Chapter 1: The Fall of the Blackwell Family

  The blare of a steam whistle jolted Elijah awake.

  For a brief moment, he had no idea where he was.

  Before him lay an old-fashioned cabin with a swaying chandelier. The yellowed cabin glass reflected the endless expanse of the sea. The wind howled over the water, slipping through unseen cracks and filling the room with a biting chill. Elijah shivered as a sharp pain surged through his head.

  Just last night, he had been at home, playing a Lovecraft-inspired card game called “Name of the Forgotten One.” How did he end up here?

  Rubbing his temples, more foreign memories surfaced in his mind.

  Elijah Blackwell.

  A resident of Westgate, a coastal city in the northern region of the Kingdom of Alveria. He was the third son of Alexander Blackwell, the head of the Blackwell family, one of Westgate’s five most powerful mafia families. Nineteen years old, Elijah was currently a sophomore at the Royal Academy of Fine Arts, studying classical painting. Unlike the rest of his family, he had no involvement in the family’s business.

  As his father often said, “At least one of us should live a normal life.”

  At this moment, he should have been enjoying the autumn in the royal capital on the warm western coast, preparing for his fall exams. However, a piece of devastating news had forced him to set sail for home.

  His father, Alexander Blackwell, had been severely injured in an attack and was now on the brink of death. It was a family tradition that, during times of crisis, all members had to be present. He had no choice but to return.

  So, did he transmigrate?

  Elijah gathered his thoughts and looked down at his hands. They were smooth and delicate, almost like marble. He turned to the cabin window, catching a reflection of his face—a sharp nose, deep blue eyes, and a finely chiseled jawline. It was an extraordinarily handsome face, with an almost ethereal quality.

  This was now his face.

  Elijah Blackwell.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, our long journey has finally ended. Welcome back to solid ground. We’ve arrived in Westgate! Let us give thanks to the Sea Lord and look forward to our next meeting on the water!”

  “Praise the Sea Lord!”

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  The announcement interrupted Elijah’s thoughts. A middle-aged man dressed as a first mate stood at the cabin entrance, leading the passengers in a strange gesture.

  He spread his fingers wide, holding his hands in front of him, then quickly wiggled his fingers upwards as if mimicking the waves. Everyone in the cabin followed his lead, chanting, “Praise the Sea Lord!”

  Not wanting to stand out, Elijah mimicked the gesture and joined in. The next moment, he felt a strange ripple, and everything around him blurred. A bright light appeared before him, and within it, something writhed—like a living creature, or liquid mercury in motion.

  Name of the Forgotten One?!

  Elijah remembered the final moments of the game he had played last night. He had beaten the game and unlocked the final ending, seeing an identical vision.

  Was it real? Did it follow him into this world?

  “Young Master Elijah, it’s time to disembark. I believe your family is already waiting for you.”

  A voice brought Elijah back to reality. The cabin was nearly empty, with only the first mate, Carter, standing nearby. His memories told him that Carter was a man who had once received kindness from the Blackwell family, and it was thanks to him that Elijah had managed to secure a last-minute ticket for this voyage home.

  “Understood.” Elijah—no, he was now truly Elijah Blackwell—nodded, taking a deep breath. The blinding light had disappeared, as if it had been a mere hallucination. He would have to face this new world and its realities.

  “I’ve heard about your father’s condition,” Carter said softly as they walked. “I hope he recovers. He’s always been a generous and remarkable man.”

  “Thank you,” Elijah replied without turning back, stepping out of the cabin.

  On the deck, the cold air cut through him like a knife. It was already afternoon, and the sun hung low in the sky. The reflection of ice on the distant sea made the sunlight appear cold and pale.

  Elijah exhaled a cloud of mist and heard someone calling his name.

  “Young Master Elijah, over here!”

  The voice belonged to a young woman around seventeen or eighteen with a determined expression. She wore a sleek, dark coat, a matching newsboy cap, and her ash-blonde hair was tied into a neat ponytail. Black leather gloves covered her hands, and her polished boots exuded an air of precision and efficiency.

  This was Mira, a girl whom Elijah remembered as the orphan his father had adopted. Trained from a young age in various combat and assassination skills, she had been meant to serve as the sharpest weapon for his eldest brother.

  Why had she come to pick him up? Normally, it should have been his second uncle.

  Elijah followed Mira down the gangway to the dock. She moved swiftly toward a waiting black vintage car, which had a sleek and pointed design that resembled the finest models from the Klaus Company.

  Once inside, Mira expertly started the engine and drove away from the pier.

  They drove in silence until Elijah noticed a procession passing by the car window—a parade of people escorting a massive model of a wine bottle. Only then did Mira break the silence.

  “Young Master, aside from your father, the rest of your family is dead.”

  “What did you say?” Elijah frowned.

  “Exactly what it sounds like,” Mira said coldly. “Your father was ambushed and fell into a deep coma. Your eldest brother, Victor, took over the family. He discovered the identity of the attacker—a rising power named Adrian Cabreaux, the head of the Cabreaux family. Two nights ago, Victor led the family’s elite on a mission of revenge, but they were completely wiped out. If I hadn’t been traveling back to Westgate at the time, I would have died with them.”

  Elijah watched her through the rearview mirror. Her emerald green eyes were calm, almost indifferent.

  For a brief moment, Elijah wanted to ask if he could just turn around and return to the capital, abandoning it all.

  As if reading his thoughts, Mira spoke again. “You don’t need to worry about your safety. Just yesterday, your father regained consciousness long enough to ask Samuel DeLuca from the Conti family to mediate. Adrian has agreed to a ceasefire on the condition that the Blackwell family completely withdraw from Westgate. You’re here to handle your family’s affairs, as your father is bedridden and unable to act.”

  Samuel DeLuca, known as the “Saint of the Underworld,” held supreme authority in Westgate’s criminal underworld. No one dared defy him.

  As Elijah processed this information, he felt a faint sense of relief.

  But being thrust into a world where his family had been wiped out was far from comforting. Especially when he now had to take charge of the aftermath himself.

  Silence filled the car as Elijah’s gaze drifted to the window. A piece of newspaper, blown by the wind, covered the glass. The headline read:

  “The Kingdom’s Parliament Passes New Law: Nationwide Prohibition to Be Implemented.”