A dim hospital room.

  The rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor.

  The sterile sting of antiseptic in the air.

  Samuel lay motionless on the bed, his frail body trembling with each shallow breath. Wrinkled hands rested limply on the blanket. His vision blurred, but he could still make out the empty chairs beside him.

  No family.

  No friends.

  No one had come.

  After a lifetime of loyalty, sacrifice, and doing the right thing, he had hoped for a peaceful farewell. Instead, he was dying alone.

  A bitter chuckle escaped his cracked lips. “So this is how it ends.”

  Memories flickered through his mind—years of being a dutiful husband, a caring father, a reliable provider. Yet his wife had grown cold, his children distant, and his so-called friends had long forgotten his existence.

  Regret clawed at him.

  “If I had another chance... I’d live for myself.”

  Then—

  BEEEEEEEP.

  The heart monitor flatlined. His world turned dark. The chill of death wrapped around him.

  And then—

  Light.

  A sudden rush of air filled his lungs. He jolted upright, gasping.

  No hospital.

  No sterile smell.

  Instead, golden silk curtains draped from the ceiling, and a soft, perfumed breeze drifted through an ornate room. A chandelier hung overhead. Velvet cushions lined a massive bed beneath him.

  Where the hell am I?!

  Before he could move, a sharp pain lanced through his skull.

  Memories— not his own—flooded his mind.

  His name was no longer Samuel.

  He was Leonard von Ashenheim, illegitimate son of Duke Ashenheim, a noble of the Kingdom of Roshveil A bastard. A disgrace. A forgotten name.

  And worse—he recognized this world.

  It was the setting of a fantasy novel.

  Leonard was a minor villain, destined to be crushed by the protagonist. A stepping stone. A footnote.

  No cheats. No OP system.

  His only weapon?

  Knowledge.

  Leonard sat up slowly, pressing his fingers to his temple.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  In the story, he didn’t even survive past the early chapters. His half-brother, the heir Lucas, saw him as a threat. And in a world where bastards were nothing but stains on a family’s honor, Leonard’s days were numbered.

  But this time… he wasn’t just a scared boy.

  He was an old man—one who had been through life, betrayal, and death.

  If they wanted to discard him again, they’d regret it.

  BANG!

  The door slammed open.

  A woman strode in, fire in her steps and a scowl on her face. Her red hair was tied in a messy bun, and her uniform—though proper—was slightly wrinkled.

  Leonard instantly recognized her from his memories. Anna, the Duke’s personal maid.

  “Tsk. You finally woke up?” she said, arms crossed. “Thought you were gonna laze around like a useless young master. Honestly thought you were dead.”

  Leonard blinked. He almost laughed.

  What kind of maid talks like that?

  She was maybe in her late thirties, sharp-eyed, and bold. The uniform hugged her figure in ways that caught the eye, but it was her attitude that surprised him.

  In his memories, Anna was distant. Neutral.

  Now? She was openly rude.

  Leonard smirked. “Do all servants in this estate greet their masters like this, or am I just special?”

  Anna scoffed. “Master? Don’t flatter yourself. Even the dogs outrank you.”

  A glint flashed in Leonard’s eyes, but he kept his calm.

  So now that I’m awake, she’s dropped the act. Good.

  He could respond with anger—or play the long game.

  “Then why are you here?” he asked, voice cool.

  “The Duke’s summoned you,” Anna said, turning on her heel.

  Leonard stood and followed. But just before he crossed the threshold, he said, “Anna.”

  She paused. “...What?”

  His smirk deepened. “I hope you keep that attitude.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

  “Because soon,” Leonard said smoothly, “you’ll be calling me ‘Young Master’ with sincerity.”

  She snorted. “In your dreams.”

  The door slammed behind her.

  Leonard chuckled softly.

  “This might actually be fun.”

  ---

  Duke Ashenheim’s Audience Chamber

  The room radiated power. Heavy curtains, polished floors, and a long table made of obsidian-black wood.

  At the head sat Duke Reinhardt von Ashenheim—a broad-shouldered man with a stern face, sharp beard, and cold steel eyes.

  Beside him, Duchess Eleanor, elegant but icy. Her blue gaze held no warmth.

  Next to her, the heir—Lucas von Ashenheim, golden-haired and charming to outsiders. Leonard knew better. The protagonist’s foil. A viper in noble clothes.

  And across from Lucas, his half-sister—Evylen. Beautiful, quiet, and unreadable.

  The room fell silent as Leonard entered.

  “Leonard,” the Duke’s voice rumbled. “In one week, you will leave for the Imperial Academy.”

  Leonard kept his expression neutral. “...And why is that?”

  Lucas leaned back, smirking. “To be useful for once.”

  Duchess Eleanor spoke, voice crisp. “The Academy is selecting heroes from among the commoners this year. One will become the Empire’s champion.”

  Leonard’s fingers twitched.

  The Hero.

  The protagonist of the novel. A commoner who would rise, gain allies, crush nobles, and destroy Leonard.

  The Duke’s gaze pinned him down. “You will infiltrate his group. Earn his trust.”

  Leonard exhaled slowly. “I have no talent. Why would they accept me?”

  The Duke didn’t blink. “That’s your problem. I’ll provide what you need. The rest is up to you.”

  Leonard’s mind spun. It was a trap.

  If he succeeded, the Duke would claim credit. If he failed, he’d be cast aside. And if he refused?

  He wouldn’t leave this mansion alive.

  He had no choice.

  Leonard bowed slightly. “...Understood. I’ll go.”

  “Good,” the Duke said.

  Lucas smirked. “Try not to embarrass the family.”

  Leonard met his eyes and smiled faintly. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure the entire Empire remembers the name Ashenheim.”

  Lucas’s smirk faltered.

  Leonard turned and left the chamber. His fate was sealed. Now, he just had to survive—and maybe, just maybe… rewrite the story.

  -----