Lann's Amnesia: A Tale of Forgotten Bullets and Fabricated Mediocrity

This is the story of a man let's call him a "incompetent vessel of borrowed existence" might be more accurate who opened his eyes in a diner decorated like a baroque funeral home had a baby with a film noir set piece, coughed up blood with the casual aplomb of a consumption patient speedrunning tuberculosis, and discovered he could field-strip a weapon he'd never seen before. With the muscle memory that screamed "professional killer" while his brain screamed "who am I and why does my handkerchief have blood on it?" Enter: an entity. Not a god but something that offered him a deal wrapped in the kind of philosophical packaging that makes you suspect you're being scammed but can't quite identify how. The terms were simple, in the way that Faustian bargains are simple: recover your memories by murdering a few members of a royal family and stealing thier "golden hearts" by seducing thier daughters (and maybe a femboy I dont know it depends on the vibes). Easy and straightforward. The stage: an elite academy where the gifted and talented gather to do whatever gifted and talented people do when concentrated in one location plot against each other and engage in psychological warfare disguised as extracurricular activities. The role he plays is Lann Latire, a boy cursed with the most ironic ability in the history of ironic abilities the power to enhance everyone else's gifts while possessing none of his own. The NPC in someone else's protagonist story. Except this NPC has the hands of a hitman and the existential dread of someone who knows they're performing in a play without having read the script. This is a story about mistaken identities, borrowed bodies, and the philosophical question: if you have all the skills but none of the memories, are you the person you were, or just a very confused imposter with excellent aim?