The smooth click of polished shoes against marble echoed softly as Lucien Caelum Velebrandt followed his maid through the halls of the mansion that now belonged to him.
The Velebrandt Estate was not just a home—it was a kingdom in miniature.
Towering archways carved from dark obsidian stone rose above him, laced with filigree gold trim that caught the morning sun from high windows, scattering it like divine light across the gleaming white floor. Massive crystal chandeliers—each one the size of a carriage—hung from vaulted ceilings etched with murals of forgotten wars, celestial beasts, and the proud ancestors of House Velebrandt. Red carpets embroidered with black roses and silver thorns guided the way down the endless corridors like veins through a living monument.
Lucien's small hands swung as he walked, his childlike body failing to match the regal dignity the hall demanded. He glanced left and right with growing awe—and maybe just a bit of a smirk.
> "Bro, I feel like I'm walking through a museum made by gods... Where do they even get chandeliers that sparkle like mana crystals?"
He resisted the urge to touch the towering antique vases lining the walls, taller than him and probably older than most empires.
Ahead of him walked Marie, the short-haired brown-eyed maid from earlier. She moved with elegance and awareness, her posture straight, steps light, yet her head slightly bowed in respect. Her black-and-white uniform fit perfectly with the estate's high-class theme—modest, but tailored, with the subtle silver-rose pin on her chest marking her as a senior attendant.
As they moved deeper into the heart of the mansion, they passed other maids, some dusting towering statues with long-feathered poles, others kneeling as they scrubbed the marble tiles with enchanted cloths that shimmered faintly. Each servant who saw Lucien paused their work to bow deeply.
> "Good morning, Young Master."
Lucien grinned and nodded, but inside, he whispered to himself:
> "Okay... this is next level. I went from microwave ramen to... continental brunch with magical candles."
Finally, they reached a pair of massive double doors, each carved from blackwood and engraved with the sigil of House Velebrandt: a silver lion coiled with abyssal thorns, roaring toward the western sun.
Two guards clad in enchanted plate armor stood tall beside the doors, their visors polished like mirrors, halberds crossed in ceremonial stance.
As the young heir approached, the guards stomped their halberds into the floor in unison. One of them shouted with a booming voice:
> "Announcing the arrival of Young Master Lucien Caelum Velebrandt—Heir of the West, Blood of the Grand Duke!"
Lucien blinked.
> "Damn... even the guards got vocal reverb?"
A deep, commanding voice responded from within the room—smooth, authoritative, and cold like steel drawn beneath moonlight.
> "Enter."
The guards pulled the doors open with practiced ease, and Lucien stepped inside the Grand Dining Hall of House Velebrandt.
The scent hit him first—freshly baked breads, spiced meats, sugared fruits, and something that might've been enchanted coffee. The table stretched long enough to seat fifty, its surface a polished obsidian slab veined with crimson, lined with high-backed chairs trimmed in gold and velvet. Overhead, a massive skylight spilled dawn's light into the chamber, setting every silver utensil and goblet aglow.
And at the head of the table—they sat.
Grand Duke Aldric Thorne Velebrandt.
A mountain of a man, broad-shouldered, white-haired with streaks of iron-gray. A neatly trimmed beard framed a strong, battle-hardened jaw. His crimson cloak, lined in abyssal fur, flowed over obsidian armor that hummed faintly with suppressed mana. His eyes—deep silver, colder than a winter storm—glanced at Lucien with unreadable weight.
Beside him, graceful yet radiant, sat Archduchess Seraphina Lysandra Velebrandt.
Her presence was like a warm fire on a snowed-in evening—gentle but proud. She had flowing golden hair, pinned with silver leaves, and wore a deep blue dress embroidered with stars. Her eyes—a calm, piercing gray—carried the refined gaze of imperial blood. A thin silver circlet crowned her brow.
Lucien stared. His inner monologue barely contained itself.
> "Yup. Of course they're stupidly hot and terrifying. My mom looks like an empress, and my dad looks like he eats demons for breakfast."
The Grand Duke leaned forward slightly. His voice, calm but firm, echoed through the hall.
> "Lucien. Come. Sit."
