Day in the Life

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

Okjin sat in his lavish chambers, placing the fork back onto the plate and picking up the tea. He stared blankly at Jerry, who stood beside him, ever composed, ever patient.

The weight of his predicament had yet to settle—he had woken up as Lirien Sylvaine mere seconds ago, and the universe was already demanding he function like a fully competent duke-in-the-making.

No tutorial, no adjustment period, just straight into the deep end. Wonderful.

"What's my schedule today?"

Okjin asked cooly, mirroring the words of the Lirien from his memories, trying to sound like someone who belonged here and not like someone who had just discovered they were celestially scammed by 2 godly beings. 

 Casual. Natural. Totally not experiencing literal imposter syndrome. 

Jerry inclined his head. "At three in the afternoon, you are scheduled to work in your personal office. At six, you will take your 'walk' in the Matriarch's Garden before proceeding with your routine duties. No other engagements have been planned, as usual."

Okjin nodded sagely, as if that was exactly what he had been expecting.

"Very well."

Internally, he was screaming.

Why the hell was he so vague?! Can't you help a brother out? I swear to god Jerry you and your stupidly obscure answers! 

Jerry had only been mentioned in passing in the novel, described as the blue-haired fallen noble who followed Lirien around like a duckling trailing after its mother. 

He also recalled how one of the male leads had once tried to bribe Jerry for information on Lirien—only to be flat-out rejected without hesitation.

Now that he had seen Jerry both through Lirien's memories and his own eyes, he realized the novel hadn't been exaggerating. 

Jerry stuck to Lirien like glue—highly competent and unwaveringly loyal. His devotion was as unshakeable as iron; he would never betray his master's trust. 

That was good news for Lirien, but it also meant that his usual discretion had backfired on Okjin's current situation.

He followed Jerry through the impossibly empty and grand halls of the Sylvaine estate until they arrived at his office. 

The moment he stepped inside, his immediate thought was—ah, this is where productivity comes to die.

The office was stunning, of course, painted in celestial hues and lined with countless bookshelves containing more ancient tomes and knowledge than an average person could probably consume in a lifetime.

The scent of parchment mingled with the delicate fragrance of white lilies, creating an atmosphere of quiet intellect.It was the kind of place that demanded reverence.

But then there was the desk.

A veritable mountain of paperwork loomed before him, the stacks of documents so high they threatened to collapse under their own weight.

 A lesser man would have wept. Okjin merely exhaled sharply through his nose, suppressing a groan.

Lirien was the heir to the Sylvaine Duchy. He was not the Duke yet. So why did he have to do so much paperwork?!

Resisting the urge to flip the desk and declare himself a rebel against bureaucracy, he sat down and got to work. 

If university had prepared him for anything, it was the soul-crushing experience of tackling unreasonable workloads under unrealistic deadlines.

He systematically organized the documents, setting aside the most urgent ones and moving through them with frightening efficiency.

Hours mashed together, time blurred. He had fallen into the flow of it—stamp, sign, read, repeat.

A truly mind-numbing cycle. 

When Jerry returned, carrying a tray of tea and neatly sliced crystal melon, his expression wavered ever so slightly, though he quickly schooled his features back into calm professionalism.

Still, Okjin caught the brief flicker of surprise in his eyes as he set the tray down with practiced grace.

"My lord, you've completed half already?"

Jerry's voice held a note of incredulity, though it was quickly tempered with admiration.

He reached for one of the completed forms resting beside Okjin's arm, his fingers brushing against the crisp parchment as he lifted it for inspection. His eyes skimmed over its contents, and after a brief moment of silence, he hummed in approval.

"You usually only manage a quarter by this time," he mused, the corners of his lips curving ever so slightly. "You must be especially motivated today. As expected of a magical genius, you must be naturally inclined toward other fields of study…"

There was genuine respect in his tone, but Okjin nearly snorted into his teacup.

Genius? Please.

If Jerry had ever pulled an all-nighter fueled by nothing but caffeine and sheer desperation, then maybe he'd understand.

Compared to the soul-crushing panic of last-minute thesis deadlines in his past life, this was practically child's play.

At least here, there was no anxiety-inducing timer counting down to inevitable failure.

As he took a bite of the fruit, a burst of cool, subtly sweet flavor spread across his tongue. It was firmer than he'd expected, almost like biting into a crisp pear, but with a strange, delicate aftertaste that reminded him of honeydew.

He still wasn't sure how he felt about eating something called crystal melon—the name alone made it sound like it belonged in a jewelry store rather than on a plate—but at least it wasn't bad.

Once he had finished his light meal, Jerry stepped forward, offering a pristine handkerchief with a practiced ease.

His movements were calm, yet there was a faint note of expectation in his gaze as he inclined his head.

"The Matriarch's Garden awaits, my lord," he said, the words carrying the quiet assumption that Lirien already knew.

A gentle reminder, nothing more.

Jerry's words lingered in the air, and though Okjin gave a slight nod in response, the weight of expectation remained.

There was no further explanation, no hint of what truly awaited him — only the quiet certainty that he would follow.

Rising from his seat, Okjin moved with deliberate ease, careful to mirror the composed grace he'd glimpsed in Lirien's memories.

Jerry, ever attentive, stepped ahead without another word, his posture straight and practiced. The soft rhythm of his footsteps guided the way, each step leading Okjin closer to the unknown.

The moment Okjin stepped past the threshold, a subtle but undeniable shift in the atmosphere made him pause.

