" Actually, young master… you were rather close to Lady Lyra."
"Yes? What is it?"
"Well… her father was found guilty of fraud, and the entire family was… beheaded..."
"Shit…" Kylian's neck stiffened at once. This world was far too merciless. One could lose one's life from one minute to the next, and the only sin of people like Lyra was not having been powerful enough to defend themselves.
He exhaled at length, then regained his composure.
"Anyway… now that you have prepared everything I need, I am going to see father."
Kylian carelessly tied his white hair into a low ponytail.
'It is time I obtain a lineage. Otherwise, I will join Lyra in the grave soon enough.'
***
At the other end of the continent, in a cathedral seeping with opulence and holiness…
"We greet the Saintess of the Temple."
The young woman called Saintess kept a cold face under her veil, despite the gentleness she displayed in public. Just as she was about to answer the priests surrounding her, a notification appeared in her field of vision.
[Ding — The System has detected the presence of a transmigrator
You offered him your love, and he did not hesitate to cheat on you, causing your suicide. Avenge yourself on the transmigrator Kylian von Hansen!]
A smile stretched across Charlotte's lips.
"After more than ten years in this world… here you are at last, Kylian."
Between reincarnators, regressors, transmigrators, incarnations of ancient gods and secret organizations lurking in the shadows, the young gothic master was far from the simple otome game he had prepared to survive. Other dangers prowled, well beyond the main characters he believed he knew.
...
In this world, in addition to the lineages transmitted by blood, there existed the Dungeons. They were neither more nor less than trials left by certain gods for the mortals: those who managed to complete them drew from them an inheritance, a stigma and thus a lineage, or one of the powerful weapons of ancient times. Kylian fully intended to head for one of these hidden Dungeons, the one he knew to be the cheat reserved for another of the handsome guys targeted by the game.
He had not revealed the truth to his father. He had only told him that he was going hunting in the mountains. If he had admitted his true intentions, Henrik would never have let him leave.
Kylian mounted his horse, tightening the straps of his equipment.
"I hope my level will be enough…" he murmured. "I have prepared well. I will survive, no matter the cost."
***
...
Henrik was already in the courtyard when Kylian came down the steps of the porch, his travel bag over his shoulder. The horse pawed the ground, impatient, its black coat gleaming under the morning sun.
"So that's how it is, you're going hunting." The count crossed his arms, his gaze sliding over his son's equipment. "Since when does hunting interest you?"
"Since I started training, father." Kylian tightened the strap of his quiver. "A hunter who never hunts remains a garden archer... I would like to refine my art."
Henrik emitted a grunt that could pass for amusement. "Where do you plan to go?"
"The northern mountains."
The count frowned. "That's far. Three days on horseback, maybe four if the weather turns."
"Exactly." Kylian checked the fastenings of his saddle without lifting his eyes toward his father. "I want game worthy of the name."
"You're taking an escort."
"No... that won't be necessary, Father."
"Be careful, son." Henrik's voice had lost all its usual coldness. "You are all I have left."
Kylian nodded. He spurred his mount and passed through the domain's gates without looking back.
'Don't worry I have no intention of dying a second time...'
The road north stretched between increasingly steep hills, the dense vegetation of the county gradually giving way to stunted pines and outcrops of gray rock. Kylian had been riding since dawn, stopping only to let his mount breathe and nibble the bread the manor's cook had made for him.
At dusk on the second day, the silhouettes of the mountains stood out clearly on the horizon, their peaks still crowned with snow despite the season. A village appeared at the turn of a pass, its thatched roofs clustered around a single paved street.
The inn was in the center, recognizable by its wooden sign depicting a roughly carved boar. Kylian tied his horse outside and pushed the door.
The common room smelled of spilled wine and burned wood. A few travelers still lingered around the tables, but the place was already emptying for the night. The innkeeper, a corpulent man in a stained apron, looked up from his counter.
"A room and something to eat," Kylian asked, placing a few coins on the worn wood.
"Boar stew, does that suit you?"
'Anyway, all the cooking in this world tastes like shit...'
"That will do."
He ate alone, in a corner of the room, mechanically scanning the other customers with his gaze out of reflex. The stew was decent, the meat a bit overcooked, but after two days of dry bread, Kylian was not going to complain.
'If I become a chef in this world, I'm sure I'll be a hit...'
Once his bowl was empty, he climbed the wooden staircase that creaked under every step, his room key turning between his fingers.
Arriving on the landing, he froze.
A hooded silhouette stood in front of his door, motionless in the gloom of the corridor.
'A mountain bandit?'
His hand slid toward the knife in his belt, his muscles tensing under his travel cloak.
The silhouette moved first, a hesitant gesture. Two hands rose toward the hood and pulled it back.
Kylian remained frozen in place, his hand still clenched on the handle of his knife.
"Lyra!?"