'Ugh, with everything that's happened to me, it feels like I'm fucking constipated. Ugh.'
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Just the door to his room.
"Young Master, your family is waiting for you at the dining hall."
'Fuck… how the hell did I end up here?'
'Just three days ago, I was peacefully waiting for the 2026 World Cup to start... and thanks to our beloved friend Truck-kun, it looks like I've been reincarnated.'
He groaned, forcing his body in a desperate attempt to shit.
"Ugh…"
'The worst part of all this? It's who I ended up becoming.'
Noah Valenhart.
A so-called "noble," branded useless trash by his own bloodline. Jet-black hair, crimson eyes, and a family legacy that breathes fire — both literally and politically. The youngest of five in the terrifyingly powerful House Valenhart, famous for its brutal mages and unforgiving standards. Everyone in the family awakened powerful mana cores early. Everyone… except him.
No talent. No respect. No bright future.
Tok. Tok. Tok.
"Are you alright, Young Master? If you'd like, I can tell your family you're feeling unwell," the maid asked, a trace of concern in her voice.
"No, it's fine. Just tell them I'll be there in five minutes. I need to get dressed."
Noah felt like shit—literally and figuratively. Even taking a dump stung like hell. These last three days had been miserable, not just because he had reincarnated into a world of nobles and monsters, but because he knew… he'd never get to see his glorious Spain lift the World Cup with that golden new generation.
"I swear to fucking God, I wanna shit on destiny itself. Who the hell told me to go and die? And now I'm stuck in a world with magic and fucking monsters."
With a final groan, he flushed the toilet. He was naked—because yeah, sometimes you need to strip completely just to focus on pushing that shit out. Don't judge.
He quickly threw on the noble clothes stored neatly in the wardrobe. His room was spacious, with a massive window overlooking magnificent gardens and elegant fountains. The fountains were enchanted, dancing in perfect synchrony with the morning light.
The outfit was black and sleek, tailored to perfection. It matched his jet-black hair and made his crimson eyes stand out even more — like blood against silk.
'This'll be the first time I interact with the family... I've been pretending to be sick for three days. Not lying, honestly — nothing was coming out, and it hurt like hell. But whatever... I guess it's time to take the first damn step in this world.'
Noah had reincarnated into the world of Ignisar.
Noah opened the door to his room. His maid was still standing there, waiting. She was kind to him — possibly the only person in the entire Valenhart household who gave a damn about her young master.
Brown hair, around twenty years old. She had been raised and trained from a young age to serve House Valenhart. Unlucky her — she had been assigned as the personal maid of Noah fucking Valenhart.
'Poor girl. You've probably been through hell serving this clown of a noble. Don't worry, things are going to change… though I've got no idea if that'll be for better or worse. According to the novel, Noah was a walking disaster. Well, I guess we'll see. For now... food.'
Noah followed the maid closely. If he remembered correctly, her name was Judith.
The hallways were long and wide, lined with countless doors on either side, each leading to a different room. Noble manors weren't just houses — they were fortresses. Cities unto themselves. Over a hundred bedrooms, more than thirty bathrooms.
'The amount of money these noble families have is insane. Not even Earth's billionaires had this kind of excess. Well… maybe I could've had something like this myself if I'd actually hit that damn bet. I put everything I had on Spain winning. It would've multiplied my money tenfold — my last bit of cash, by the way. I had no idea how I was going to survive in college. Probably would've ended up begging on the streets.'
Snapping out of his thoughts, Noah reached his destination.
A massive set of double doors stood before him. Two guards flanked the entrance, each holding a long spear — sharp as hell and clearly meant for more than just decoration.
As Noah stepped forward, both guards lowered their spears, blocking his path.
"Apologies, sir," one of them said, voice firm. He looked to be in his forties, completely bald — like a shiny walnut — but with a decently respectable mustache. "The family is currently dining and requested not to be disturbed."
"Excuse me?" Noah raised an eyebrow. "I believe I'm perfectly entitled to a warm meal with my family, don't you think?"
The other guard answered flatly. "We're sorry, sir. You're not allowed in."
Noah's forehead vein started pulsing. His expression darkened, eyes narrowing like drawn blades.
"Umm… who the hell are you, exactly?"
"A knight of House Valenhart."
"No no — your name, genius."
"R-Robert, sir," he replied, swallowing hard.
"Good. Robert, tell me — who am I?"
"You're… Noah Valenhart, sir."
"Excellent. And now, Robert, who do you think ranks higher in this household? You — a bald-ass glorified doorman? Or me — a direct bloodline son of Leon Valenhart, Head of House Valenhart and Sword of the North?"
"…You, sir."
"Great. Fantastic. Now, if you would kindly move your fucking stick out of my way," he said with a smirk.
