Embers of Change

Three days had passed since Evan had thoroughly beaten me, and here I was again, sitting in the training hall, watching Clara practice.

My muscles ached from the relentless strength training I'd forced upon myself, but strangely my body seemed to recover faster than I expected. Maybe I really was just meant to be a punching bag, I sighed, as I leaned back against the cool stone wall, the rough texture pressing into my skin.

I didn't have any grand dreams of becoming a hulking warrior. No, my sudden dedication to physical training was more of an escape—a way to channel the stress that had been eating at me ever since I'd transmigrated into this body. Every push-up, every drop of sweat, felt like a tiny rebellion against the cruel hand fate had dealt me. Evan's beating had made one thing painfully clear: I was weak. Pathetically, laughably weak.

The original Nathan had a dedicated personal trainer when he was younger, but that bastard had squandered every opportunity. Instead of training, he'd drowned himself in alcohol, wasted his money and time at brothels, and indulged in every vice imaginable. Unsurprisingly, the Duchess had canceled his training and sent the trainer back to the academy. And now, thanks to Nathan's stellar reputation, no one in their right mind would take me on as a student.

I exhaled sharply, rubbing my temples. "Why the hell am I the one paying for that idiot's sins?" I muttered under my breath.

If I had transmigrated into Nathan's body when he was a child, I could have atleast started fresh. But no, the universe had dropped me into his life when he was a third-rate villain with a horde of enemies and no redeeming qualities. I knew dwelling on it was pointless, but I couldn't help it. The more I struggled, the more my anger simmered against him. If only he had done one decent thing, one act of kindness to redeem himself... but no, my memories of him were tainted by his cruelty and neglect.

'Haaa...' I sighed, dragging my fingers through my hair. I couldn't even pass a day without thinking about that bastard.

My days here blurred into a monotonous cycle. No progress on anything important.

Evan had started sticking close to me, always watching, always skeptical after I'd met Daisy in the dining hall. "Don't think I will trust you just because you apologized to Daisy, bastard," he'd said, arms crossed like some self-righteous knight. His eyes narrowed, and I could almost feel the weight of his distrust pressing down on me. "I know you're up to something big, but I'll never let your plans succeed."

Meanwhile, I stopped going to the dining hall entirely—mostly because Rose had started bringing my meals to my room. Previously, that job had been Clara's, but I'd told her to stop all maid activities. Rose was a sweet and adorable girl, with a youthful energy that suited her age. She had a charmingly childish innocence about her, and over the past few days, she'd become the only person I genuinely looked forward to talking to. Her cheerful chatter and bright smile were a small but welcome reprieve from the suffocating atmosphere of the estate.

Clara, on the other hand, had been training relentlessly. And she was improving at a terrifying pace. If my guess was right, she'd create her first mana cycle in a week—making her one of the fastest in recorded history.

As for Selene? No response from her yet. I was waiting for it with patience. The Duchess had returned to the estate, and with her presence looming over everything, my chances of getting in touch with Selene were slim to none.

I sighed. The sun was beginning to set, casting a dim golden glow across the training hall. My gaze flickered toward Clara, who had been at it all day. Her beautiful face remained an enigma—calm, poised, unreadable. Yet something was different. Subtle. Wrong.

A prickling sensation crept up my spine. The air around her wasn't just still; it was heavy, charged, as if the very space she occupied had become something other. The hall, once cool and crisp, felt suffocating, the temperature rising in slow, unbearable waves. My throat went dry.

Then I saw it.

A shimmer. No—a distortion, warping the air around her like heat radiating off sun-scorched stone. The fine hairs on my arms stood on end.

Mana.

A slow, spiraling glow coiled from her fingertips, shifting and twisting unnaturally. The heat became oppressive, pressing against my lungs.

Something was building. Something dangerous.

My stomach twisted. A sharp, instinctive dread clawed at my mind.

"Wait, wait, wait—"

The world flashed orange.

A roar split the silence.

Flames erupted around her.

The fire wasn't normal—it pulsed and coiled unnaturally, licking at her skin, feeding on the raw power that had suddenly surged to life. Her dress was engulfed in flames, the fire dancing across the fabric with a malevolent intensity. My skin prickled from heat, and the smell of burnt fabric filled the air.

