Mark spent a long moment cursing Thaddeus in his mind before forcing his thoughts elsewhere. Though he had wanted to avoid it, he eventually had to face the grim reality of his new body. He had initially thought the environment was simply dark, but it was now clear that he was entirely blind. When he reached out to touch the System panel, he felt nothing but air; the glowing screen existed only within his mind.
As he attempted to move, he confirmed that his left leg was indeed shorter, making every step a clumsy struggle. The "small brother" (his reproductive organ) was structurally intact but lacked any functionality, just as the System had stated. Furthermore, he discovered flaws the System hadn't explicitly mentioned: he found it nearly impossible to keep his back straight. His spine felt hunched and weak, forcing him into a permanent stoop.
As he continued to test the limits of his frail, aching body, the sharp sound resonated in his mind once more:
"Ding!"
[Host, prepare yourself. Until now, the System has been forcibly suppressing the original memories of the host, Thaddeus von Lightborn. They will be released into your consciousness in 3 seconds.]
As Mark finished the last line, the countdown reached zero. In an instant, the entire lifetime of another human being surged into his mind like a violent tidal wave. The physical pain flared up once more, but this time the primary agony wasn't in his eyes—it was deep within his skull. The memories didn't unfold like a chronological film strip; instead, they manifested as a sudden, overwhelming influx of foreign emotions, faces, and facts.
For several disorienting minutes, Mark lost his sense of self. He struggled to distinguish whether he was Mark Miller or Thaddeus von Lightborn. The sheer volume of information was so vast that his consciousness felt as though it might crack under the pressure. Eventually, the throbbing pain began to recede.
Mark took a moment to sort through the mental clutter. To his relief, he remained himself. While Thaddeus's memories had left a deep mark on him, they hadn't consumed him. He hadn't become Thaddeus; instead, the noble's past felt like a secondary narrative—a story he had merely watched, rather than lived.
After sorting through the memories, Mark could see the story from two perspectives: as an outsider looking in, and as Thaddeus himself. The House of Lightborn was unique among the nobility—it was a clan defined by pure combat. Succession was not a birthright; it was earned through strength. The Patriarch maintained a primary wife and numerous concubines, and Thaddeus was the product of such a union. His mother had simply handed him over to the clan, taken her payment, and vanished without a trace.
For the Lightborns, talent outweighed blood. If a genius appeared among commoners, they would adopt them or marry them into the family to strengthen the lineage. This was exactly how the protagonist had eventually been integrated into the clan.
Thaddeus's upbringing had been a rigorous blend of etiquette, history, magic, and weapon mastery. It was here that his innate talent truly shone. He possessed a pair of extraordinary eyes—a unique trait that allowed him to mimic any movement or technique after seeing it just once. In battle, he could analyze an opponent's patterns and flaws within seconds. What took his peers months to master, Thaddeus could replicate perfectly on his first try. This effortless brilliance fed his ego, turning him into an arrogant noble who couldn't even fathom the concept of defeat.
With his brilliant talent and striking appearance—piercing crimson eyes and snow-white hair—Thaddeus had become a sensation among the high nobility at a very young age. This prestige led to his engagement at age eleven to Anastasia, the youngest daughter of the influential Duke Bismarck. However, the rigorous training of the Lightborn family only lasted until age twelve.
After the twelfth birthday, the family would grant each child absolute freedom, monitored only by a secret observer disguised as a butler. This was the clan's true test: what would a child achieve when the leash was removed? Would they continue to self-improve? Would they build a business or a power structure of their own? As long as they didn't tarnish the family's reputation and could keep their indiscretions hidden, the clan would not interfere. But the penalty for a public failure was ruthless: exile or even death. In the House of Lightborn, even the most gifted genius could be erased in a single day, which was precisely why the Patriarch fathered so many children.
Thaddeus failed this test spectacularly. Blinded by constant praise and the security of the Lightborn-Bismarck alliance, he felt his future as the heir was already secured. He abandoned his daily training, choosing instead to spend his time at social gatherings under the pretense of "building an image." In reality, he was wasting his youth with idle nobles—disinherited sons with no claim to their family legacies. By sixteen, his growth had completely stagnated. He relied solely on his photographic memory for theory and his "Mimic Eyes" to fake his way through combat. Even when he entered the Academy, he remained among the top elites. This hollow life of easy victories continued until his second year, when the "Protagonist" enrolled as a freshman.