章 1: The Grand Duke Receives an Invitation
"Your Excellency, a letter from the Capital has arrived."
I lifted my head from the stack of documents I was currently engaged in, my eyes narrowing slightly at the interruption. A polite smile, one I had perfected over the years, automatically surfaced—a reflex born of necessity rather than genuine warmth. With an internal sigh, I accepted the letter from the old butler's outstretched hands, his ever-unwavering expression betraying nothing.
I already had an inkling about this particular missive. Most correspondence addressed to me was handled by the butler himself, with only a select few deemed significant enough to require my personal attention. And indeed, my suspicions were correct. The seal bore the imperial crest, its intricate design embossed in gold—an ostentatious display of authority that was, quite frankly, unnecessary.
The letter was a formal invitation from the Emperor himself, requesting my presence at the official proclamation of the Crown Prince. It also extended to the grand festivities commemorating the founding anniversary of the Yarina Empire.
I dismissed the butler with a nod, allowing my gaze to linger on the letter. The imperial palace certainly had a penchant for dramatics.
If you are wondering what could warrant such a personal invitation from the Emperor, then you must first understand a few crucial aspects of this empire.
The Yarina Empire is an old and powerful nation, one that has withstood the test of time for more than a century. Its foundation is built upon a so-called principle of peace and acceptance, priding itself on embracing all its citizens, regardless of their origins. But let me be clear—when they speak of acceptance, they do not mean moral virtue. Rather, they mean tolerance of the unnatural, the extraordinary.
Yarina is home to a diverse array of people: The Children of Mana, more commonly known as magicians; the warriors who wield aura as their weapon; and even those of non-human descent, be they beastkin, elves, or other species that walk among us. This world thrives on its fantastical nature, shaped by the many forces that exist within it.
And yet, despite this supposed inclusivity, I have always believed it to be a farce. There is a vast difference between acceptance and tolerance. To tolerate something does not mean one embraces it. It merely means one endures it. And endurance can wane, given the right circumstances.
But I digress.
To the east of Yarina lies a formidable land, one shrouded in perilous terrain—Sonomi. It is vast, untamed, and deemed unconquerable by the empire. During its founding, many sought to claim it, but none could tame its deadly landscapes. That was because Sonomi was already ruled by a family whose roots ran deeper than Yarina itself.
The Konstantin family.
With unparalleled strength and influence, my ancestors made it clear that Sonomi was not land to be taken. Rather than waging a war they would inevitably lose; the Empire chose a different approach—one of diplomacy. An allegiance was forged, an agreement struck: Sonomi would become a part of the Empire in name, and the Konstantin family would be granted the rank of Grand Dukes, an unrivaled title second only to the royal family. In return, the Empire swore an unbreakable oath—no ruler of Yarina would ever interfere in the affairs of the East.
And so, the Konstantin family became the sole holders of the Grand Duke title, governing Sonomi with absolute autonomy. A kingdom within a kingdom, so to speak.
And I, Skandar Aleksandr Konstantin, am its current ruler. The Grand Duke of the East.
"How troublesome." I muttered, tapping the elaborate, scented invitation against my desk.
I have never liked the capital. Nor do I enjoy the social pleasantries that come with it. Yet, duty calls, and obligations such as these are ones I cannot so easily ignore.
My parents, in all their carefree wisdom, had left the burdens of this title upon my shoulders at the tender age of eighteen. Responsibility was thrust upon me long before I had the chance to understand what it meant to be free.
But, as my mother so kindly ensured, my upbringing left no room for failure.
Ah, my wonderful mother. A woman of elegance and ruthless discipline. Her lessons were carved into my very being, engraved upon my soul as if they were law. If I were to recount every grueling hour spent under her tutelage, it would be enough to reduce even the bravest of men to tears. Some traumas, however, are best left buried.
The result? Even if I wished to abandon propriety, my body refused to comply. My etiquette had been molded to perfection; my expressions trained to exude nothing but grace.
Take the incident earlier, for example. As much as I wished to scowl, my face instinctively arranged itself into a cordial expression. It was a dreadful affliction, truly. No matter how impolite I tried to be, the world perceived me as nothing short of charming.
How infuriating.
Every social season is a trial of endurance. A battlefield where perfume is weaponized to the point of suffocation, and noblewomen paint their faces thick enough to redefine their very identity.
If only they were at least half as attractive as I am—what a pity that they are not.
Of course, the noblemen are no less insufferable.
Some boast of wealth, yet their combined fortunes could not even amount to a fraction of mine. Others are muscle-headed fools, constantly seeking duels as if that is all their existence revolves around. And then there are the mages, the ones who sneer down at those without magic, basking in their self-proclaimed superiority.
A pity, truly. If their abilities were as impressive as they claim, then why is my territory—Sonomi—the leading manufacturer of magical devices, and not their so-called prestigious magic towers?
I can already predict the trials that await me at these upcoming events.
But perhaps my distaste for all this is more than just personal preference. Perhaps it is because of the secret that runs in my family's bloodline.
The Konstantin men inherit something unique.
The memories of a past life.
Without fail, on the eve of our seventh birthday, those memories awaken, granting us knowledge of a life before this one. No one knows how this gift came to be, but it has shaped the legacy of our house for generations. It has ensured our survival, fortified our power, and forged a unity among our kin that is unmatched.
And it has made us indifferent to the struggles of succession. The Konstantin heirs do not squabble for power. Quite the opposite, in fact. None of us wish for the burden of ruling. So, the process is simple—those who lose the battle for succession are the ones who must govern.
In my case, there was no battle to fight. As the sole heir of my generation, my fate had been sealed the moment my past memories surfaced.
My father, the hopeless romantic, had no intention of putting my mother through another childbirth. Thus, I remained an only child.
But my past life was different. Vastly different.
I once lived in a world called Earth—a place devoid of magic, aura, or supernatural forces. Yet, its science and technology far surpassed anything this world has to offer.
I was an archaeologist and a history professor, well-respected in my field. But beyond my scholarly pursuits, I had another peculiar interest.
Web novels. Comics. Stories of villains and anti-heroes.
I indulged in them with great fascination, drawn to the complexity of characters who defied the norms of morality. And now, in this new life, I had the chance to become what I once admired.
I had lived a respectable, predictable life before. Now, I had the power to shape my own narrative.
My gaze returned to the letter, the gold lettering glistening under the light.
The coronation of the Crown Prince. The Empire's Founding Anniversary.
A grand occasion. A perfect stage.
A villain would never let such an opportunity go to waste.
Yes, this is the perfect time to make my debut.
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