The carriage wheels of the tax collector had barely stopped echoing on the cobblestones when the heavy front doors burst open.
"Theodore! Theo, where are you?"
A woman rushed into the hall, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her noble dress was stained with the red clay of the northern fields, and her hair, usually pinned in a neat bun, was windswept. This was my mother, Lady Elena Vance.
Our territory, the Aurelia Highlands, was located in the rugged northern reaches of the Empire. It was a land of breathtaking views—jagged, snow-capped mountains that reminded me of the Himalayas—but it was a difficult land to rule. We survived on high-altitude farming, but with the "Mana Drought" affecting the soil, the crops were stunted.
My mother had spent the entire day in the fields, trying to negotiate with merchants to sell our half-grown harvest just to scrape together enough gold for the tax.
"Mother, I'm here," I said, stepping forward.
She grabbed my shoulders, her eyes searching mine for any sign of injury. "I heard the carriage... I thought they had come to take you. I thought we had finally lost everything." Her voice broke. "Your father is still at the monster subjugation front in the Iron Peaks... he hasn't sent a letter in weeks. I... I was ready to tell Hans to pack the bags. I thought we'd have to abandon the manor tonight."
"Madam, please," Hans stepped forward, his voice trembling with a rare excitement. "Do not worry about the bags. A miracle has occurred."
"A miracle?" she whispered, looking confused.
"The Young Master," Hans bowed deeply toward me. "He didn't just pay the tax. He presented crystals of such purity that Master Kaelen left in a state of shock. The House of Vance is safe for another month."
My mother looked at me as if she were seeing a stranger. I just gave her a small, reassuring smile—the kind of calm smile the Sadhu used to give me when I was worried about the winter frost. "Go rest, Mother. You've worked harder than any of us today."
She was too stunned to argue. As Hans led her toward the sitting room to calm her nerves, I made my way up the grand staircase to my bedroom.
The moment I closed the door, a flicker caught the corner of my eye.
[System Initialization: 99%...]
[Status: Locked. Requires Frequency Sync.]
I stared at the floating golden words. They weren't reacting to my voice or my thoughts. I looked down at the locket around my neck—the only thing I had kept from my great-grandmother. It was a heavy silver piece with a single, unpolished ruby at the center.
"The vibration is the key," I muttered.
I sat on the bed and began to hum the Gayatri Mantra, the most sacred vibration I knew. As the sound resonated in my chest, the ruby in the locket began to glow.
[SYNC ACHIEVED.]
[User: Theodore Aryan Vance.]
[Inheritance Protocol: Activated.]
Suddenly, a flood of memories that weren't mine crashed into my mind. I saw the "Theodore" of this world. He was a boy who knew he was a failure. He had been called "Mana-less" since he was six. Every noble party he attended, he was the target of hushed whispers.
Yet, as the memories flowed, I felt a strange warmth. The people of the Aurelia Highlands didn't hate him. The farmers, the blacksmiths, the maids—they loved him. He was the "Kind Little Raven" who helped fix their fences, who sat with the elderly when they were sick, and who shared his meager allowance with the orphans. He was a failure as a mage, but he was a hero to the common folk.
I walked over to a corner of the room where a heavy iron-bound box sat under a layer of dust. In the memories, I saw Theodore spending nights here, desperately trying to overcome his weakness.
I opened the box. Inside were stacks of old, handwritten books—his journals. Every single magic circle, every sword form, every theory on mana was recorded here in messy, frantic ink. On top of the books lay a practice sword, its hilt worn down from thousands of hours of swinging in the dark.
He hadn't been lazy. He had fought harder than anyone to be a "real" noble.
"I've got it from here, Theo," I whispered to the empty room. "You did the hard work. I'll provide the 'Jugaad'."
Among the books, I saw a portrait of a tall, muscular young man with a kind face and the same raven-black hair as mine. Valerius Vance, my older brother. He was currently at the Imperial Academy, fighting to keep our family's reputation alive. He was the one who had sent me the letters of encouragement, telling me that even if I never touched magic, I would always be a Vance.
A bell chimed from downstairs. Dinner was served.
I straightened my tunic and checked the mirror. I didn't see a failure anymore. I saw a bridge between two worlds.
I walked down to the dining hall. The long oak table was set, and the candles were lit. My mother sat at the head, looking more composed but still watching me with wonder.
Tonight, for the first time in years, the "Cursed House" didn't feel so cursed.