"Hmmmm…"
Kolden slowly blinked into consciousness, his knuckles rubbing against his eyelids before he arched his back in a long, bone-popping stretch. As his gaze drifted across the ceiling, he realized the darkness was gone. He wasn't in a void anymore and, thankfully, he wasn't inside a whale's gullet. Judging by the polished grain of the furniture and the sprawling estate visible through the glass, he had landed exactly where the tropes suggested: he had transmigrated as a fantasy noble.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, confirming his suspicion. He ran a finger over the wall, tracing the golden threads woven through the floral wallpaper. Sunlight spilled across the floor, catching dust motes near a bedside table decked with a porcelain vase.
"What a room," he muttered, picking up the vase and turning it over. "A bit tacky—needs a modern touch—but overall? Solid 10/10." He flopped back onto the mattress, digging his fingers into the fabric. "Especially because these sheets are so soft!"
He grabbed a light red silk pillow and buried his face in it, letting out a muffled, contented sigh. It was a stark contrast to his previous life. Back then, he was just a twenty-eight-year-old cog in the corporate machine—an orphan with no wife, no kids, and a boss who treated him like an appliance.
A slow smile crept onto his face. If this world followed the rules, there was magic in this life. He refused to be the "magic-less outcast" trope. He squeezed the pillow tight, resolving to build a legacy that actually meant something.
Before he could finish his cozy embrace with the bedding, the door clicked open. A butler stepped in, balancing a silver tray laden with steaming tea and flaky pastries. Kolden bolted upright, his hair a mess from the pillows. The butler offered a hearty, knowing laugh.
"Good morning, Master Kolden! If you desire more pillows, just say the word. I'll happily raid the linen closet for you," he said, his voice smooth and aged. He adjusted his simple black vest, his silver beard neatly trimmed to match his distinguished gray hair.
Kolden felt the heat rise to his cheeks. He quickly smoothed his shirt and turned his head away. "No, that's quite alright. I can always... fetch them myself."
The butler set the tray on the bedside table and began meticulously adjusting his suit cuffs. "Well, I'm here to congratulate you. Acceptance into Eldritch is no small feat, even for one of your standing. However, congratulations aside, today is moving day."
Kolden's heart skipped.
"The carriage leaves in three hours," the butler continued. "The journey takes two. Your father expects you to be well-dressed and sharp when the time comes. May the Goddess be with you." He offered a graceful bow and a hand gesture that looked like a silent blessing.
"Religion, huh? Wild," Kolden whispered. He stood up to follow, but his center of gravity was off. He stumbled, his head nearly hitting the doorframe. Wow, this guy is tall—what is he, six-something? He caught his reflection in a full-length mirror and froze.
He reached up, touching his new face. Golden blonde hair framed a pair of startling, blood-red eyes. He wasn't just healthy; he was a looker, appearing to be in his late teens. He shot his reflection a grin before finally stepping out into the hallway.
The scale of the manor hit him like a physical weight. The hallway felt more like a cathedral. He walked alongside the wall, his palm dragging against the cold, carved stone. Suddenly, a searing heat erupted in his hand. He looked down to see glowing runes etched into his skin.
His legs turned to jelly. Kolden slammed into the floor as memories surged into his brain like a hammer driving a nail. He fell to his side, his stomach churning until he promptly threw up onto the expensive carpet. He gasped for air while sweat matted his hair.
"This is… okay, crazy. Am I dying?"
He slumped against the wall, wiping his mouth. As the ringing in his ears faded, the "data" settled—he now had the memories of this body. He knew where he was, though names were still a bit fuzzy. He grimaced at the mess on the floor just as a petite maid with blonde ponytails rounded the corner.
Melissa, his brain supplied.
"Master Kolden, I shall assume that was due to nerves," she said, looking down at the puddle. "Please proceed to the dressing room; your mother is waiting to dress you herself today."
Kolden opened his mouth to apologize, but Melissa simply flicked her fingers. "Magus aquatica."
Kolden's eyes went wide. A sphere of water materialized in the air, swirling like a mini-hurricane. It swept across the carpet, lifting the vomit and scrubbing the fibers clean in seconds before diving into her cleaning bucket.
"Master Kolden," she nudged, "your mother."
"Right! Yeah, of course! Thank you for your… service. Cleaning service! Not… the other kind," he stammered, backing away. Melissa's brow furrowed in confusion, and Kolden took that as his cue to run.
Three hours later, Kolden stood before the manor entrance. He was draped in a navy blue blazer featuring a sword piercing a rose—the Eldritch emblem. Cainsted, the butler, led him toward a massive carriage where two figures waited.
A voice like a cannon blast echoed through the courtyard. "Kolden! I see you're making trouble already, throwing up on the carpets this early in the morning!"
The man was a giant, boasting the same wild golden hair and blood-red eyes as Kolden. Beside him stood Aeliana, Kolden's mother. She was nearly six feet tall herself, elegant in a pink and white silk dress, her silver hair shimmering in the sun.
"Dear, please don't be so loud," she scolded, nudging the giant's chest. "He is simply nervous. You can't blame him after that brutal training you put him through. I am still quite displeased about that."
The giant, Theron, sighed and looked at his son. Kolden couldn't help but chuckle. Despite the intimidating aura, this family felt real. According to his new memories, he was a bit of a "defect" in the family trade—he was inept with a sword in a house famous for blademasters. But his magic? That was a different story.
"I'm proud of you," Theron said, his voice dropping to a serious rumble. "I push you because I have to. To be frank, your potential as a swordsman isn't what Eldritch typically accepts, but your magic..."
Aeliana glared at him again, and Theron cleared his throat.
"Well, your magic is why you were allotted a scholarship. Regardless, I've asked my friend, Professor Erdwin, to mentor you in the sword. If your body isn't structured, your mind will falter. He will be sending me progress reports. If I don't see adequate growth by the end of the year, you're coming back here to train with me. Understood?"
Kolden looked at his father, then his mother, and finally the carriage. This wasn't a corporate office. This was a world where he could actually become strong.
"Understood," Kolden said, his voice firmer than he expected.
After a final round of goodbyes and a teary hug from his mother, Kolden climbed into the carriage. As the wheels began to churn against the gravel, he looked out the window at the receding manor. The journey to the academy had finally begun.