A stack of books, scrolls, and what appeared to be leather-bound diaries lay scattered across a small parlor table, the remnants of my research.
The same servant who had fetched the juice had quietly placed them there an hour ago.
My eyes scanned the final pages of the official family history, and I finally leaned back in the plush armchair.
After finishing reading all of it, I was finally not so clueless.
The hours spent absorbing the dry prose and often-illegible scrawl of a teenage boy's journal had filled in the massive blanks.
I was the youngest of the three sons of House Morvaine. A powerful Grand Ducal family who ruled the west of the empire.
The sheer scale of that power was staggering.
The documents made it clear that the Morvaines weren't just wealthy nobles; they were essentially minor kings.
The family was also noted as being one of the four great families of the Astravian Empire, meaning their political influence and military strength were second only to the Emperor himself.
My father was Caelthar Veyne de Morvaine, the reigning Grand Duke, a man described with a kind of brutal efficiency and strategic genius.
My mother was Seraphyne Althira de Morvaine, the Grand Duchess, apparently a renowned beauty and social powerhouse.
My eldest brother was named Lucien Draeth de Morvaine, the heir, who seemed to be away from the ducal seat, serving the Emperor in the capital.
And the second was Eryndor Kaelith de Morvaine, a noted scholar and administrator.
Finally, me.
I was Draeven Vaelir de Morvaine, a sixteen-year-old. The journals were the most telling.
It was described as aloof and indifferent.
The previous Draeven was noted for his coldness, yes, but it wasn't an active malice.
He was merely detached, operating on a different emotional plane from everyone else.
This explained why the servants were terrified—not by active cruelty, but by the sheer, unreadable distance of their young master.
He was always away from social disputes.
The few entries that mentioned his interactions with other nobles or peers noted that Draeven was often silent, preferring to observe, or more often, simply leaving the scene altogether.
His presence was a nullifying factor, not an aggressive one.
He didn't engage in the petty squabbles and social games that occupied the court.
And apparently, he had no enemies.
This was a massive relief. The journals confirmed he wasn't disliked for active malice; he was just... disregarded.
He was seen as a strange, beautiful, and utterly unapproachable presence in the Morvaine household, an enigma who kept to himself.
This was far better than inheriting a list of rivals hungry for revenge.
'Good,' I thought.
'An aloof and indifferent noble is the perfect mask. It allows me to observe, learn, and survive without attracting undue attention. My promise to only care about myself just got a whole lot easier to keep.'
I was seen as not wanting to be bothered.
The consensus drawn from the journals and servant chatter was that Draeven Vaelir de Morvaine was a person of intense isolation.
He wasn't malicious; he just made it clear, through his silence and distance, that he had no interest in interacting with anyone.
'A natural introvert or an antisocial genius. Either way, it suits my current needs perfectly,' I reflected.
This estate was apparently dedicated for me.
The documents confirmed that this sprawling, opulent mansion was known as the Western Retreat and was, for all intents and purposes, my personal residence.
While I was technically welcome at the main Grand Ducal Palace, Draeven rarely chose to be there.
I assumed my brothers had their own, as well?
The histories mentioned the other brothers—Lucien and Eryndor—spent the majority of their time either at the capital or managing specific territorial holdings.
The fact that an entire ducal estate was set aside for the youngest, who was only sixteen, spoke volumes about the family's wealth and their hands-off attitude toward their aloof third son.
The House Morvaine was a magic swordsman family wielding both mana and aura as one.
The official histories were quite clear on this: the lineage of Morvaine was defined by their unique ability to seamlessly integrate the raw magical power of mana with the physical enhancement and martial skill of aura.
This was the source of their power as one of the four great families.
This confirmed the presence of magic, and not just one form of supernatural ability, but two distinct ones.
'Mana and Aura... this is definitely a fantasy world,' I thought, my mind racing with possibilities.
Draeven was more inclined in magic and not sword, apparently.
While his brothers excelled in swordplay and the cultivation of Aura, Draeven showed a marked preference for Mana-based studies.
I finally closed the last of the leather-bound journals, the scent of aged paper and ink hanging in the air.
I had enough knowledge to act, which was all that mattered.
I set the book down on the table with a soft thud.
Just as I settled back into the chair, reviewing my newly acquired identity as Draeven Vaelir de Morvaine, the door to the parlor opened.
The same nervous servant who had fetched the juice stood in the doorway, wringing his hands slightly.
As I conclude, the servant came and told me that I was called to the main palace tomorrow.
He spoke quickly, his voice still low and respectful.
"Your Highness, a message just arrived from the Grand Ducal Palace. You are requested to attend the palace tomorrow evening."
I raised a single eyebrow—a motion the face performed with effortless disdain.
"Requested?" I asked, my voice holding a hint of the cold authority I was getting used to.
The servant flinched.
"I-I apologize, Your Highness. You are commanded to attend the palace tomorrow evening."
Apparently, my brothers were back from the capital and we would have a family dinner.
"His Grace, the Grand Duke, wishes to gather the whole family. Prince Lucien and Prince Eryndor have both returned from the capital, and a dinner is planned for tomorrow night," the servant explained, his eyes still fixed on a spot behind my head.
'Lucien and Eryndor. The heir and the scholar. My brothers,' I processed the information.
This was an unexpected and inconvenient turn.
My plan had been to spend the next few weeks alone, fully mastering this new body and diving into the magic library.
Now, I was being pulled into the core of the House Morvaine.
I looked at the servant, my gaze indifferent.
"Very well. Have the appropriate arrangements made."
"Yes, Your Highness," he replied, executing a bow that was practically a folding of the body before he backed quickly out of the room.
'Well, this gives me less than a full day to prepare for my family,' I mused.
'The last thing I need is to accidentally offend the Grand Duke or the heir and end my second chance prematurely. I'll need to play the role of the aloof, indifferent younger brother perfectly.'
A family dinner was not going to be relaxing.
It was going to be my first great performance.
I... subconsciously became calculative!!
The realization hit me as I ran through the logistics of the upcoming family dinner, my mind instantly mapping out the hierarchy, predicting potential conversation topics, and forming strategies for when and how to excuse myself.
It wasn't a conscious effort; the thoughts had simply formed, perfectly organized and coldly rational, before I even consciously registered them.
It seemed the original body was affecting my original self.
Draeven Vaelir de Morvaine's ingrained personality wasn't just in his appearance or his tone of voice; it was influencing my very thought process.
The cold indifference I'd observed in the mirror had seeped into my core, replacing the fearful weariness I'd carried in my previous life with a detached, strategic efficiency.
'It's like wearing a suit of armor that affects my posture and mindset,' I mused.
'The calculating nature, the lack of emotional distress over this sudden life change—that isn't entirely me. It's him!'
Somehow, I felt braver. The exhaustion and timidity that had plagued me before were gone, replaced by a quiet, almost arrogant self-assurance.
Facing my powerful Grand Duke father and my potentially ruthless elder brothers no longer felt like a terrifying ordeal, but a problem to be solved, a scene to be observed and navigated.
The chilling detachment of Draeven Morvaine was turning out to be a powerful asset—a form of emotional immunity that I desperately needed to survive in this high-stakes world.
'Good. I need this bravery,' I thought, a thin, ruthless line forming on my lips.
'If I am to live, I will use every advantage this body gives me.'