The dawn of a new day brought with it a cold, gray light that filtered through the ornate windows of Lukas's room. Hiruko, awake before the sun, dressed in the simple North Gate uniform, the itchy wool a stark change from the fine fabrics he had worn since arriving. The Tross crest on the tunic felt like a brand, a constant reminder of the facade he had to maintain.
A sharp rap on the door broke the silence. "Young Master, Lord Tross requests your presence in his study," a stern voice announced from the hallway.
Hiruko's heart skipped a beat. A morning summons from the patriarch of the Tross family. This was it. The ultimate test. He took a deep, steadying breath, reminding himself of the journal entries, the quiet desperation of the boy he was impersonating. He had to be that person—awkward, timid, and fearful of his father's disapproval.
He followed the maid, Theresa, down a different hallway, one lined with darker wood and imposing portraits of stern-faced ancestors. The air grew colder, the silence heavier, until they arrived at a massive, carved oak door. Theresa knocked once and, without waiting for a reply, pushed it open.
The room was a testament to the family's prestige. Bookshelves reaching to the ceiling were packed with tomes, and a massive desk of dark wood dominated the center. Behind it sat a man of commanding presence. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a stern face etched with sharp lines of authority and stress. His hair was a severe shock of white, but his eyes, Hiruko noticed with a jolt, were a striking, piercing emerald green—the same color as Lukas. This must be the man the journal referred to as "Father," Lord Xavier Tross.
Lord Xavier did not smile. He simply gestured to the chair opposite his desk. "Lukas. I trust you are feeling better?" His voice was deep, a low rumble that made the very air vibrate.
Hiruko sat, his hands clenching in his lap. "Yes, Father. Much better, thank you," he managed, his voice barely a whisper.
Lord Xavier leaned forward, his emerald eyes fixing on Hiruko with an intense scrutiny that made him feel like an insect under a microscope. "Good. We have much to discuss. Your little 'accident' was an embarrassment. It drew unwanted attention from the other noble families." He paused, his gaze hardening. "More importantly, it has set back your training. The riding lessons are a waste, and the fencing master says you lack even the most basic discipline. I had hoped your time at North Gate would at least teach you a degree of self-sufficiency. But I am told you still struggle with the basics."
Hiruko's mind raced, trying to formulate a response, but Lord Xavier was not finished. "I won't pretend I'm not disappointed, Lukas. We have given you every opportunity to improve. Your brother, Tristan, continues to excel at the Imperial Academy, even surpassing his own masters. The Tross name is built on mana. And your mana efficiency, Lukas… it is still abysmal. Have you at least made an effort to practice the basic cantrips I gave you?"
Hiruko's breath hitched. Mana efficiency. The words were a total unknown to him. This was not just a world of different cultures and clothes; it was a world of magic. And he was being asked about a skill he did not possess. He had to be careful. A single wrong word could expose him.
"I... I have, Father," Hiruko stammered, his mind frantically searching for a believable lie. "It's... slow going."
Lord Xavier sighed, a sound filled with the weight of utter exhaustion. "Slow is an understatement. I had hoped the trauma of the fall would have sparked some dormant potential in you. Sometimes, a shock to the system can awaken the magic within a person." He gave Hiruko a long, hard look that seemed to probe for any sign of a change. "I hope for your sake that something did, because your brother will be returning for a visit soon, and the family name cannot afford two public disgraces."
Lord Xavier's words landed with the weight of a physical blow. Two public disgraces. Hiruko's mind reeled, a cold fury rising within him. So it wasn't enough that the family had hidden Lukas away in a school for commoners; his father believed he was so utterly worthless that his mere association could taint the perfect Tristan. Hiruko felt a surge of righteous anger for the boy whose life he had stolen, the boy who had been forced to bear the full weight of his family's crushing expectations. It was an insult not just to Lukas's abilities, but to his very existence.
But Hiruko, the seasoned office worker, knew the art of hiding his true feelings behind a mask of polite deference. He pushed the anger down, deep into a place where it could simmer but not explode. Survival demanded a cool head. He met Lord Xavier's gaze, but kept his own eyes just a little downcast, feigning the timid, ashamed posture Lukas would have had.
"I... I understand, Father," Hiruko said, his voice a tight, humble whisper. "I promise I'll work harder. My accident was a setback, but I am determined to improve."
He knew this was his chance to escape. He could not, and would not, get into a conversation about mana and magic with this man, a discussion that would only expose his complete and total ignorance. He had to get to school. School, a place he now knew was Lukas's sanctuary, a place where he could ask questions without risking a lifetime of disappointment in his father's eyes.
He shifted in his seat, feigning a polite nervousness. "I should go, Father. It is getting late. I don't wish to be late for the opening lesson at North Gate."
Lord Xavier simply stared at him, his emerald eyes boring into him as if searching for a hidden lie. A long, excruciating moment passed. Finally, he gave a curt nod.
