Birds chirped outside the bedroom window, and the morning sunlight felt warm against the skin. Damian had showered, eaten breakfast, and was now in his backyard, stretching his muscles.
The clock showed 10 a.m. He had slept like a log last night—one of the most restful nights he'd ever had. Perhaps it was the aftereffect of transmigration.
Right now, he stood in the center of the backyard, clenching his fists, feeling the surge of energy building up inside him, ready to be unleashed.
Slowly, a blue aura radiated from his body, distorting the air around him with heat and pressure.
Damian glanced down at his hands in satisfaction.
"So this is what it feels like to be a magus? To wield supernatural power and overwhelming strength?" he muttered, a grin curling across his lips.
Today marked the fourth day since his magical foundation had vanished—and now, it had finally returned.
He gathered concentrated energy into his palm and slammed it into the ground.
BOOM!
A shockwave erupted, tearing the earth apart in a violent blast of force.
"This is fucking great," Damian said, grinning wide.
He didn't stop there. One movement after another followed—fluid, powerful, relentless. The day was still long, and he intended to spend it adapting to his new body and its capabilities.
---
Time flew, and soon night had fallen.
Lucas had spent the entire day training, cycling through various techniques—some from his own family, others from foreign traditions—while cultivating in between.
And even though he already knew what Damian was capable of… he couldn't help but be impressed.
It was no wonder Damian had been branded a genius.
His potential was tremendous. And yet, in the original plot, his fate had been utterly tragic.
But not this time. Lucas wouldn't let this opportunity go to waste.
At this moment, one of his bodyguards approached him in the backyard, pulling him out of his thoughts.
"Young Master, the girl is awake. She tried to escape, but we stopped her," the man said respectfully.
Lucas nodded. "Alright. I'll go see her."
The guard bowed slightly before turning away.
Lucas stood up, his cultivation session leaving him feeling refreshed. The sensations had become familiar again—the steady absorption of mana, the circulation through his body, the gathering within his mana core: the heart of every magus.
Much like a real heart pumps blood through veins, the mana core circulated mystical energy throughout the body.
As he stepped into the living room, he saw Sofia sitting stiffly on the couch. She was silent, but the fury in her eyes was unmistakable.
"You're finally awake. How are you feeling?" Lucas asked, his tone laced with sarcasm.
Sofia shot him a sharp glare. "You're a bastard."
"I'm flattered by the praise," Lucas replied with a smirk.
"You can't keep me here. I'm the young lady of House Valemont. They won't just sit by and let this happen," she snapped, her tone filled with threat.
But Lucas merely chuckled. "Sofia, do you think I don't know the truth? You're not even Gustav's favorite child. He has five kids. His golden boy is Alex—the prodigy, the one he actually cares about. And most importantly… he's a man."
Sofia's expression faltered. "You're bluffing."
"Am I?" Lucas leaned in slightly. "Still pretending to be the precious daughter of a noble house? Acting like your family truly loves you?" His voice turned razor-sharp. "You know the truth, Sofia. How your father, Gustav—the chauvinistic bastard—treats women. How he treats your mother. How he treats you."
The words hit her like a slap to the face.
Sofia lowered her gaze. She knew it. Every syllable Lucas had uttered sliced through the layers of denial she had wrapped around herself for years.
There was no point pretending anymore. She'd spent years trying to win her father's affection. But he'd never truly seen her—not as a daughter, not as a person. All because she was born a girl.
"But don't dwell on it too much," Lucas said smoothly. "As they say, it's hard to describe the beauty of a rainbow to someone who's colorblind."
Sofia glared at him. "You said you didn't do anything to me. So what do you want? If you think this is some kind of twisted kidnapping romance, and that I'll fall in love and willingly give myself to you—keep dreaming. I don't have Stockholm Syndrome."
"I have no interest in touching you," Lucas replied casually. "I don't go digging in caves I didn't choose," he added with a smirk.
"Instead…" He turned and retrieved something from a nearby drawer—a maid uniform.
"You'll be working here. I enjoy having a beautiful girl serve me."
Sofia blinked, stunned. For a moment, she thought she misheard.
"Wait—what? You want me to work here?" she asked in disbelief.
"Yes. Just like a regular maid. You'll keep this place clean," Lucas replied with a nod.
"Lucas, are you serious? You could hire a hundred people to clean this villa. Why me? Are you insane?"
"I'm a man who values talent," Lucas replied lightly. "I know you enjoy cleaning. You even tried winning your father's favor by acting like a perfect daughter. That includes doing housework, right?"
Sofia stared at him like he was the devil.
"You're… unbelievable."
"Well," Lucas said, eyes narrowing, "if you refuse, something might happen to the Valemont family. Oh, right—there's a talented young girl enrolled in the Night Sky Order. Somehow, you convinced your father to treat her differently. She's not like you. Her name was… Lina, right?"
Sofia's eyes widened. Her hand shot up to slap him—but Lucas caught her wrist effortlessly.
Her expression darkened. "Don't you dare touch her!" she hissed.
"That's up to you," Lucas said, releasing her wrist and handing her the uniform. "So? Do you accept?"
Still glaring daggers at him, Sofia snatched the outfit from his hand.
"For my sister."
"Good." Lucas smiled. "Make sure you do your job well, Sofia."
He turned and walked away, leaving her seething behind him.
But just as he reached the doorway, he paused.
"Oh, and have dinner ready when I get back," he added with a smirk before walking out.
Sofia watched him leave, her fury burning hotter than ever. She gripped the maid uniform tightly, channeling all her anger into that clenched fist.