Leonhart—or rather, Damian—took a deep breath as he steadied himself. His mind still reeled from the revelation of his reincarnation, but there was no time for hesitation. His first priority was understanding his new identity and the circumstances surrounding the Everhart family.
The voice from outside returned, more insistent this time. “Damian! Get out here now, or I’ll have you dragged out.”
Pushing open the wooden door, Leonhart stepped into a dimly lit corridor. The figure waiting for him was a gaunt-looking servant in tattered clothes, his eyes filled with thinly veiled contempt.
“The master wants to see you,” the servant sneered. “Try not to embarrass yourself… again.”
Leonhart said nothing, merely nodding as he followed. The memories of Damian Everhart had not yet settled, leaving him in the dark about his past actions. If this servant's words were anything to go by, this body’s former self had been an outcast, likely shunned by his own family.
They descended a grand staircase, though the mansion itself was in a state of decline. Dust gathered in the corners, the once-polished marble dulled with neglect. This was not the home of a thriving noble house—it was a relic of former glory, much like the empire Leonhart had once ruled.
At the bottom of the stairs, an older man sat in an ornate chair. His sharp features and cold gaze suggested authority.
“So, you finally decided to crawl out of bed,” the man said, his tone dripping with disappointment. “Pathetic.”
Leonhart met his gaze evenly. Though his body was weak, his mind was as sharp as ever. Whoever this man was—father, uncle, or master—he would not bow so easily.
If they thought Damian Everhart was weak, they were in for a rude awakening.
