Chapter 17: Shadows Between the Lines

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting golden-orange hues across the grand towers of Ardent Academy. The announcement board stood tall in the courtyard like a judge about to pass sentence, its crystalline panels flickering as results were prepared behind the scenes.

Vincent leaned silently against the cold marble column near the edge of the square, arms crossed, watching students gather and chatter in anticipation. Laughter, nerves, and cocky declarations blended together—a storm of personalities clashing beneath polite uniforms and bloodline pride.

But Vincent's thoughts were elsewhere.

He wasn't thinking about his ranking.

He was thinking about Isabel Stroud.

"She could've turned my body inside out with a thought."

And yet she laughed.

Vincent had read about her in the novel. A woman unpredictable in every sense—famed not just for her psychic strength, but her obsession with willpower. She believed power only meant something when backed by conviction. It was why she respected lunatics over rule-followers.

It was why he knew exactly what to do when he entered that room.

And it worked.

"That woman could have crushed me… but she didn't."

Still, he wasn't foolish enough to think it meant safety.

He was far from safe. He had changed too much. The moment he summoned that pistol and spoke the Valenciari motto, the story he once read was no longer the same.

This was not Sandro Ricci's tale anymore.

This was his.

And the deeper he walked into Ardent Academy, the more he would have to change what fate had written.

I need to start laying the groundwork…

Sandro Ricci—the original protagonist—wasn't someone he could ignore. That kid would become a monster. And monsters didn't wait to be hunted—they devoured first.

"Hey."

Clara's voice pulled him from his thoughts again.

She approached with a can of soda and a bag of spicy chips, offering both like a peace treaty.

"You looked like you were either plotting a murder or solving the meaning of life. Want one?" she said, handing him the can.

Vincent took it without comment.

Clara flopped down on the stone bench beside him, sighing as she popped her soda open. "This place is insane already. You think they're gonna rank us publicly?"

"Probably," Vincent said. "Ardent's all about pressure."

Clara made a face. "I don't even know what I'm hoping for. I mean, being strong is great—but if I get put in a dorm with maniacs like Elliot Grave or the Tempest guy, I might just dig a hole and live underground."

Vincent allowed a slight smirk. "You're mafia. Isn't surviving maniacs part of the job?"

Clara chuckled. "Touché."

A few more students gathered by the crystal board, whispers rising as the screen flickered to life.

Vincent didn't move yet.

He could feel it.

Everything was about to shift again.

But for now, the sun kept setting, Clara kept talking about how her revolver wouldn't fit into the academy locker, and the world still thought of him as just another heir in a sea of bloodline monsters.

Let them keep thinking that.

For now.

.

..

...

Vincent stood at the edge of it all, hands in his coat pockets, face unreadable.

Clara nudged him with her elbow. "Well? You nervous?"

He didn't answer.

A mechanical hum filled the air. Then—click. The board shimmered and lit up. Names. Ranks. Results. One by one, the students leaned in, reading, reacting—some gasped, others groaned. A few cheered.

Then…

A pause fell.

Near the very top of the rankings list—above nobles, royalty, and bloodline elites—flashed a single name in glowing gold.

Vincent Valenciari — Bloodline Purity: SSS | Bloodline Master Potential: SSS

The crowd hushed.

Clara blinked, her brain clearly short-circuiting. "Wait. What—what did that just say?"

Vincent didn't flinch. He simply glanced at the board, then turned to walk away.

Clara stood frozen, her mouth slightly open. "Valenciari?"

She caught up to him, her tone flipping between confusion and awe. "As in the Valenciari? The Royal Mafia Line? The family that's practically a myth?"

He gave her a brief look, then kept walking.

Clara stared, then let out a long exhale. "You've gotta be kidding me…"

Now it made sense. The aura. The shot during the evaluation. The confidence that came with no explanation.

She jogged up again. "You—you could've told me."

"I didn't," Vincent said, "because it didn't matter."

"To you, maybe!" she exclaimed. "To the rest of the underworld, that name's like thunder."

He didn't respond. Not directly.

Instead, his eyes were distant, thoughtful. Not about her. Not even about the rankings.

But about what came next.

> "I changed the narrative."

> "Sandro Ricci doesn't get the SSS rank anymore."

> "He won't be the strongest heir on record. I am."

Vincent could feel it already—the butterfly effect of his presence was spiraling into something irreversible.

He was changing the bones of the novel.

And now, everyone at Ardent Academy knew the name Valenciari.

Clara exhaled beside him, watching as her earlier, cheerful ignorance vanished. "You… really don't play by anyone else's rules, huh?"

Vincent smirked faintly. "Never did."

They stood in silence for a moment. The courtyard around them was still murmuring with reactions, hushed whispers about the SSS-ranked mafia heir who'd emerged from the shadows.

But Vincent was already thinking further.

About the hidden powers yet to awaken in him.

About the characters who would begin shifting from the story he once read.

And about the enemies that were now watching him… too early.

---

TO BE CONTINUED...