A sharp inhale broke the stillness of the lavish chamber.
A charming white-haired young boy slept on the lavish bed.
The boy's silver eyes fluttered open, assaulted by light filtering through tall stained-glass windows. The ceiling above him arched like the hull of a grand ship, carved with ornate vines and crests. A chandelier of crystal and wrought iron hung motionless above a bed draped in velvet.
He bolted upright. The silk sheets slipped off his chest.
"Where… is this? "
His heart thundered in his ears as he scanned the room. Banners of hunts and battles covered the stone walls. A fireplace smoldered softly to his left, and beside it sat a polished suit of armor. Everything about the place screamed luxury
He swung his legs off the bed. His feet touched a thick rug instead of cold stone. He stood, unsteady, and caught his reflection in a tall mirror — and froze.
That was not his face.
Gone were the tired eyes, the rough stubble, the faded T-shirt he wore the night before. The boy staring back wore a deep burgundy robe trimmed with gold. His face was handsome, youthful— but foreign.
And with white hair and silver eyes, he looked out of the world.
Then, the pain came.
Like a dagger to the temple, a searing headache tore through his skull. He clutched it, staggering. Visions spilled into his mind — memories not his own. Swordplay in courtyards. Monster hunting in forests. Lavish banquets and bitter glances over silver goblets. Names, places, histories…
"Ace Thornevale, " he gasped aloud, staggering back onto the bed.
The sound of it made his stomach twist.
Ace Thornevale… The name pulsed in his mind, impossibly familiar — not because it was his, but because it wasn't. He'd read that name before. In a book.
His eyes widened.
"No. It couldn't be."
He staggered to the mirror again, staring into the stranger's aristocratic face. Then it all came rushing back.
Ace Thornevale was the villain.
Not just any villain — the mid boss of a fantasy novel he had read years ago in school.
The cruel, self-centered and arrogant noble who hated the hero for being a commoner, sided with demons, and in the final act… was devoured by the demons horribly.
"What the hell…" he whispered, backing away from the mirror.
The pounding at his temples returned, slower now, more like a drumbeat of inevitability. He knew the story's arc about how the cruel Ace perished by the hands of demons.
But he wasn't cruel. He wasn't a schemer. He was just… a guy. A normal man who went to sleep in his apartment and woke up in a villain's body.
He turned to the windows. Outside, banners of House Thornevale flapped in the wind — silver on black. Soldiers in polished mail patrolled the stone courtyard below.
A knock came again at the door,
"Young master, " came a softer voice — a woman's. "May I bring in your breakfast?"
He hesitated, heart still pounding, then exhaled. "Enter."
The heavy doors creaked open and a young maid stepped inside, carrying a silver tray laden with fruits, warm bread, a wedge of cheese, and a steaming cup of something that smelled faintly like spiced tea. She moved gracefully, her eyes downcast, she didn't meet his eyes — not out of respect, but out of fear.
She approached with the caution of someone handling a venomous creature and set the tray on the small dining table by the stained-glass window.
Ace didn't even look at the tray. He looked at her. Observed her posture, her movements, her silence.
She stood with her head bowed. Waiting.
Well Ace Thornevale was a ticking time bomb that instills fear in every servant, no one can predict when he might issue the order for execution.
"Stay a moment," he said.
The maid froze, then slowly straightened. "Yes, my lord?"
He sat down in the cushioned chair beside the table, ignoring the food. His thoughts raced, spiraling into chaos. Ace Thornevale. The villain, heir of the Thornevale duchy.
The Thornevale Duchy, the most powerful of all, oversees almost a quarter of the Solarian Empire.
Situated on the southern edge of the empire, it shares a border with the foreboding Vinewood Forest.
Even the royal family treads carefully around the Thornevales.
Their military might is unmatched, forged through generations of fending off the monsters that lurk within Vinewood's depths.
If the demons attack, the forest would be their gateway where only the Thornevales stand in their path.
The empire needs their strength, even if it fears their power.
Due to their feats on the battlefield, the former king even granted the Thornevale family a rare privilege—they were no longer required to bow or kneel before the throne. A gesture of respect… and fear.
Ace crossed one leg over the other. The smell of hot bread, fruit compote, and spiced tea filled the air — but it was background noise.
"Do you always serve like this?" he asked, voice smooth.
The maid blinked, caught off-guard. "M-my lord?"
"So… stiff," he said, lifting a silver goblet and inspecting it.
"I—I apologize if I've displeased you, my lord—"
He waved a hand. "No. You've merely reminded me of how far beneath me most things are especially now that I am the heir of Thornevale duchy."
He took a long sip of the tea. It was sharp and fragrant, with hints of cinnamon and orange. His lips curled.
