The corridor floor was colder than it looked.
For a few seconds, maybe longer, I didn't move. Just sat still, eyes closed, trying to restrain myself from going mad.
Then, I fell.
Lying down upon the floor, trying to process the events that had just gone down.
Marble pressed against my cheek. The world tilted sideways, banners and lantern lights stretching into thin blur. Somewhere down the hall, students were still talking. Laughing. The duel. The forfeit. My name.
Cassian Argell.
It echoed differently here.
I pushed myself up slowly, palm slipping once against polished stone. My arm trembled. Not out of fear but out of shock. Out of uncertainty.
"Get up," I muttered to myself.
The body obeyed. My body obeyed, but reluctantly.
My body felt like it belonged to someone who'd skipped training for months. Rather not even had any form of training at all. There was no hidden strength present. No protagonist's awakening. Just fatigue rising up my spine like a reminder of how this body wasn't made for this; anything.
The corridor stretched long and arched, lanterns humming faintly overhead with stored mana. Students passed me in clusters. Some went quiet when I approached. Others didn't bother.
"That's him."
"He bowed."
"Pathetic."
I kept walking.
Each step felt out of my own will. Controlled. I had spent years teaching myself how to walk through rooms without reacting. Head straight. Shoulders squared. No unnecessary motion. It was a habit I didn't realize I still had until now, yet now I was in urgent need of it.
Old instincts inside a new body.
When I reached the second-year dormitory wing, the noise dulled behind thick oak doors. The hallway here smelled faintly of parchment and wax polish.
Wealth. Privilege. Entitlement.
My room was at the far end of the large hallway. Across which were multiple rooms, each with doors covered in gold. The lights shone with brilliance, with an illuminating light.
Then it came.
Cassian Argell's room.
The key turned too easily.
The door clicked shut behind me with a finality that felt heavier than the duel had.
For the first time since the light swallowed the street and the truck's horn tore through the night, I was alone.
All alone.
The room was… tasteful.
That surprised me.
Dark wood furniture. A neatly made bed draped in black and silver. A desk positioned near a tall window overlooking the inner courtyard. Shelves lined with spell theory tomes and bound notebooks.
Nothing extravagant. But well organized.
Someone had cared about appearances.
I stood in the center of the room and let the silence settle.
Then I moved to the mirror.
The reflection stared back without hesitation.
Leaner than my old body. Younger. Sharper lines along the jaw. Pale skin that hadn't seen much sun. Midnight-black hair falling just past the brow, slightly untidy from the collapse.
Ocean blue eyes shining like the sea. A face so pretty it made the onlooker question whether its wearer was truly a man.
The face looked composed. That was almost insulting.
I rolled my shoulders.
The motion felt wrong. The joints are too light. My perfect balance was slightly off. I flexed my fingers. Long. Elegant. Lady like.
Having gotten a feel for Cass... my new body, I went ahead and sat on top of my bed.
Closing my eyes, I focused. Inside.
I reached inward, cautiously, searching for what the game had described as an internal aura.
There.
A faint warmth beneath the ribs.
Thin.
The mana channels felt like narrow glass tubes, fragile and underused. When I pushed just slightly, the flow wavered, unstable. Poorly reinforced. No discipline.
The recoil made me cough up blood. Cassian hadn't trained seriously. He'd relied on his status his entire life. On intimidation.
"Man, was this guy a prick," I said with anger.
I exhaled slowly.
"So that's the foundation," I murmured.
A terribly weak body, so weak in fact, even a little girl would probably win against it in a game of arm wrestling. Weak channels of mana with slightly above average talent, yet no refinement. Yet, it had a strong name. That is it, "had" a strong name towards which only a bad reputation and resentment were left.
Sighing after seeing the state I was now in, I moved to the desk.
There was a locked drawer beneath it.
I put the key in the top compartment.
Inside were three things.
A stack of folded letters tied with black thread.
A thin leather ledger.
And a single sheet of parchment, half-written.
I picked up the letters first.
Most were from House Argell.
The seal, a stylized wolf's head, pressed deep into red wax.
The handwriting was sharp and smooth. Quite dignified.
The first letter I opened was from Theron Argell. The head and patriarch of the Argell household. And the father of Cassian
You are to remember that your conduct reflects upon our name. Weakness is not tolerated. You will secure influence in your year. I expect reports of progress.
No greeting was said, only an order. No closing was made; only expectations were placed.
The second letter was disappointingly even shorter.
I have received complaints. This is not how an heir behaves. Correct it.
Having no expectations left, I opened the third letter.
