Lord Vossar stood beside the crib, looking down at his newborn daughter. His long blue hair caught the soft light filtering through the nursery windows. His piercing violet eyes the signature trait of the Voss bloodline held a quiet intensity as the faint runic patterns within them slowly revolved.
Elara lay still, watching him with the same calm focus.
He reached down and gently lifted her into his arms. His touch was careful, almost clinical. For a long moment he studied her face the porcelain-pale skin, the white hair, and especially the blood-red ruby pupils that did not match the Voss lineage at all.
"Elara," he said quietly.
The name left his lips with measured care, as if testing how it felt. He turned her slightly so he could look directly into her eyes.
"Different," he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else. "Not Voss blood… but perhaps something better."
Elara met his gaze without blinking. In her mind, the calculations continued.
He is assessing me, she thought. Not as a daughter, but as an investment. The prophecy mentioned earlier… they are already placing expectations on these eyes.
Lord Vossar's expression remained calm, but a faint tension showed in the set of his jaw. "The Voss bloodline comes from a powerful hybrid ancestor a union between a fallen celestial and a high demon. That is why most of us carry blue hair and violet eyes. Our eye bloodline grants the ability to see through illusions… and to create illusions so potent they can pull victims into dream worlds. From there, we can calculate every power our opponents possess and see their flaws with perfect clarity."
He paused, his violet eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at Elara's crimson ones.
"Yet for decades now, most descendants only awaken the illusion aspect. The full power the sight that pierces and calculates has grown rare. That is why our family has fallen under the shadow of the great House of Whispering Void, the echo of Nythera."
Lord Vossar's voice grew quieter, heavier.
"If we cannot produce a single genius capable of fully awakening the eye bloodline and earning a place among the Whispering Void's inner circle… then our house will continue to decline. We will lose what little status we still hold. The other great houses will swallow us whole."
He looked at Elara with a mixture of desperation and calculation.
"You carry eyes unlike any Voss before you. The Nomos Seer's prophecy spoke of a child who could reverse our fate. If your bloodline awakens strongly… you may be the one who saves us."
Elara remained silent in his arms. In her mind, the logic clicked into place, cold and clear.
So this is the situation, she thought. A declining noble house clinging to an ancient, powerful bloodline that has grown weak. They are under the influence of the Sovereign of Whispering Void. They need a genius with strong eyes to regain favor… or they will be erased.
For a brief moment, a small, quiet hope flickered inside her the same hope she had carried from her Earth life. Maybe this time she could find a place where she belonged. Maybe this father, this family, would be different. Maybe she could finally have the peaceful life she had once dreamed of.
She pushed the thought down almost immediately.
Hope had betrayed her before. Kindness had betrayed her before. She would not let it happen again.
Lord Vossar held her a moment longer, then carefully returned her to the crib. He straightened his posture, the moment of vulnerability gone.
"Take good care of her," he told the maid. "She may be our last hope."
With that, he turned and left the room, his measured footsteps echoing down the hallway once more.
Elara lay back in the crib, staring at the ceiling again.
A hybrid of demon and celestial… she thought. That explains the blue hair and violet eyes. And now they hope my unusual crimson eyes carry the dormant power they need.
She closed her eyes, but her mind did not rest.
She began to plan.
The Voss family needed a genius.
And she had every intention of becoming exactly that on her own terms.
.....
The days after her birth passed in a quiet rhythm that Elara observed with detached interest. Maids came and went, tending to her needs with careful hands. Her mother visited often, her face still pale from the difficult delivery, but her touch gentle. She would hum soft lullabies and stroke Elara's white hair, whispering words of hope about the future.
Elara allowed the affection. She even found a strange, distant comfort in it. For the first time in two lives, someone was looking at her with genuine care instead of calculation or exploitation. A small part of her — the part that still remembered the scientist who had once believed in a normal, peaceful life — wanted to believe this could be different.
She let herself imagine it for a few quiet moments each day. A family that valued her. A father who saw her as more than a tool. A life where she could lower her guard, even just a little.
But every time the thought surfaced, she reminded herself of the facts.
This family was declining. They had already pinned their hopes on a prophecy and a Nomos Seer's divination. They needed results. And if her eyes failed to deliver the power they expected…
She pushed the hope down deeper each time.
Better to prepare for the worst than to be blindsided by it again.
One afternoon, while the young maid was tidying the nursery, Elara stared intently at her. She tried to focus the way she imagined her future ability might work — willing herself to see something beneath the surface, to analyze or copy even the smallest spark of power. She concentrated hard, her tiny brow furrowing with effort.
Nothing happened.
The maid noticed the baby's intense stare and smiled brightly.
"Aww, the young mistress is so cute when she glares like that!" she gushed, leaning closer and gently pinching Elara's cheek. "Look at those serious little eyes!"
Elara kept staring, internally fuming.
Damn it, she thought. Didn't those webnovels say that transmigrators are supposed to be the main characters and develop faster? Where is my golden finger?!
She cried in her mind, lampooning the stories that had been her only comfort during the few minutes of break she could steal on Earth. Those authors deceived me.
The maid cooed again, completely unaware of the silent frustration bubbling inside the infant.
Elara gave up for the moment and let her tiny body relax. She would keep trying. Failure was simply data. She would observe, calculate, and adapt.