Note : do you even read these notes ?
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Evening, Valdric Palace
The evening sky above Valdric Palace was a tapestry of fading gold and purple, stitched together by the last light of the dying sun. Even after centuries, the palace still stood proud — a monument of marble and memory. Time had worn its stones smooth, but not its dignity.
Street lamps lit one by one along the cobbled paths of the royal garden. Their amber glow mingled with the soft luminescence of fireflies that drifted lazily between hedges. The air smelled faintly of rain and old stone.
The fountains, though long overtaken by moss, still trickled weakly — not vibrant, but persistent. Like old soldiers who refused to fall.
On the palace's western wing, one window glowed with life. The rest were dark, silent, resting.
That single light belonged to Reinhart von Valdric room — the main character of this novel
Inside, the luxury was suffocating. Velvet curtains, polished marble floors, a bed big enough for three, and walls etched with gold leaf — opulence designed to impress visitors who no longer came. The air was warm, perfumed faintly with lavender.
And in the center of it all, Reinhart lay motionless on the bed, arms spread wide, staring blankly at the ceiling.
If a maid walked in, she might have mistaken him for a corpse.
He certainly felt like one.
Every muscle in his body screamed, his shoulders throbbed, and his palms still bore faint blisters from yesterday's sword drills. Even breathing hurt.
He exhaled slowly. "If I die now, I wonder if Seraphine would still drag my body out for warm-ups."
His voice came out hoarse, half a whisper. He didn't laugh — it wasn't funny.
He turned his head slightly. There was a old clock there with 7 pm as it's time
Instead of wallowing in pain, he began to think — carefully, methodically. He had learned that complaining achieved nothing. Planning, however, might just save his life.
He had survived these past days under Seraphine's regime. Barely.
Now, the another day loomed, and every cell in his body screamed rebellion.
He needed an escape.
...
He began listing ideas like a desperate strategist trapped in enemy territory.
Option one: Fake an illness.
No good. Seraphine had once made him run laps while his face was pale . She'd probably call a fever "resistance training."
Option two: Fake an injury.
Equally bad. Knowing her, she'd lecture him on "training through adversity" while handing him a crutch and doubling the laps.
Option three: Poison.
Tempting, but impractical. He had neither ingredients nor courage to test his brewing skills on someone who could probably sense poison by smell alone.
He sighed. "There goes my career as a genius assassin."
He rolled over, staring at the canopy above. The carved crest of House Valdric — a mighty two headed eagle — stared back down at him.
"Maybe I should just… run away," he muttered.
But the thought of surviving outside with zero money, connections, or hidden dangers quickly killed that fantasy.
Finally, after half an hour of silent scheming, an idea began to take shape.
Simple. Logical. Harmless.
He would request to visit the city — to "purchase supplies" for the upcoming academy enrollment.
Even Seraphine couldn't deny the necessity of preparation.
And if the Duke himself permitted it, she couldn't interfere.
That was the key — go above her authority.
But to do that, he'd have to talk to Duke Leon von Valdric, his father.
Reinhart grimaced. "Great , I knew I was a genius "
...
When the clock chimed for dinner, Reinhart forced himself up. His legs felt like logs. Even his hair hurt.
His maid, Catherine, entered precisely on time — her movements quiet but appeared hesitant, her violet hair tied neatly behind her back. She looked at him like a fangirl who finally met her idol
"You're late, my lord," she said softly.
"Am I?" Reinhart muttered. "I was busy trying to remember how to move."
Catherine's lips curved faintly — "Shall I escort you to the dining hall?"
"If I refuse, will you carry me?"
She blinked once. " if you want "
"…Let's just walk."
They proceeded through the endless marble corridors of the western wing. The palace was too large for its current occupants. Once, it had hosted grand feasts, political councils, and sword tournaments. Now, it was an echo chamber of its own history.
Portraits of past Valdrics lined the hall — proud faces painted in oil and arrogance. Warriors, scholars, rulers. Reinhart felt their gazes following him as he walked.
"You all had it easy," he muttered under his breath. "None of you got to know my pain , you just lived your lives in riches "
He then finally reached the dining hall
The dining hall was breathtaking — a cathedral of excess. A crystal chandelier bathed the room in soft gold. A long mahogany table stretched across the hall, set with silver plates and glassware that gleamed like mirrors.
At the far end sat Duke Leon von Valdric, tall and composed, his blonde hair tied neatly, his uniform impeccable even at home. His mere presence commanded silence.