It came to him so naturally. This arrogance. This disdain. Not just from the man whose body he now occupied — but from himself.
From his old life.
He remembered clearly now: all the jobs he had left, not because he lacked skill, but because his pride refused to let him work under fools. One job after another, until his name became blacklisted throughout company networks. Too proud to submit. Too intelligent to play obedient.
The world had failed to recognize his worth.
But this world… oh, this world? It already knew his name. It whispered it in fear and reverence.
Ace Thornevale.
He laughed — low and amused. "To think, I was once expected to bow and scrape in an office cubicle. Now? The sun rises only because I permit it."
The maid was still there, stiff as a statue.
Ace tilted his head, eyeing her again. "Remind me. When is the entrance ceremony for the Imperial Academy?"
She seemed surprised by the question. "In six months' time, my lord "
Six months. Much more time than he expected. A smirk touched his lips.
More than enough.
According to the memory, there were three more heirs of the Thornevale family, my two twin half-brothers Cedric and Cassian. Born of Lady Virelle, my father's second wife, also the sister of current emperor.
It was a tradition that every generation, a princess would be married to the Thornevales.
That meant the twins, his half-brothers — had imperial blood in their veins. Pretty, polished little vipers, if memory served. Smiled like angels. Fought like cornered dogs.
There is… also Lucy. my younger half-sister, born of a maid in my father's service. She is timid and have low self-esteem because of being bullied by my twin half brothers.
She is one of the heroines and the mole through which the hero destroyed the Thronevale family.
All of the children of Thornevale family's head, be it legitimate or illegitimate, have the birth right to compete for the family head's position.
The royal family wants to control the Thornevales from generations in hopes that their children might become the Thornevale family head allowing the royal family to gain control over Thornevale duchy.
But that never happened even if they became the head, they never submitted to throne.
The reason was simple, when one possesses strength and governs a quarter of an empire, there is no reason to lower one's head.
This time, they ensured that my half-brothers were pampered from birth and were influenced by their mother, so that when they assume their positions, they only listen to her. Giving the control to the emperor.
Ace rose from the chair and stepped toward the window, gazing down upon the vast courtyard below. A captain barked orders at a column of young squires. From this height, they looked like ants — scurrying, predictable, beneath his gaze.
"A noble house with three sons and a bastard daughter," he mused.
His smile widened — cold and sharp.
"I wonder who'll try to poison me first after graduating"
The Thornevales only allow the competition for the next head after one graduate from the academy.
Ace turned slightly, his robe shifting like bloodstained silk across the floor, remembering something from the novel,
'But why was there no plot of my two half-brothers in the novel, only two hires were mentioned...'
Ace caressed his fingers through his hairs,
'Something must have happened to them before the entrance ceremony... '
Ace noticed the maid standing there with her head down,
"Summon the head butler. Now. "
Maid looked up, startled, then hurriedly bowed low. "At once, my lord."
As she left the room in a hurry,
He moved to the wardrobe and flung it open. Silks. Velvet. Wool lined with fox fur. Embroidered coats bearing his family crest. Gold filigree and jeweled pins, cloaks with embroidery so fine it looked painted.
He chose a deep midnight coat with silver trimming, a black cravat set with a blood-red garnet, and rings that sparkled like they were meant to blind.
As he dressed, he admired the man in the mirror.
Tall. Cold-eyed. Sharper than any blade on his belt.
"A villain, they called you," he said under his breath, lips curling. "They were the true villains, turning a proud man into the way of the evil"
Once fully dressed, he slid on his gloves, buckled a sword at his hip, and stepped toward the doors.
Two guards outside stiffened the moment he emerged. Their eyes flicked to his clothes, then quickly away — not daring to look too long.
Ace walked through the stone halls of Thornevale Manor — not one inch of hesitation in his stride. Every servant he passed lowered their head. Every guard snapped upright. Even the stewards paused in their murmured meetings.
He descended the grand staircase as if it had been carved for him alone. The stained-glass windows poured colored light across the marble — red, blue, gold — like a divine spotlight.
As the grand doors of the manor opened and sunlight spilled onto the stone steps, Ace stepped out in full display — a regal silhouette draped in black and silver, with his crimson garnet glinting like a warning.
The wind caught the edge of his cloak as he descended toward the main path of the estate, lined with trimmed hedges, ornamental statues, and a glistening fountain.
Ace strode to the stone bench near the fountain, sitting beneath the shadow of a marble hawk carved mid-dive. The servants kept a wide berth, their eyes flicking toward him but never resting too long.
As it should be.
Minutes passed before the familiar sound of measured footsteps approached — firm, rhythmic, practiced.
A tall, aging man in crisp black stepped into view and bowed low.
"Young master, " he said. "You summoned me.."