Paradise Lost

After about a 30-minute walk through the nobility district—dodging more than a few disdainful glances at my decidedly un-noble attire—I finally arrived at my destination. The estate of my benefactor, Lord Arthur.

It was impossible not to notice how the surrounding houses seemed embarrassed to be in its presence. The estate itself had a high, imposing metal fence, a vast stretch of lush green land, a sprawling driveway, and several armed guards keeping a tight patrol. Whoever lived here clearly had more than a little power—or enough wealth to make power irrelevant.

As I approached the gate, I was met by the cold, calculating gaze of a man in military uniform, his patch depicting a lion surrounded by nine thin knives. A rifle was slung over his back, adding to the general air of "Don't mess with me."

"Halt. This is Lord Arthur's personal residence. No one enters without proper certification."

He sized me up like I was an infestation in his pristine neighborhood, disgust practically dripping from his eyes before he continued.

"If you don't have it, leave. Now. Or face severe consequences."

I didn't blink. Instead, I calmly pulled a small golden coin from my trench coat pocket, attached to a silver chain.

Before he could make any assumptions that I was about to offer a bribe, I let him catch a good look at the insignia on the coin. It was identical to the one on his patch.

His eyes widened. He froze for a moment before quickly bowing his head, hand over his chest. The classic noble greeting, almost pitiful.

"I'm sorry, sir. If I may inquire—what is your name? Surely someone of your status should be on our list."

I let out a long sigh, looking down at him as I was trying to suppress a chuckle. He was still bent over like a subservient dog, so I felt kind of bad for him, but it was funny nonetheless. I straightened up, doing my best to look like I owned the place.

"Stand up, soldier. It's fine. I get it—things are tense right now. No hard feelings. Name's Lucian. No last name yet, though. Still working on it."

The realization hit him harder than a charging bull, and he quickly snapped upright, saluting with perfect precision.

"Sir Lucian! It's an honor. You're, of course, allowed in. One moment, please..."

I glanced at him, narrowing my eyes to add some gravitas. Seemed I had a chance to put my acting skills to the test, hopefully they weren't sloppy after a year.

"Soldier, here's a tip for the future: no matter who you're dealing with—General or the Pope himself—never bow while on guard. Never. And in the name of the Emperor, keep your eyes on the person you're interrogating."

He hesitated, clearly unsure whether to stand at attention or collapse in shame. But he managed to hold his ground, still saluting.

"Yes, sir!"

I gave him a slow nod, suppressing a smirk. "Good. I'll make sure your superiors know you've got some fight in you. Just don't forget this next time. I'm sure they wouldn't go as easy on you."

Did I just lecture a soldier twice my size? What am I, the bad cop now? At least I know my acting skills aren't rusty. Let's hope I don't have to do that again. I really hate playing this part.

And yet I still did it.

I ignored the fact that I had just called an adult "kid," stretched my collar for some much-needed air, and stepped through the now-open gate, giving him one last look with a raised eyebrow.

"You're his personal guard, right?"

"Yes, sir. That's correct."

"Right. Thanks, soldier. At ease."

With a ridiculously exaggerated salute, I sighed inwardly as I walked towards the mansion, doing my best to not scowl at the place. Too many nobles, too many eyes.

I'm starting to really regret showing up here. I didn't even know that idiot had that kind of authority.

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.

.

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Reaching my destination inside the mansion, Sabian, having guided me, knocks on the door to announce our presence.

"Sir, Lucien has arrived."

With barely concealed disgust in his voice, Sabian receives a response a few moments later.

"Thank you, Sabian. Let him in."

As the door opens, I'm greeted by the face of a well-featured blonde man with aquamarine eyes, probably in his late twenties. He sits comfortably in his chair, and from his broad shoulders, it's clear he's well-toned. His striking appearance, combined with his status, would undoubtedly make him quite popular with the noble ladies.

He was dressed in Victorian-inspired clothing, a large black-grey overcoat draped over his frame, its sleeves hanging lifelessly by his sides as his hands continued to write, all while his gaze remained fixed on me.

It was enough to make me feel a bit self-conscious. I don't look bad, but a blade of grass standing next to a sunflower is always going to get outshone.

Swallowing my pride, I greet him with a simple nod, waiting for the door to fully close behind me.

He waits patiently before speaking.

"Speak freely now. I've placed a barrier around the vicinity so no one can hear us."

With a huge sigh of relief, I walk over to a couch in the corner of the room and lie down, resting my head on the armrest, exhaustion written all over my face.

"I'll tell you, Arthur, I'm no extrovert. I've been around more people today than I have in the past two years combined."

Rubbing my eyes with my fingers, I continue.

"Just from today, I'm already feeling drained."

After saying that, I look directly into his aquamarine eyes with a hint of annoyance in my voice.

