The headmaster's office sat at the apex of the north tower, high above the spires of the Imperial Academy, like a judge's throne overseeing the sins of the elite. Darkwood walls lined with ancient grimoires and monster skulls gave it the feeling of a tomb more than an office.
The headmaster himself, Gareth Ismir, was as stern and immovable as a fortress. A scar split his upper lip, giving the illusion that he was always sneering.
"You both disgust me," he said flatly.
Lucas stood tall and defiant, though his jaw was clenched. Kain slouched in his seat, arms crossed, blood dried on his cheek from Lucas' punch.
"Brawling on the outer training field. During daytime hours. In front of other students. And you, Norigusho, threatening a girl who did nothing but pass by you?"
Kain said nothing. His tongue felt like a foreign object in his mouth. He couldn't focus. Everything felt wrong, like he was wearing someone else's skin. Because he was.
"You'll both be punished," Gareth continued.
"Lucas Orlenhart: three-day suspension. You'll reflect on your actions and your choice of fists over restraint."
Lucas bit back a retort. "Understood, Headmaster."
"And you, Kain Norigusho."
A pause. Then a disgusted shake of the head.
"One week. If I had my way, it'd be a permanent expulsion. But I've been reminded of your family's standing."
Kain blinked.
Family?
Right. The Norigusho Clan. One of the great houses of the empire. Landowners, magi, military generals. Untouchable, unreachable. He had written the name—woven it into the nobility of his world—but now he was that name. Sort of.
No… not really.
Not fully.
Not legitimately.
Outside the Gates
The air outside was thin and biting. White petals from the sky-high frost trees drifted in lazy spirals to the stone paths below. The Imperial Academy stood like a fortress behind him—gleaming towers of marble and steelwood, filled with young prodigies and noble bloodlines.
And him.
He was halfway down the front path when he heard footsteps behind him. Sharp, impatient.
He turned.
The slap came without warning. A sharp crack that stung his cheek more than Lucas' punch.
"You disgusting little rat," said a cold, familiar voice. "I told Father you'd be nothing but a shame to the family ."
Kain's head snapped to the side. His vision blurred, not from pain, but from the sheer force of memory.
She stood before him.
Irelia Norigusho.
Flawless silver hair. Slate-gray eyes. The second-ranked battle mage in the academy, and a prodigy of the Norigusho main line.
His half-sister.
"You should never have been allowed into the Academy," she said, voice trembling with fury, but not passion. No, this wasn't rage. It was resentment baked into bone.
"I'm here by right," Kain muttered. "By my family name—"
"You have no name," she snapped. "You're a bastard. Born of some commoner scullery whore and the great Lord Albrecht in a moment of weakness. You think you're one of us because he acknowledged you in a council meeting? You're nothing, Kain."
He stared at her. The pain in his face, in his ribs, in his soul—it all blurred under the weight of her words.
But somewhere, behind the pain, he remembered.
Kain Norigusho.
Seventh son of Lord Albrecht Norigusho.
Born from a liaison with a common servant girl.
Tolerated, barely. Raised in the shadow of towering half-siblings, each bred and bathed in privilege.
He was given a name, a house, but not a home.
In the original story, he was arrogant. He made up for his bastard blood with cruelty, with excessive pride, and with a desperate hunger for recognition. He bullied, threatened, postured like a predator—but deep down, he was prey. A dog snarling at lions, hoping his bark would pass for a roar.
Now I was him.
"Go home, Kain," Irelia hissed, brushing past him. "And pray the next disgrace you bring doesn't cost us more than just our name."
Norigusho Outer Estate
The estate was less a house and more a monument to opulence. Pillars carved from sea-crystal. Gardens tended by mages that bloomed year-round. Servants who bowed so low their foreheads grazed the polished floors.
He walked through the front gates, ignored by the guards, bypassed by the waiting carriages and ceremonial guards.
He didn't belong. Even here, in what was supposed to be his home.
His room was in the west annex. Away from the main hall. A guest wing, technically. Ornate, yes—but not part of the house. Not really.
He closed the door behind him and leaned against it. The walls were too white. Too clean.
He turned toward the mirror.
Kain stared back.
His reflection was aristocratic—sharp jaw, violet eyes, shoulder-length black hair.
Beautiful. Noble.
But behind the beauty, behind the bloodline—there was rot.
And now that rot was him.
He walked toward the desk, where a schedule had been neatly laid out.
Magical Theory — Canceled.
Combat Practicum — Suspended.
Social Conduct Seminar — Mandatory, upon return.
His fingers curled into fists. He wanted to punch something, scream, tear the walls down.
He didn't deserve this. Not in his world. Not in theirs.
He looked out the window.
Beyond the trees, the spires of the Academy loomed. Somewhere in there, Lucas would be sharpening a blade or training with some instructor. Probably feeling smug, heroic, justified.
And Kain? He was the villain. The punching bag. The bastard.
But something twisted in his chest.
If he knew the world—and he did—then he knew what came next.
Kain Norigusho dies in chapter 42.
A back-alley assassination by a minor villain.
Forgotten, unmourned.
Unless…
Unless he rewrote the script.
He smirked, a bitter thing full of cracks.
"Alright then," he whispered. "Let's see how far a bastard villain can go."