The cool, shaded halls of the estate gave way to a world brimming with life.

The air smelled fresher here, tinged with the faint fragrance of blooming flowers and something richer, older—like the lingering echo of magic woven into the very soil.

Okjin had walked through plenty of gardens before, but this wasn't just a collection of well-manicured plants.

This place was different.

The estate was grand, but the garden was sacred.

A spiral path of soft grass led towards a tranquil pond at its center, glowing lotus flowers floating upon the water's surface. The setting sun cast golden hues across the space, making the entire garden shimmer as though caught between reality and a dream. Blue butterflies with ethereal wings drifted through the air, circling him as if greeting him personally.

And then there was the crystal melon patch.

His gaze lingered on it longer than it should have.

Did Lirien only eat fruit from this garden? Was it a personal preference, or was there something deeper—some unspoken connection to his mother, the former matriarch?

The thought unsettled him, an unfamiliar weight settling in his chest.

Then he saw it.

At the center of the pond, a pristine white gazebo stood, suspended just above the water.

It was strikingly familiar, as though he had seen it before in a dream. No—he knew it.

His body knew it. A sense of recognition bloomed deep within him, not from memories, but from something older, something intrinsic.

Before he could process the flood of emotions or thoughts, his feet moved of their own accord, carrying him toward the gazebo with an almost hypnotic pull.

 Raise the moon.

The thought emerged, unbidden, yet certain. It felt like a truth buried in his very being, an undeniable sense of duty he couldn't shake.

He stepped into the gazebo, lowering himself onto the plush silk seat within it.

An unease flickered through him, but it was fleeting, drowned by a deeper sense of purpose.

Why am I doing this alone? Today can't be the Winter Noctis Celebration so where are the elders?

The questions surfaced, but no answers came. The silence around him was almost suffocating.

Yet, there was a pull—a beckoning force that felt both foreign and intimately familiar.

He closed his eyes, surrendering to it, reaching for the connection he instinctively knew was there.

Magic.

In the novel, Aurora had spoken of finding her magic core—a glowing sphere of power nestled deep within one's consciousness.

Hesitant but determined, Okjin reached inward, seeking that elusive essence. He pushed through the layers of his own mind, feeling the edges of something vast, something limitless.

When he opened his eyes, he was no longer in the gazebo.

Instead, he stood within an endless expanse, a radiant space where small lights drifted like celestial fireflies.

The sight was unsettlingly familiar—it reminded him of the "god space" he had encountered before his reincarnation, though this one was more luminous, more alive.

Before him, his magic core hovered in space.

It was massive—eclipsing his entire form.

A glowing orb of pale blue and white, radiating a soft, yet blinding light. It resembled a small moon, bound by heavy, shifting chains. Every so often, the orb pulsed with energy, straining against its bindings as though yearning to break free.

Of course, Lirien would have a magic core five gillion times larger than normal

Okjin thought dryly, his mind momentarily distracted by the absurdity of it all.

He reached out, his fingers brushing the chains.

Without hesitation, they shattered under his touch, disintegrating into light.

Power surged through him, filling every fiber of his being with raw, untamed energy. It was overwhelming—terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

Outside, Jerry stood at a distance, his eyes wide in silent awe.

A brilliant blue light poured from Lirien's chest, his hair billowing around him like silk caught in a celestial breeze. It was chaotic, wild, yet never once did it diminish his ethereal elegance.

The moon rose as though summoned by Lirien's very being, climbing higher and higher into the sky with effortless grace. Stars began to materialize around him, drifting upwards like scattered gemstones, forming constellations from his magic.

The very air seemed to bend, to bow to him. The glowing butterflies, too, swarmed around him, circling in reverence. The garden itself, the wind, the universe—all seemed to yield before him, as though in awe of his power.

Jerry fell to his knees.

It was not customary to bow to Lirien, but to remain standing in the face of such divinity felt blasphemous, as if to do so would defy the very order of the universe.

For the rest of the night, the moon reigned, and Okjin remained in a state of celestial empowerment, his body brimming with unimaginable amounts of magic. Jerry had quietly returned to his quarters sometime after midnight, but Okjin didn't notice—he was lost in the sensation of boundless power.

When awareness slowly returned, the first signs of dawn were creeping across the horizon. His limbs felt like lead, heavy with exhaustion that pressed down on him like a weight he hadn't anticipated.

Why…do I feel so drained?

His magic core was still overflowing with energy, yet his body trembled violently when he attempted to stand.

How does Lirien endure this?

Before he could question further, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Jerry appeared beside him, concern written across his features.

"My lord! Are you alright?"

Okjin exhaled shakily, his mind a whirl of confusion and unanswered questions. But the most pressing thought slipped from his lips, the question that gnawed at him.

"Why did I raise the moon alone tonight?"

Jerry hesitated, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"My lord, you raise the moon alone every night. Except for one week each month, during your recuperation period."

Okjin's breath caught in his throat. His mind reeled, as the truth of Jerry's words crashed into him.

Every night? By myself?

That… was not what the book had said.

The novel had made it clear that raising the moon was a monumental, awe-inspiring feat, something only the combined effort of Lirien and ten elders from the Sylvaine family could manage.

It was an impossible task for one person, which is why the Winter Noctis Celebration was such a grand event—an occasion where Lirien's power was put on display.

But now, reality had shattered that illusion.

What else did the book get wrong?

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．