"And yet you expect me—of all people—to attend the event tonight? I'll try, but I can't promise much."

Sinking deeper into the couch, I add on.

"Oh, and congrats on the promotion. Should be fun to see the reactions from all your noble colleagues."

Arthur raises an eyebrow in response to my congratulations.

"How'd you know that? It was supposed to be a surprise from the Regent himself."

Whoops.

"It was pretty easy to figure out, actually. All the servants running around, your uptight lapdog seemed more irked than usual, and you've obviously made more of an effort with your hair and clothes than you usually do. I merely made an assumption—and you confirmed it."

Arthur's surprised expression shifts into a pleased smile.

"It's good to see you've kept your sharp mind. You'll need it later tonight. I trust your studies have gone well?"

Closing my eyes, I respond.

"Of course. I've learned a lot in the past two years."

Better to say I've remembered a lot in these last two years, but there are still plenty of gaps.

I recall my earlier meeting with the young man named Adrian and can't help but frown internally. That feeling of almost remembering something has plagued me for the last couple years and was part of the reason I secluded myself recently.

I can't make the same mistake again...

"Can you show me your divine energy? As preparation for tonight's ceremony, I trust you've learned to at least manifest it."

Seeing me space out, Arthur glares at me before I finally humor a response.

"There's a limit to what you can learn just from reading, but sure."

Sitting up lazily, I start to concentrate. Slowly, a deep black miasma—matching the shade of my hair—begins to flow from my hand, dispersing into the air around me, almost suffocating the room's oxygen.

Arthur suppressed the shock on his face, then snapped his fingers. The windows fly open, and with a flash of golden divine energy, he quickly pushes the black smoke outside to prevent suffocation.

I watch the spectacle with a slight sense of amusement and pride reflected on my face.

"Impressed?"

"I'd be lying if I didn't say I was a little surprised. The fact that your the same as me, there's only 3 other Nobles in this city that don't need a medium to control magic... This is going to cause quite the commotion tonight."

Arthur takes a deep breath and leans back more comfortably into his chair, his expression troubled.

"That is, if you were to show such a color, you know what would happen right? Just try not to do that tonight. I don't want either of our nights ruined. After all, we're both getting a promotion, aren't we?"

His comment reminds me of the night's significance again.

Divinity is extremely rare—so rare that only a handful of people in this city can use divine energy, much less use it for Arcana. Since the discovery of sorcery during the War of Redemption, which nearly annihilated all sentient life, all people capable of divinity have been granted considerable status and prestige, no matter where they reside, and those abilities were passed through bloodline.

That's why it's so rare for arcane users to come from anywhere other than noble lineages.

Which makes me such an anomaly, not to mention if it was known that I possess black mana...

I groan internally at the thought of all the attention I'm bound to receive in the future. But I guess it's inevitable, considering the people I've become involved with. Not to mention, it will help when I eventually arrive to the capital.

This timeline needs to stay as close as possible to the original story. Unpredictability will get me killed—and the tribulations of later chapters are a whole other matter.

This story is no joke, there's just too many death routes to go down. I need to stay alive, no matter the cost.

Even though I still only remember vague concepts like the academy and some events surrounding it, my understanding of this world has increased tenfold after reading all the material.

It seems that I only remember things when there's a sufficient stimulus, like someone's face or an object that triggers memories.

Seriously, at this point, there has to be some external influence affecting my memory. It can't be dementia. Otherwise, I wouldn't have such clear memories of Earth, yet I don't remember a single thing about myself, or my past.

As that thought crosses my mind, I wonder if it truly is outside influence causing my fragmented memory—or just my brain deteriorating.

Arcane energy exposure does have extreme effects on the brain, especially for those proficient in it.

I glance over at the man across the room, smoking a pipe with a serene expression on his face—someone who also possesses arcane energy and is proficient in it.

It just so happens that I remember you quite well. Which is why it was imperative I made a connection sooner rather than later.

I recall the life of the man before me, and my gaze turns grim as I look at the ceiling. Arcana is known to directly affect the brain. While it can improve many things, like comprehension, intelligence, and temperance, it deteriorates mental stability the longer a person uses it.

This applies to the man in front of me, too, who has much more to hide than he lets on.

Well, it doesn't matter. As long as our interests align, we can both make good use of each other. And I'm sure he feels the same way.

Suddenly, Arthur stands up, takes one last puff from his pipe, and sets it down on the table.

"I think it's about time you get ready. We need to leave for the Regent's manor soon. It's getting dark."

I glance outside and notice the sun is beginning to set. Realizing the time, I quickly get up to prepare myself for the suit they're inevitably going to force on me. And then, suddenly, the name of the novel I read before—this world seems to resemble it so much—comes back to me.

That's right... now I remember. It was a dark fantasy, wasn't it?

Paradise Lost.