On a quiet morning, in a small village outside the city, a maiden, her hair tied back, carried a tray as she strolled through the village. The village was decorated with paintings, furniture, and tableware. The walls, painted blue and white, were adorned with floral patterns. The maiden stopped in front of a door and knocked lightly. Knock-knock— There was no answer from the other side.
"Master, you have a letter from the head of the family," the maiden said from outside. The sound of footsteps approaching the door was immediately heard, and there was movement at the door; a young man dressed in a simple white shirt came out.
"What is it?" he asked spitefully.The maiden held out the letter.
"Good heavens, with all this technology, they still send letters… these noble traditions are a real nuisance," the young man muttered as he took it. He went inside with the letter, gesturing for the maiden to enter. The maid entered with the tray and placed it on a small round table with two chairs on the balcony.
The young man sat down in the chair and held out his hand. The maid immediately produced a small knife that couldn't be used as such; it was a beautifully decorated letter opener.
The maid placed the letter opener in the young man's hand.
The young man glanced at the letter.
"When they delivered the letter, were they nervous, worried, anything?" he asked the maid.
She nodded.
"They were somewhat hurried. They delivered the letter and left immediately, but that's not unusual."
The young man nodded and brought the tip of the letter opener to the edge of the envelope, sliding it smoothly and cutting it wide open.
He took the paper inside the letter, unfolded it, and read it carefully. At first, he wore a rather uninterested expression, but the more he read, the more his brow furrowed, until an indescribable look, somewhere between anger and resignation, settled on his face.
The young man placed the paper on the table, picked up the coffee cup from the tray, and drank it quickly.
"Make another one, bitter," he said simply, and the maid took the cup away immediately.
The young man, alone, muttered, "You damned useless old man... you don't care about my existence, and now you come up with this nonsense."
The young man took the sandwich placed on the plate, something simple to eat that he particularly liked.
He ate slowly, savoring the flavor, but no matter how much he ate, the taste didn't reach his mouth.
"You ruined my breakfast, you old bastard," he said as he stood up and looked at himself in the mirror.Black hair, green eyes. Flawless skin, not a single scar.
His body was somewhat slender, but beautiful in its own way.
"A body sculpted to my liking," he said, gazing at his reflection in the mirror with a smile.
"The only good thing about coming into this world was this," he added, sitting down. "At least I don't have to worry about eating or sleeping, but those idiots in the family are a nuisance," he muttered.
He had possessed this boy's body five years ago.
He was a nobleman from a prestigious family: Nightingale. I was 'Vincent of Nightingale.'
During the five years I'd been in this world, I'd spent half my time in this villa, far removed from the rest of the family. As the fourth son, I had no chance of inheriting the house; I was invisible to them, and due to internal and external problems, I'd left the main residence and moved to this small villa.
Until now, I hadn't received a single letter or message from the rest of the family; I wasn't important to them, so they completely ignored me.
But a very important event was about to take place, and since I was the only one in the family who met the requirements, I was summoned back.
"At least they didn't beat around the bush and told me straight up what was happening," he murmured as he stood up.
The maid arrived and handed him the cup of coffee. The young man took it immediately and drank it all.
He sighed and stuck out his tongue slightly at the bitter taste. "Very bitter."
"It's what you ordered," the maid said.
Vincent said nothing and placed the cup on the tray.
"Get my uniform ready, I'm going to train outside," he said as he left.
The maid nodded and dressed Vincent in black shorts with suspenders, a long-sleeved white shirt, and black boots.
The maid looked at him and smiled, thinking, "How handsome."
Vincent took the sword that lay near his bed and fastened his belt with the sword scabbard.
He left the room and walked down the corridor to the small training field.
It was empty; the guards were patrolling as usual, so no one was there at the moment.
He stood before a training dummy, raised his sword, aligning his hand at chest level, and stared intently at the dummy.
He immediately stepped forward and thrust into its center; then he withdrew his sword and executed several cuts in rapid succession. It was an impressive sight.
Finally, he stopped as the dummy fell with a thud.
"Splendid, young master," said the maid, clapping as she approached.
Vincent immediately shook his head as he sheathed his sword.
"Although it looks good, it has no substance. It's different from what knights or soldiers can do. Mine is just for show," he explained ruefully.
"If it weren't for the fact that, as a nobleman, I had to learn swordsmanship, I wouldn't do it. I know I have no talent for it in the first place," he added, gesturing. The maid obediently brought a wooden wand with a gem at its tip.
"This suits me better," he said, pointing at the mannequin. "Restore."
The magic manifested: the mannequin slowly regained its missing parts as if time were being rewound. Not only were recent damages reversed, but also the wear and tear accumulated over time and from the knights' training.
"Impressive," said the maid at the display of magic.
Vincent stretched. "A single spell consumes a lot of magic… God, I'm exhausted just from casting one," he said, walking toward the exit of the training field. "Oh, that's right, I need you to prepare a uniform for me."
"What for, young master?" she asked.
"I'm entering the Imperial Academy next week, so I need a uniform."