Lucien nodded instinctively. For a moment, he forgot this was his fantasy dream life.
He simply obeyed—like any six-year-old in the presence of overwhelming authority.
Marie bowed politely and moved to the side, disappearing into the background with the grace of a seasoned servant. Lucien approached the child-sized seat that had been prepared for him, placed perfectly to the right of the Grand Duke.
As he climbed onto the seat and sat, his small hands brushing the pristine tablecloth, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the polished plate.
> Silver hair... red and gray eyes...
This world. This family. This legacy.
> "...No pressure."
---
The clinking of silver against porcelain echoed gently as Lucien Caelum Velebrandt tried his best to navigate the luxurious array of utensils laid before him.
Forks. Spoons. Knives. Even a tiny, dainty one that looked like it was meant for slaying miniature dragons.
> "Bro... why are there so many spoons? Are we fighting soup monsters at this table?"
He subtly glanced to his right and mirrored the way his mother delicately lifted her silverware—graceful, fluid, effortless.
Seated beside Grand Duke Aldric, the Archduchess Seraphina Lysandra Velebrandt turned her head slightly toward her son. Her voice, warm yet poised with noble composure, floated across the table.
> "Have you been well these past few days, Lucien?"
Lucien blinked, pausing just as he was about to poke his food with the wrong fork. He quickly straightened up and nodded with a small smile.
> "Yes, Mother. Everything has been... amazing."
She gave him a soft smile in return, one that felt like warm sunlight peeking through storm clouds.
Then, the deeper voice of the Grand Duke filled the hall once more—firm, commanding, laced with the tension of duty.
> "I will not be here for the coming years."
Lucien looked up quickly. His fork paused mid-air.
> "The Abyssians have begun pushing harder at the Western Front. The resurrection of the Abyssian King has caused unrest beyond the borders. My presence is required at the stronghold."
A silent weight fell on the room like snow settling on rooftops.
Seraphina nodded slowly, her calm gray eyes not wavering.
> "I understand," she said quietly. "Be careful, Aldric."
The Grand Duke gave a small grunt that could be interpreted as both assurance and farewell.
He then turned to Lucien, eyes as sharp as steel.
> "While I am gone, I expect you to begin training in the Way of the Western Sword. You are the heir of House Velebrandt. You will be trained by Knight General Rex himself."
Lucien swallowed a bite of perfectly roasted meat and sat straighter, nodding with a trace of nervous pride.
> "Yes, Father."
> "Good." Aldric leaned back slightly, his heavy armor groaning faintly. "And you will also act as a proper brother to your younger sibling. While I am away, you will protect him, guide him, and make me proud."
Lucien blinked.
> "Yes, Father."
But inside, his mind was spinning like a broken compass.
> "Wait. Younger brother? Oh right... in the game lore, the heir sacrificed his whole family in the previous timeline... no wonder the heroes want me dead."
> "If I remember correctly, the younger brother was one year old when the story started… which would make me five years older right now. So… that means he just turned one?"
> "Which also means... my younger sister hasn't even been born yet. Oh boy."
Lucien kept his face composed, spooning a small cut of meat into his mouth, but his inner voice was far less calm.
> "So... to recap: My dad's going to war with demon-wannabes. My baby brother is future hero classmate #16. And I, a former raid boss from the last timeline, am stuck playing 'happy family' with a ticking time bomb strapped to my bloodline."
He glanced up at his father again. The Grand Duke's stern eyes met his with unwavering certainty.
> "...And I'm expected to master swordsmanship from the toughest general alive while pretending I didn't get isekai'd into a six-year-old aristocrat with demon-assisted war crimes in his past life."
Lucien offered a slightly brighter smile.
> "I won't let you down, Father."
Grand Duke Aldric nodded once.
> "See that you don't."
Marie stood silently in the background, watching her young master closely. Seraphina reached for her goblet and took a small sip, her gaze flicking toward Lucien in thought—as if measuring something deeper than his manners.
The luxurious hall once again settled into noble silence, broken only by the clinking of utensils and the distant hum of wind against enchanted glass.
Lucien chewed, swallowed, and breathed slowly.
> "Alright... time to play this role better than the villain ever did."