"See that you don't," Lord Tross said, his voice a final, unyielding command. "Your presence there is already a stain on our name. Do not make it a more permanent one."
Hiruko rose, bowed respectfully, and without another word, turned and walked out of the study. He did not let himself breathe again until the heavy oak door was closed behind him. His hands were clammy, his heart was a frantic drum against his ribs, but he had done it. He had survived the first confrontation with the head of the Tross family. The next step was to go to the North Gate School and find the answers that would help him not only survive but truly become the man Lukas Tross could never be.
The carriage ride to North Gate School was a strange paradox. Hiruko sat in the plush interior, a world away from the common streets outside, yet the escort who rode alongside, a stern-faced Tross family guard, kept a deliberate distance. This wasn't a show of honor; it was a precaution, a way to ensure the Tross name wasn't seen directly associating with the "disgraced" heir. The guard treated him like a fragile but contagious item. Hiruko had feigned a severe migraine, a plausible excuse for his lack of direction to the school, and the guard had accepted it with a sigh of weary duty.
When the carriage finally rumbled to a stop before the school's humble gates, a crowd of students was already waiting. They weren't in the clean, tailored uniforms of nobility, but in an assortment of practical, well-worn clothes. Their faces were etched with worry, and when they saw him emerge, a collective gasp and then a wave of relief swept through them. A boy with a mop of brown hair, Kaelen i presume, rushed forward first.
"Lukas! You're alright!" he exclaimed, his voice thick with concern. "We heard you fell from your horse. You didn't answer our letters, either."
Hiruko managed a small, genuine smile. "I'm fine, Kaelen. It was just a bad fall."
Soon, the entire class had swarmed around him, their initial concern turning into a lighthearted commotion. They clapped him on the back, shared jokes about his "dramatic entrance," and began to tease him about being a delicate noble. The easygoing banter was a stark contrast to the stiff formality of the Tross mansion. Here, he was just "Lukas," a friend they genuinely cared about. The weight of his lie felt lighter in their presence.
The first class was a practical lesson on Mana Flow and Efficiency. Hiruko, sat with a quiet, focused intensity. He listened to the instructor, an older man with kind eyes and a worn robe, explain the fundamental concepts of magic in this world.
"Mana," the instructor explained, "is the lifeblood of this world, a force that flows through all living things. Everyone has it, but some have more than others. The goal of a magician is to refine and control this flow, a process known as mana efficiency."
Hiruko's mind connected the dots. Lord Tross's earlier frustration—it all made sense now. Lukas wasn't just bad at magic; his mana efficiency was the source of his struggle.
The instructor then began to explain the concept of Magical Bloodlines. "Many noble families," he said, "have developed a unique magic Trait, a perk that is passed down through their lineage. These perks are often tied to a physical manifestation."
This was a bombshell. Hiruko's ears perked up, and he listened carefully. The instructor spoke of families whose eyes glowed in the dark or who could manipulate fire with a simple thought. He then mentioned the most popular and feared bloodline of all: the Rosewalt family.
"Their eyes," the instructor explained, his voice hushed, "are said to turn a vivid crimson when they activate their perk. They can influence the minds of people with low mana, making them see what isn't there, or convincing them of a truth that is a lie. It's a subtle but powerful magic."
Hiruko's heart skipped a beat. Mina Rosewalt. Her eyes had been a piercing blue the entire time they spoke. He hadn't seen a hint of red. The realization hit him with the force of a physical blow. She had held back, choosing to engage him in a conversation rather than use her ability. She could have easily influenced his mind and gotten the truth out of him, but she hadn't.
This meant one of two things: either she didn't want to use her magic on a friend, or she was testing him, waiting for him to slip up on his own. The second thought was far more terrifying.
As the lesson ended and the students began to pack their things, Hiruko had a new, terrifying insight. Mina wasn't just a prodigy; she was a magician with a dangerous bloodline. His excuse of a migraine might not be enough to fool her next time. He had to assume she knew something was wrong and that she was waiting for him to make a mistake.
The bell for the midday break clanged, a welcome sound that signaled a pause in the relentless flow of information. Students rose from their desks, the classroom filling with the low hum of chatter and the scraping of chairs. Hiruko, still processing the lecture on magical bloodlines, was lost in his thoughts, meticulously cataloging every new piece of information. The Rosewalt family's unique magic was a chilling revelation, and he kept replaying his encounter with Mina, her eyes a calm, deceptive blue.
A sudden, familiar voice cut through the noise, a melodic yet sharp sound that made his stomach clench. "There you are, Lukas. Hiding from me, as usual?"
He looked up to see Mina standing at the entrance of the classroom. Her fiery red hair seemed to burn in the sunlight filtering through the windows, and her blue eyes, so kind and yet so knowing, fixed on him. A group of his classmates, including Kaelen, watched with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.