The last thing he remembered was the dim glow of his bedside lamp, the book still warm in his hands. His favorite novel—he had read it countless times, yet somehow it never lost its magic. Somewhere between the words on the page and his drifting thoughts, sleep had stolen him away.
When his eyes fluttered open again, the sight that greeted him nearly stole his breath. The ceiling soared high above, gilded with gold patterns and chandeliers of sparkling crystal. The walls were draped with silken tapestries, and the floor glimmered as if polished by the hands of angels. It was a room of luxury fit for royalty.
He blinked rapidly. This… this isn't my apartment.
Instinctively, he raised his hand—and froze. The hand that entered his view was small, delicate, pale. Not the hand of a grown man.
His heart lurched. He shot up from the bed, stumbled across the thick carpet, and caught sight of a tall mirror standing against the wall.
What he saw nearly stopped his heart.
Reflected in the polished glass was not himself, but a boy—twelve years old at most, with glossy black hair, noble features, and a body so well-proportioned it could melt the heart of any girl who laid eyes on him. He looked like the very picture of a young noble heir.
But instead of joy, dread washed over him. Because he knew this face.
The memory came crashing back like lightning: this was the younger brother of the heroine. The only male ever born into the proud Dragon Clan of Aetherix, a child expected to blaze with unmatched talent. Yet at fourteen, when his peers awakened good affinity , he would awaken… trash level affinity .
Trash. That's what the world would call him. Beautiful, but useless.
His family would stand by him, supporting him even as others mocked. But he remembered clearly how this boy's story ended. During the Academy entrance exam, he had dared to stand against the so-called protagonist. And for that… he was slaughtered.
The memory of the book replayed vividly in his mind. The cunning protagonist had not fought fair—he had used forbidden magic, twisted strategies, and finally ripped the boy's dragon heart from his chest to fuel his own rise to power. The Aetherix Clan had nearly started a war in their rage, but the protagonist's schemes ran deep. He pinned the crime on a rampaging beast, then slew that very beast himself, winning the trust of the sister whose heart he secretly coveted.
And now—he was in the body of that boy.