The sharp ringing tore through the silence of the room.
Kyle jerked awake, his breath ragged, fingers digging into the sheets as if they could anchor him to reality.
His skin was slick with cold sweat. His heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat.
That nightmare again.
The same suffocating darkness. The same faceless figure reaching for him.
He sat up slowly, rubbing his face with both hands, trying to scrub away the lingering dread.
What was that dream. It felt like a warning. A memory. Something clawing at the edges of his mind, refusing to let go.
The alarm rune on his bedside table pulsed with blue light. Its shrill tone cutting through his thoughts. He reached over and smacked it silent.
He exhaled, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. The floor was cold under his bare feet.
The room was quiet. Too quiet.
Morning light filtered through the curtains, painting pale stripes across the wooden floor. His uniform was slung over the chair where he’d tossed it last night.
His boots sat haphazardly by the door.
He walked to the washroom, each step heavy, like his body was still half-trapped in that nightmare.
The sink faucet creaked as he turned it, icy water rushing out. He splashed it over his face, once, twice, letting the cold shock his nerves back into focus.
When he looked up. His reflection stared back at him,
"Who am I even looking at?"
The name still felt foreign.
He stared at his reflection. The white hair, the blue eyes. The face that wasn’t his. A stolen identity. A second chance he never asked for.
His hands gripped the sink until his knuckles turned bone-white.
Everything was changing too fast.
He’d known how things would end. He read the story. He knew the plot.
The Demon War. The heroes. The losses.
The ending, where no one truly won.
Everything was shifting. Choices were different. People acted in ways they weren’t supposed to.
The future was no longer something he could count on.
And that scared him more than anything.
If he couldn’t see what came next. If the rules had changed...
Then he had only one path left.
Stronger than fate. Strong enough to survive. Strong enough to protect the people he cared about.
His reflection stared back at him, eyes harder now.
He needed to get his hands on "that" before anyone else.
The kitchen smelled like freshly brewed coffee and the faint.
Sunlight streamed through the window. Casting warm streaks across the wooden table where Aurelia sat her fingers scrolling through the glowing mana tab in front of her.
The soft hum of the device mixed with the quiet clinking of porcelain as Kyle moved around the kitchen, preparing their drinks.
He walked over. Setting a black coffee in front of her before taking the seat across the table.
His own chocolate latte in hand.
The steam curled lazily from the cup as he took a slow sip, savoring the sweetness.
His eyes wandered, landing on the stack of letters neatly placed beside Aurelia’s elbow.
Each envelope was sealed with wax... different colors, different crests.
Kyle frowned, swallowing another sip of his drink.
"What’s all this?" he asked, gesturing toward the pile with his free hand.
Aurelia didn’t look up from her mana tab. "Letters," she said simply.
"Yeah, I can see that." He reached over, flipping one of them with his finger. The wax seal was deep red, stamped with a lion’s head.
"Looks fancy. Official business?"
"Marriage proposals."
Kyle took another sip, nodding absently.
"Huh. So, you like any of them?"
Aurelia’s fingers paused on the screen. Then, with deliberate slowness, she lifted her gaze to meet his.
"They’re not for me."
He blinked. "Then who—"
Kyle’s lips were still pressed to the rim of his cup. He stayed like that for a solid second, processing.
Latte shot straight into his windpipe.
He jerked forward, coughing violently, liquid dripping down his chin as he wheezed. His face burned, eyes watering as he slammed the cup down, thumping his chest with his fist.
Aurelia watched, unimpressed.
"W-what do you mean for me?!" he choked out, voice ragged.
She sighed, setting her mana tab aside.
"Exactly what I said. Noble families are offering their daughters’ hands in marriage. To you."
Kyle stared at her like she’d just announced the sky was green.
Aurelia arched a brow.
"You’re my brother. You’re strong. You’re not an eyesore—most of the time. And after you became Silver grade 2 in your first semester, half the noble circles are convinced you’re some kind of rising prodigy."
She leaned back, crossing her arms.
"So, congratulations. You’re now a desirable candidate."
Kyle’s expression twisted between horror and disbelief.
He grabbed one of the letters, tearing it open with more force than necessary.
His eyes scanned the contents.
Flowery language, excessive compliments, a very detailed description of Lady Whoever’s "exquisite virtues."
He dropped it like it burned him.
Aurelia sipped her coffee. "No."
"What do you mean no?"
"You can’t just ignore noble proposals. It’s insulting."
"Then you reject them!"
"I could," she mused, tapping her fingers against her cup. "But I won’t."
Kyle gaped at her. "Why the hell not?!"
Aurelia’s lips twitched. Just slightly.
"Because," she said, voice smooth as silk, "you’re going to meet them. And reject them politely."
Kyle’s soul left his body.
Aurelia finally let the smirk break through.
"You heard me. You’ll attend a few meetings, exchange pleasantries, then let them down gently. Like a proper noble."
Kyle’s eye twitched. "No. Absolutely not. I’m not, I’m not doing that."
"You don’t have a choice."
"I always have a choice!"
Kyle groaned, dragging his hands down his face. "This is torture."
Aurelia hummed, picking up her mana tab again. "Think of it as... networking."
He shot her a glare. "You’re enjoying this."
Because the truth was, Aurelia could have rejected the proposals herself. Easily.
A few polite letters, some diplomatic wording, and the matter would have been settled without Kyle ever needing to know.
But where was the fun in that? ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ novel(ꜰ)ire.net
She remembered the hours she’d wasted as a teenager, forced to sit through tea parties and dinners with noble sons. The stiff conversations, the fake smiles.
The sheer agony of pretending to care about someone’s opinion on the latest mana crystal fashions.
Now it was Kyle’s turn.
She hid her grin behind another sip of coffee.
Kyle, meanwhile, looked like a man sentenced to execution. He slumped in his chair, glaring at the letters like they’d personally betrayed him.
"...How many are there?"
He made a sound like a dying animal.
Aurelia finally took pity on him. Just a little.
"It won’t be that bad. Most of them will lose interest after the first meeting."
Kyle groaned. "And if they don’t?"
"Then you’ll have to keep rejecting them until they do."
He dropped his forehead onto the table with a thud.
Aurelia reached over, patting his head. "Cheer up. Who knows? Maybe you’ll actually like one of them."
Kyle lifted his head just enough to glare.