The third, however, bore a different hand.
The letter was more delicate, soft, and caring. It was actually sent with love, though seemingly with cracks.
Vernisse. The mother of Cassian Argell
You have always been too emotional. Too impulsive. Do not embarrass us. Take care. I expect betterment in the future.
I stared at that one longer than I meant to.
"Too emotional, huh?"
I carefully folded the letters back. One by one, grazing through them. Trying to get a look at the man who once lied before me inside what was now my body.
There were no affectionate words present. No inquiry into health. No warmth. Just performance reviews disguised as family correspondence.
I understood something then.
Cassian hadn't been cruel for sport. He'd been performing. Trying to meet an impossible standard set by people who only valued results.
However, that was still not certain yet; looking at his actions, the situation could have been the complete opposite. There was the possibility of his actions leading to the breaking of bonds with his family. Leaving nothing but empty expectations for results.
The ledger came next.
It was filled with names, records, and actions that had transpired since Cassian had entered the academy.
It contained the names of first and second-year students.
Small sums of coin listed beside them.
"Late payment — increase pressure."
"Remind him of his scholarship."
"Public example if necessary."
It was a culmination of petty debts that had served as a way to boost Cassian's sense of authority and power.
Not large enough to ruin lives. Just large enough to control them.
Fear management.
That was the principle behind the seemingly plain course of actions that Cassian had taken.
My stomach tightened.
He'd been squeezing underclassmen for leverage. So he could acquire obedience. So he could acquire a reputation.
It wasn't monstrous. It was worse. It was ordinary. Plain and simple, not harmless; however, it also wasn't harmful.
I closed the ledger.
Then I picked up the final sheet.
The half-written note, which had been placed by the man who once bore the name I now lived by.
The handwriting was forceful and crude.
If you value your continued presence at this Academy, you will refrain from speaking about today's events. I will not tolerate insolence from someone of your standing. Remember your place.
The signature space at the bottom was blank.
He hadn't sent it yet. He was going to.
Probably to Elden.
My jaw tightened.
I read the letter again.
Power without strength, that was it. I finally realized. The original Cassian was a man in constant fear without any courage. A pitiful man trying to hide his regular, weak self in a world run by the strong.
This was the life I had inherited.
With which came a reputation. A name that made people brace before I even spoke. I sat down slowly on the edge of the bed, parchment still in hand.
For a moment, I let myself feel it fully.
Not "how do I fix this."
Just the weight.
On Earth, I had known what it was like to be judged by a uniform. By association. By assumption.
Now I wore a different kind.
A noble heir's shadow.
Now a different man in a world all too familiar yet distant.
I laughed once, softly.
"You really made a mess, didn't you?" I muttered, not sure if I meant him or me.
I lay back against the mattress, staring at the ceiling.
The room smelled faintly of ink and polished wood. The smell of flowers and the cold wind sweeping through the open window.
No cars rushed down the street. No lights shone on gigantic towers.
Just distant footsteps and the occasional murmur from the courtyard below.
I lifted the threatening note above me.
Read it one last time.
Then, I tore it in half.
More than half, I tore it again and again and again. And kept going at it till it was but ink scattered on bits and pieces.
The sound was quiet, but it felt significant.
I let the pieces fall onto the floor beside the bed.
"I won't be you," I said into the empty room. I didn't know how I would undo the damage. But I would change. Not for glory. Not for fame. But for what has always been my goal: For Survival
I didn't know what my next course of actions were gonna be, but I knew this: I would not become another small tyrant clinging to inherited authority.
If I was going to survive here, it wouldn't be by playing the villain properly.
The ceiling above was smooth white stone, with intricate patterns and symmetrical lines joining together.
Hours passed in a daze. The lanternlight across the academy dimmed. Voices in the hall outside faded one by one. Somewhere in the distance, a bell marked midnight. Then another marked two.
Sleep didn't come easily.
Every time my eyes closed, I saw flashing headlights. Marble floors. A crowd's cheer.
A truck's horn.
A proctor's voice.
Cassian Argell.
Near dawn, when the sky outside the window shifted from black to bruised violet, I was still awake.
Staring. Breathing. Listening to the quiet.
I realized what the weight carried by the name that I now have inherited. The life I'm now gonna live.
A slight smile of both happiness and madness formed on my mouth.
"I wanted a purpose. I now have it. I will survive like I always have," I chuckled, laughing with uncertainty of ever being able to do it again.
Now it was my job to make this name my own.
Because, no matter the past. Starting from now on, I am Cassian Argell.