"Clara!" No response.

Her eyes were vacant, locked in a trance as the inferno swirled around her like a living entity.

'Shit.'

I lunged toward her, but the searing heat slapped me back, my hands burning like branding irons. I forced myself forward, gritting my teeth against the agony, the stench of charred flesh filling my nostrils, my vision blurring from the inferno's intensity. But I refused to back down now – not when I was so close.

I reached her, ignoring the pain, and shook her hard.

"Clara! Wake up!"

For a single, agonizing second, I thought she was gone—that the fire had swallowed her whole.

Then—

She gasped.

The flames vanished.

The suffocating heat disappeared, leaving behind only the charred remains of her uniform and the heavy scent of smoke.

Silence.

Clara blinked dazedly, her gaze flickering downward—to my burned hands still gripping her shoulders.

Her face paled. "Master—ahh!"

Before she could spiral into a panic, I tore off my shirt and tossed it over her, covering the scorched little fabric clinging to her skin. The fire had ravaged most of her clothes, leaving Clara's underwear exposed in a scene that could've been ripped straight from a risqué anime. The oversized shirt draped awkwardly over her frame, but it would have to do.

I let out a shaky breath, swiping sweat from my forehead. "Oof. Good thing I was here," I muttered, half-exhausted, half-exasperated.

Clara hesitated, clutching the half-burnt skirt tightly. "I… I didn't mean to—"

I cut her off with a wave of my hand. "Forget that. More importantly—" I narrowed my eyes. "Did you just create your first mana circle?"

She flinched slightly, clearly shaken. But after a moment, she gave a slow nod.

"Yes, Master."

'What?!'

It wasn't supposed to happen this fast. Theoretically, it should have taken at least a week.

But Clara had done it in only four days.

Was she truly a prodigy? Or had Nathan's memories misled me? I had no idea just how rare of a feat this was.

But one thing was certain—Clara was going to be powerful.

"How do you feel? Do you have any injuries?"

"No injuries... The fire just burned only my clothes," she answered, looking down.

"Hmm... Maybe, since the fire mana elements reacted to you, it won't hurt you, but you need to learn to control it so that you won't end up in this state next time.

"Y-yes..." Her face still didn't look up.

"Clara," I called out, and her body gave a slight jerk.

"Look at me."

I wanted to check how much her mental strength had increased.

She looked up, hesitating, her fingers tightening on her skirt.

I stared into Clara's deep blue eyes.

For days, she had trained tirelessly, her mental strength should have increased, but her demeanor was the same as always—obedient, reserved, wary.

At first, her eyes felt empty, like a broken doll. But then I saw something. Something small, something different.

A flicker of life.

It brought a small curl to my lips. Finally, a glimmer of hope.

Clara's face started to turn red as I continued to stare into her eyes.

I raised a brow. "Are you okay? Your face is still flushed."

Clara quickly turned her head downward, cheeks noticeably red. "I'm fine… Master."

"Still feeling the heat, huh?"

Clara gripped the shirt tighter around her chest. "Y-yes… the heat."

I stared at her for a brief moment before shaking my head.

"That's enough training for today. Let's go."

The sun had almost set, and a golden light began to cover the estate. The heat burns in my hand looked horrifying, it felt like thousand needles were piercing my skin all at once.

Hah... I needed to visit that old man again, and luckily, he was still in the estate. Clara and I headed to the infirmary, and fortunately, he was there. Since I had given my shirt to Clara, I was shirtless. When we arrived, the old man gave me a curious look, his eyes scanning my battered body. Despite the questioning glance, he quickly got to work, treating my injuries with his usual expertise.

As we walked back to the mansion, whispers followed me like an unwanted echo.

"Just what kind of beast is he for her to be in that state?"

"Did you hear? He even laid a hand on that child, Rose."

"What? Poor child! Just how long do we need to suffer from him?"

"Eeek—he looked at me! His lecherous eyes definitely scanned my breasts and hips!"

"Maybe you're next. My condolences."

"Eeeek—"

Once, their words would have left me seething.

But now?

I barely heard them.

For the first time since I arrived in this world—

A spark of hope flickered in the darkness.

Maybe—**just maybe—**things weren't so hopeless after all.