Through the haze of sleep, Victor heard voices as his consciousness drifted like being submerged in water with nothing to hold onto. The voices grew clearer and closer until he finally opened his eyes to a ceiling that was unfamiliar—a canopy over a bed.
Victor turned his head leftward and saw a young maid sitting on a chair by the wall, dressed in old-fashioned servant attire. Her appearance was hard to judge, but she could be called cute: fair skin, delicate features, and...
He tried to speak but only managed hoarse gasps.
The girl sprang up from her seat, rushed towards him, and began sobbing incoherently.
"Is this some kind of cosplay?" he thought privately.
In an instant, a flood of information overwhelmed him. It felt like watching fast-forwarded videos accompanied by uncontrollable emotions. He simultaneously wanted to cry, laugh, feel joy or anger.
Eventually, it all settled into order.
It dawned on him what had happened: This wasn't Earth anymore. This new world was named Limeya, filled with magic, magical creatures, and entire wizard civilizations.
His current location was the residence of Count Alexander Shermannin, one of six counts in the kingdom of Lantaris. And here he found himself inhabiting the body of its firstborn son, Viktor Shermannin—the count's disgraceful offspring.
This world didn't just have aristocracy; there was also magic. But for Viktor, born without any magical ability, life would be challenging in a realm where even commoners possessed at least weak magic.
At age six, after failing a test measuring his magical potential, his father banished him to a country estate, effectively forgetting about him. Since then, servants cared for him, including a little maid named Lulu who had been with him since childhood.
Looking at crying Lulu, Viktor realized something important.
— Young master, you've finally woken up, — she said between tears streaming down her large green eyes.
"She thinks I'm her lord?" he wondered internally. "I might as well play along. If I tell them I'm from another world, they may burn me at the stake."
On Earth, he'd been nobody. After finishing vocational school, he couldn't afford college tuition. His mother died of COVID because he lacked money to transfer her to a better hospital. She suffered in a decrepit facility lacking essential equipment.
Here, though not a great magician, he was still a count's son. At least he wouldn't starve, and he had servants. "I could live out my days comfortably," he mused with a smile.
— Lulu, what's going on? — he asked, taking a sip of water offered by the maid.
— Young master, you lost consciousness a month ago. No one knows why. — The maid started weeping again.
Victor reached out and stroked her head, causing her to cry harder. Eventually calming herself, she ran off, returning fifteen minutes later with a man. About fifty years old, with gray hair and sharp facial features, he stood rigidly tall, clad in a black tailcoat.
Instantly, Viktor recognized him as Jin, the family butler.
The elderly gentleman approached the bedside and bowed slightly toward Viktor.
— My lord, it's wonderful to see you're awake, — Jin said, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.
In Viktor's mind, this elder always treated the previous owner kindly, always protecting him.
— Thank you, Jin. I'm feeling much better now, — Viktor replied calmly. — Did anything happen while I was unconscious?
— My lord, nothing occurred, — answered the old man.
Lying in bed, Viktor gradually came back to reality from this transmigration experience.
— Prepare food for me. I'm very hungry, — he ordered after brief consideration.
Lulu immediately dashed out under the critical gaze of the butler.
— This girl will never learn proper manners, sir, — muttered Jin, shaking his head.
— No big deal. There's no need to show etiquette here, — responded Viktor.
Half an hour later, Lulu returned pushing a cart laden with dishes covered by metal lids. They helped Viktor sit upright in bed, placed a small table across his lap, and arranged plates before him. Such service would be rare even in top-tier hotels on Earth. Holding cutlery, Viktor began cutting steak beneath the watchful eyes of both Lulu and Jin.
Although eating meat right after coming out of coma seemed absurd, Viktor couldn't resist trying it, especially given how rarely he'd eaten such quality meals on Earth.
Unfortunately, due to weakness, he struggled holding even a fork properly.
Relaxing afterward, he requested the meal be cleared away and decided to rest further.
When he awoke again, night had fallen outside, and a different maid sat on the chair nearby, clearly another servant based on her dress.
Unwilling to disturb her, Viktor reflected on his situation instead.
"In this world, I'm a count's son. If their nobility mirrors Earth's hierarchy, there's unlikely they'll disown me. Perhaps I'll remain hidden, but their status won't allow treating me like ordinary folk. Aristocrats value blood—it proves their superiority above commoners."
Bloodline, education, etiquette—all existed merely to prevent commoners from realizing they were fundamentally equal.
"I can live here worry-free, finding things to do when needed. These maids are quite attractive, so I've already secured entertainment if necessary."
He attempted moving his hands but found it difficult; the body's owner hadn't been physically fit prior to the coma, and post-coma made matters worse.
Victor replayed memories received from the previous owner, striving to mimic speech patterns, movements, and habits.
After hours of practice, exhaustion set in once more, and he fell asleep.
Upon waking, he noticed Lulu standing beside his bed, gazing intently at him as he slept.
— What are you doing, Lulu? — asked Viktor groggily upon opening his eyes.
