hand—a sleek black fountain pen with gold accents. Next came a notebook, its pages crisp and blank, waiting to be filled.
Ivy tilted her head, [Nice touch. But why stop there? You could sell those too—patent them to the highest bidder. Exclusive rights to 'Professor Vayne's' inventions.]
Aric chuckled bitterly, running a finger along the spine of the notebook.
"Maybe. But first, I need to focus on the bigger picture."
He sat down at the desk and began sketching furiously. Diagrams took shape on the page—wiring schematics for refrigerators, circuits for electric lights, mechanisms for heated flooring systems. Each blueprint was detailed, elegant, and functional. He remembered everything thanks to his hyperthymesia.
By the time he finished, the notebook was brimming with designs that could change the face of this world forever.
"This is it! This is how I'll fix things."
Armed with the blueprints, Aric set out to find Seraphina. The maids and butlers flinched as he passed, avoiding eye contact as though afraid his mere presence might summon disaster. It didn't take long to locate her—in her private office, where the shattered windows had been repaired but the furniture remained battered and broken.
She sat at her desk, staring blankly at a stack of papers before her. When she heard the door creak open, she looked up sharply,
"What do you want now?"
Aric hesitated, clutching the notebook tightly.
If I can show her these blueprints, maybe she'll realize I'm not Vayne.
Maybe she'll see that I'm trying to help. He thought naively.
"I thought you should see this." he said finally, stepping forward.
Instead of placing the entire notebook on her desk, he carefully extracted one of the blueprints—a schematic for an electric lighting system and laid it gently in front of her. His hands made sure the blueprint was smooth as he smoothed out the edges, ensuring she could see every detail clearly.
Seraphina glanced at the blueprint briefly. Then, slowly, her gaze hardened.
"Stealing from the dwarves now? Have you no shame, Vayne!? Do you think I'll believe you came up with these yourself? They're too advanced—too clever. This isn't your work; it's theirs."
Aric was stunned by the accusation. "No, I—"
"Don't lie to me!" she interrupted, slamming her fist onto the desk.
"You've already burned bridges with everyone else. Why not betray the dwarves while you're at it? Their craftsmanship is legendary, but even they wouldn't trust you after what you've done."
Her words hit him like a physical blow. Betrayal. Theft. Lies. To her, he was still Vayne—a man who destroyed everything he touched.
No matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, she would never see him differently.
"I'm not stealing." he said quietly, "I created these myself. Everything here, every design is mine."
Seraphina scoffed, grabbing the blueprint and hurling it back at him. It fluttered through the air like a wounded bird before landing at his feet.
She rose from her seat, leaning over the desk with fiery intensity.
"Then take it back to the dwarves!" she hissed, jabbing a finger toward the discarded blueprint.
"Give them whatever scraps of credit you stole from them. Stop making my life harder than it already is!"
"What part of fucking off from my life do you not understand? Every time you show up, every time you try to 'fix' something, you only make it worse! You ruined House Arkwright! You ruined me! And now you waltz in here acting like some fucking saviour?"
She stepped around the desk, closing the distance between them until she was inches away.
"You're poison, Vayne. Poison wrapped in lies and excuses. So leave. Leave this house. Leave this estate. Leave us. Rot for all I care."
She jabbed a finger into his chest, "Because if I ever see you again doing shit like this, I swear to every god there is that I will personally fuck you inside out."
Aric staggered backward, her words hitting him like a storm surge. For a moment, he stood frozen, fighting back tears that threatened to spill over.
Inside, something cracked—a fragile piece of hope crumbling under the weight of her rejection.
As she turned her back on him, Aric left the room. He walked aimlessly through the halls, retracing his steps until he found himself back in the observatory wing.
I failed. he thought bitterly, dragging a hand down his face.
Not just her, but everyone. Vayne ruined this place and now I'm stuck cleaning up his fucking mess. How am I supposed to fix something so broken? This fucking place and body is broken!
Tears blurred his vision. He pressed his forehead against the cool surface of a marble column, letting the silence envelop him. Small things hurt the most—the accusations, the mistrust, the knowledge that no matter what he did, it wouldn't be enough.
I'll finish what Vayne started. he vowed silently.
I'll pay off the debts. Rebuild the estate. Make House Arkwright strong again. But I won't bother her anymore. Some wounds run too deep to heal.
Ivy watched him silently, her amber eyes softening with empathy. Something about Aric struck a chord within her, she was sad to him like this.
[Aric. You're stronger than you think. Don't give up.]