Alex opened his eyes. His gaze was fixed on the high ceiling, adorned with intricate crown molding that, in the twilight, looked like a bizarre web of shadows. His body still felt foreign, heavy, and unresponsive. But that wasn't the main thing right now. Alex was thinking about the memories that had swallowed him and forced him into unconsciousness. Now, many things had become clear: why the maids trembled in his presence, and the strange look the Duke gave him during his visits.
"Damn it," Alex muttered. "This is both strange and sad at the same time."
From the memories of the "original" Alex, it was clear that he had grown up a happy child. He was born to Edward's third wife, Amelia. Although the boy didn't possess the same talents as his older brothers... For example, his eldest brother, Aeon, like their father, could manipulate the weight of his sword. And while it wasn't as impressive as Edward, who was rumored to be able to shatter a boulder into tiny shards, Aeon was still considered a gifted swordsman and the primary candidate for the inheritance. His other brother, Valtur, was known for his speed; his movements weren't magical, but he could be three times faster than an experienced knight.
Over time, their abilities only improved. Against them, Alex looked like an ordinary person who simply knew how to hold a sword. This could have been a burden for young Alex, if not for his close relationship with his brothers and stepmothers. But he had a truly special bond with his mother. Since his father was often away on duty—hunting wild beasts or dealing with border skirmishes—Amelia was the one who raised Alex. She often said, "A person can prove themselves in many ways, Alex. Just because you don't have the same talent as your brothers doesn't mean you are worse. You will always find your place in something else. And I will always be there to support you."
But everything changed one winter. The Duke was away as usual, and the cold was particularly brutal. Amelia fell ill. A common cold quickly escalated into a fever, and within a few weeks, she was gone.
Amelia's death broke something in Alex. At first came devastation, then rage at the injustice of the world, at his father for not protecting his mother, and even at Amelia herself for not keeping her promise to stay by his side. Alex became extremely irritable. He lashed out at everyone, especially the servants. To him, it seemed they were the ones to blame for the tragedy. Why did she catch a cold? Why didn't the servants notice it sooner?
His brothers and stepmothers tried to reach him, but when something in the soul shatters, it isn't easily fixed. Over time, they gave up and drifted away. That was how Alex grew up, despising those around him—especially commoners.
"So, that's what happened."
Alex remained lying there, processing all the new memories received from his predecessor. Now he was certain that this was all reality—or a very strange dream.
Dawn was already breaking. He vaguely remembered how the original Alex died in the novel. It was all because of his treatment of his fiancée. She was the daughter of a former Baron who had served Edward. In the novel, this Alex treated her like a servant. He saw the engagement as an exile, an insult, proof that he had been completely abandoned, and so he took his anger out on the girl.
The picture grew even darker when he remembered the slaves. The protagonist's plotline was centered on searching for a childhood friend kidnapped by slavers. The "book version" of Alex had turned a blind eye to the slave caravans passing through his lands, even taking a percentage of the profits. The Hero eventually met Alex's fiancée in the city, and over time, they became friends. It was from her that the Hero learned about the Baron's dark dealings.
To a Hero who sees the face of his lost friend in his dreams every night, such a "Baron" isn't a person. He's a target.
"So, I have two years not only to change my fate but to choose an entirely different path. I have no intention of repeating Alex's mistakes. In two years, I must become stronger. If I'm ever forced to fight for my life, I have to be capable of doing so."
Alex finally let go of the edge of the blanket, though he hadn't noticed how tightly he'd been gripping it. He slowly squared his shoulders. There was no greed for power or desire to torment the weak in his gaze. Only determination. He didn't plan on being a villain. Villainy was a waste of resources. Why humiliate a fiancée when she could be an ally? And the status of a Baron offered countless possibilities.
Alex remembered his student days. Although he hadn't finished his degree due to illness, the endless hours over blueprints had left their mark. That incomparable satisfaction when lines on paper brought a mechanism to life... He was a mechanical engineer to his core. To him, the world consisted of nodes, gears, resistance of materials, and energy flows.
"A barony, huh..." Alex murmured. "It will be both an opportunity and a challenge. Let's see what I can 'tinker' with over there."
He was already imagining giving people jobs at a real production plant, building something new for this world, watching his blueprints take shape. The thought of creating something real gave him a sense of euphoria. He clenched his fingers, imagining holding a pencil over a clean sheet of paper. And at that very moment, at the peak of his internal triumph, a tiny but brilliant blue spark flashed between his index finger and the blanket. It snapped through the semi-darkness of the room.
Alex froze, staring at the spot where the discharge had just flickered. His eyes lit up.
"So, lightning," he whispered.
In the novel, Alex's specific abilities were never explained. But now, it was clear.
"Well, that saved me a lot of time figuring out my affinity," he said, his voice sounding cheerful.
He knew that in this world, almost everyone had a predisposition for magic, even if they didn't realize it. A hidden potential slept within many. A person with a fire affinity might only be able to warm things with a touch instead of throwing fireballs. Those with an earth affinity might unconsciously sense soil quality but couldn't lift boulders. Around "air-types," a light breeze might occasionally stir. This was considered the norm.
As Alex gathered his thoughts, morning arrived. He realized he was starving.
"Um, is anyone there? Could you bring some breakfast?"
A few seconds later, a maid burst into the room, her eyes filled with anxiety.
"Young Master, you're awake! I'll go get the healer right away!" she cried out and bolted from the room as quickly as she had entered.
Alex stared after her, bewildered.
"I just wanted to eat," he sighed.
A few minutes later, the same old man who had examined Alex before entered. Now the boy recognized him. This was Olaf—he had worked at the castle since Amelia's death. The Duke likely didn't want a repeat of the tragedy caused by neglect and had hired a professional.
"Young Master, how are you feeling?" the old man asked, examining Alex.
"A bit better, Olaf."
"So, your memory has returned?"
"Well... more or less."
"Good, good. His Grace will be pleased," the healer said, relief evident in his voice. "We were starting to worry when you fell back asleep for two days."
"I haven't been awake for two days?"
"Yes. His Grace was already planning to summon a healer from the capital again. I think he will feel relieved to know you've come to your senses."
Relieved, huh... Remembering their relationship from his memories, Alex couldn't be sure what emotions his father actually felt.
"So, what now, Olaf?"
"Now? Since you've recovered your memory, we will focus on your physical strengthening."
Alex didn't get to eat his breakfast for quite a while that morning.