He didn't look up when Reinhart entered, though Reinhart noticed the Duke's hand pause ever so slightly on his glass of wine — a small acknowledgment.
Catherine bowed and quietly retreated.
Reinhart approached, bowed slightly, and sat opposite his father.
The silence between them was heavy — not hostile, just… hollow.
It was always like this ever since reinhart saw since his transmigration .
Formal meals. Minimal words. Perfect manners.
A relationship that functioned like clockwork — mechanical, distant, efficient.
Dinner proceeded quietly. The sound of utensils echoed faintly in the vast hall.
Halfway through, the Duke finally spoke.
"is your training going good ? "
"Yes, Father," Reinhart replied evenly. "Instructor Seraphine is… thoroughly instructing me "
The Duke hummed lightly, neither approving nor disapproving. "Good. You'll need it. The academy does not tolerate weakness."
I'm pretty sure they also don't tolerate corpses, Reinhart thought but wisely kept silent.
When dessert arrived — a delicate custard dusted with sugar — Reinhart finally spoke his rehearsed line.
"Father, I wish to visit the city tomorrow."
The Duke looked up, his sharp golden eyes assessing him. "You've never asked to leave the palace grounds before. Why now? Is it because of training?"
Reinhart shook his head calmly. "I simply wish to purchase supplies for the academy. I want to be prepared."
It was a perfect lie — logical, respectful, and devoid of emotion.
The Duke studied him in silence. His expression didn't change, but the air in the room seemed to tighten. Then, finally, he nodded once.
"Very well. You may go. But only for tomorrow."
Reinhart exhaled quietly in relief.
Then the Duke added, as if casually, "Your sister returns tomorrow as well."
Reinhart froze.
throughout this entire time since his tranmigration, it was the first time he heard that he has a sister
The spoon in his hand clinked softly against the plate.
No one had mentioned a sister — not the servants, not Catherine, not Seraphine. In the past week, he had learned everything from mana theory to how to survive a sadist's training, but not once had mentioned in any way that he had a sister
He looked up carefully. "Sister?"
The Duke's tone was calm. "Yes. she will be returning from your grandparents home Tommorow "
Reinhart forced a polite nod. "alright "
Inside, his mind was racing.
If there's a sister… could there be more? he wondered. Siblings? Relatives? A family network I don't even know exists? A mother i never met ?
The Duke, apparently satisfied, returned to his meal without further conversation.
Reinhart ate in silence, though his thoughts were louder than thunder.
He'd come to dinner planning to manipulate a day off.
Instead, he had walked straight into a mystery.
...
Later, Reinhart returned to his room, the corridors quiet except for the soft echo of his steps. The palace felt emptier at night — like a slumbering beast.
He entered his room and sat by the window, staring at the garden below. The moonlight painted the fountains silver.
Somewhere out there, in the darkness beyond the palace walls, was the city he was about to explore. A world full of people, secrets, and answers.
But tonight, his thoughts lingered elsewhere — on the sister he never knew existed.
He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. " a sister" he murmured. The name felt foreign on his tongue.
He sighed. "Great. Another problem"
The thought of family should have been comforting. Instead, it was unsettling.
The Duke was distant, Seraphine was terrifying, and now there was a mysterious sister whose existence had never been mentioned.
He stared at the mirror in his room
His reflection in the mirror looked back — tired eyes, tousled hair, faint shadows of exhaustion beneath them.
He had survived torture-level training, talked with a noble patriarch without losing composure, and earned a single day of freedom.
Yet somehow, it felt like tomorrow might be more dangerous than all of that combined.
He lay back on his bed, staring once again at the ceiling.
Tomorrow, I rest.
Tomorrow, I explore.
For the first time in days, Reinhart drifted into sleep without dread.
...
The Morning came quick
When dawn came, the world was quiet.
No knocking.
No Seraphine's voice cutting through dreams like a knife.
No orders.
Just peace.
Reinhart opened his eyes slowly. The sunlight through the window was soft and golden.
He waited.
One minute. Two. Five.
Still no sign of her.
He sat up, blinking in disbelief. "No way…"
Then, a slow, creeping smile spread across his face.
He stood, stretching lazily, every movement accompanied by small groans of satisfaction. His joints popped like old hinges.
"Success," he said softly.
For the first time in all these days, Reinhart von Valdric was free.
Today, he would walk among the people, gather information, breathe air untainted by training dust, and maybe — just maybe — find out who his sister really was.
Outside, the palace bells tolled softly in the distance.
A new day had begun.
And somewhere deep in his gut, Reinhart felt that the true adventure of his new life was just starting.