— I listened to your breathing, worried you'd fall unconscious again," she explained cheerfully.
— Don't worry; it's unlikely to happen again, — murmured Viktor.
Immediately fetching food from the cart, she rearranged everything before him. This time, he ate normally and even rose from bed with help from Lulu, walking briefly around the room.
Over two weeks passed monotonously: eat, sleep, exercise, repeat daily.
One day, the butler knocked on his door, delivering a letter summoning him to his father's ancestral home within seven days.
Viktor puzzled over why, after thirteen years of exile, he was suddenly required back, suspecting it boded ill.
Informing the butler of his impending journey, preparations commenced swiftly. Given three days' travel ahead plus one additional day for rest before meeting his father, provisions must last four full days. Rules dictated you couldn't arrive directly from travel unless urgent business necessitated otherwise.
Dressed early morning in ostentatious traveling clothes—far too elaborate despite bearing the label—he boarded a carriage. To his view, everything looked excessive: embroidered clothing festooned with ribbons and frills, shiny leather shoes with high heels, breeches resembling shorts tucked into knee-high socks, and a gold-threaded frock coat topped by a triangular-brimmed hat.
Clothed thus, he felt ridiculous, akin to dressing for a circus performance. Even the butler appeared far less gaudy.
Jin wore long straight pants, black shoes, and a tuxedo with bowtie.
Seething inwardly, Viktor took his place inside the carriage guarded by six soldiers and one knight, setting off toward the capital city.
During travel, they stopped frequently in small towns where letters arrived regularly inviting him to banquets or tea parties from local nobles—some visiting personally.
Naturally, none showed personal interest; curiosity stemmed solely from his father's stature, seeking connections with higher-ranking nobility.
Rules here were strict: should someone like Count Shermannin invite you to a banquet, conversation remained impossible unless initiated by him, regardless of proximity.
Lower nobility included viscounts downward, whereas upper nobility encompassed counts, marquesses, dukes, and royalty itself.
Complexities arose: although a duchess ranked above a marquis, her eldest son fell below the same rank. Similarly, a marquis outranked a count, yet his own heir ranked lower than a count.
Other countries followed differing rules: sons inherited titles without forming separate noble houses.
Such confusion often perplexed even aristocrats themselves, let alone commoners ignorant of these intricacies.
Royalty formed the highest level, yet held no special qualities beyond their elevated status.
Originating centuries earlier, royal families claimed dominion through fertile lands, stronger armies, strategic familial ties, securing authority over others.
However, remaining mere nobility meant equality among peers. Only members of their lineage could ascend to kingship. Lineage interruption led to chaos, sparking struggles for succession.
Reflecting on this, Viktor rode in the carriage, devoid of suspension, indistinguishable from peasant wagons save for added luxuries.
Inside lay cushions everywhere, whereupon he pondered his next steps.
Suddenly interrupted,
— Attack! Protect the master! — cried the knight.
"Are we under attack? Am I dying again, barely leaving my estate? Damn it, I should've pretended illness and refused," panicked Viktor as sword fights raged outside.
A moment later, the carriage door burst open revealing a masked bandit brandishing a short blade. Seeing him, Viktor lunged forward, flinging open the opposite door and tumbling outside.
Turning around, he spotted twelve assailants circling him; seven bodies lay dead, while three of his guardsmen had fallen. His knight fought alongside surviving soldiers.
These soldiers were apprentice contact mages known as novices, while the knight achieved bronze-level mastery.
Knights' ranks ranged from novice to legendary, with rumors circulating about an obscure "Eternal Radiance" rank, seldom seen except in legends.
Each rank subdivided into beginner, intermediate, advanced, and peak levels.
True mages existed separately, casting spells from afar using similar rankings but distinct methods.
For an inept son of a count, having a single bronze-level knight represented significant protection.
Standing shakily, Viktor retrieved a two-handed sword lying nearby, but found it impossibly heavy.
Abandoning that attempt, he searched desperately for cover, spotting a second carriage carrying servants. Racing toward it, however, a bandit materialized before him, raising his blade.
Instinctively shielding himself with crossed arms, closing his eyes tightly, moments later a metallic clang echoed—not pain.
Opening his eyes revealed a massive shield attached to his arm. Measuring roughly five feet long and thirty inches wide, adorned with glowing runes, it weighed nothing despite appearances.
Stunned, Viktor discovered he grasped a colossal two-handed hammer in his other hand, equally weightless compared to its formidable size.
Shaking off shock, he swung casually at the attacker, who instinctively blocked with his sword. Despite seeming fragile, the hammer crushed bones instantly, cleaving through flesh until halving the man's torso entirely.
— What the hell is happening? — Viktor exclaimed aloud.
Spinning around quickly, he noted only his lone knight and final soldier remained standing, splattered in blood and exhausted. Yet eight bandits still stood defiantly.
Without hesitation, Viktor charged forward. Manifested strength and armor bolstered confidence; perhaps fate wasn't cruel after all.