The guards lifted their spears and stepped aside, opening the massive doors in silence.
And thus, Young Master Noah Valenhart walked into the dining hall — uninvited, unwelcomed… and entirely unbothered.
PAM!
'Fucking hell that was loud.'
The door slammed shut behind Noah, sealing him inside with the people he hated calling family.
No turning back now.
The dining hall was massive — too massive for comfort. The marble floor gleamed like it had been wept on by angels, expensive enough to make you feel guilty for walking on it. Above, chandeliers crackled softly with enchanted fire — flames bound to the Valenhart bloodline itself.
And at the very end of the table sat the man who ruled it all.
Leon Valenhart.
The Sword of the North.
Noah's father.
His crimson eyes were even colder than Noah's own — like looking into a furnace that had long since burned out, leaving only ash and judgment. His gray hair was swept back, not a strand out of place. His posture was perfect — calculated to avoid back pain even decades into the future.
He didn't even glance at Noah when he entered.
To Leon's left sat two of Noah's older siblings:
Victor Valenhart — the eldest. Six years older than Noah. Broad shoulders, deadly silence. The kind of presence that weighed down a room just by breathing.
Cassandra Valenhart — third child. Three years older. Midnight-black hair, razor-sharp expression. A natural talent in magic and even sharper with her tongue.
To Leon's right, seated with elegance, were his two wives:
Marie Valenhart — the First Wife. Silver-gray hair like steel, still stunning in her mid-forties thanks to her Master-ranked warrior core. Graceful, commanding.
Elizabeth Valenhart — the Second Wife. Raven-haired, same age, same terrifying magical prowess. A calm, unreadable smile was her default expression.
Next to them:
Helen Valenhart — the eldest sibling. Gray hair streaked with white, the prodigy of the Valenhart line. The kind of genius that made even seasoned war veterans feel inadequate.
Marcus Valenhart — the fourth son. Just one year older than Noah. Kind eyes, quiet strength. If Noah had a favorite among them, it would be him — not that he'd ever admit it aloud.
No one spoke. No one greeted him.
Only Judith, still standing at the back near the door, gave him the smallest nod.
Noah took a breath, then walked down the long length of the table like a convict heading to his execution. He pulled out the empty chair at the far end and sat.
Cold silence.
Until—
"It seems you've recovered, Noah," Leon said coolly, not even bothering to look up from his plate.
"Yeah, well… you could say I'm doing better. Couldn't leave the bathroom before. Real bonding time with the toilet, honestly."
"It's been days since we last saw you, little brother. And now here you are, even joining us for a meal," Victor added with a raised brow, voice tinged with amusement. "Interesting shift."
'Oh, so the original Noah didn't eat with the family. Guess that explains the tension. Whatever—too late now.'
"Hmm, I'm not sure if this is a good change or a bad one. What do you all think, family?" Cassandra followed up with a smile so polite it might as well have been a dagger.
"It is quite the surprise, I'll admit," said Marie, the first wife, sipping her wine with perfect poise. "I wasn't expecting the bastard son to show up at the dinner table."
'Every time one of them opens their mouth, I learn something new. A bastard, huh? Thanks for the info, Leon. Honestly, these women don't deserve you… then again, you probably don't deserve anyone either.'
"Order," Leon cut in, his voice sharp enough to slice through the rising tension. After a pause, he continued, "As you're aware, Noah, you're nearing the age of majority."
"Right, eighteen years old, isn't it? Will we throw a grand party in my honor?" Noah smirked, tossing the words like pebbles into a still pond.
"Eighteen?" Marcus scoffed, chuckling under his breath. "You mean sixteen, dumbass. Can't even remember your own age?"
Leon shot Marcus a cold, silencing glare. He shut up immediately.
"Right, right… Sixteen. My bad."
Leon cleared his throat, voice regaining its formality. "As I was saying. Now that you're approaching adulthood, your marriage has been arranged. You'll be wed to Amelie Aquelis of House Aquelis. Their delegation will arrive here in Valenhart in the coming days."
"Wait, marriage? Just like that? Doesn't my opinion count for anything in this?"
"No," Leon replied without a shred of hesitation. "It doesn't. For nearly sixteen years, you've contributed nothing of value. Your siblings excel in every field, while you've wasted the name you were given. Despite the support you've received, you've achieved nothing. So no—your opinion is irrelevant. This is final."
'Well. Looks like I'm getting married. Hopefully she's at least hot.'
"I see. Understood, Father."
Murmurs echoed from the other end of the table — not quietly either.
"Finally, we'll be rid of this social waste," someone whispered just loud enough. Likely the two wives, grinning behind their goblets.
'Hey assholes, I'm still right here. You do realize I have ears, right?'