When Noir—no, Eryk—left the study, his mind was a whirlwind of confusion and uncertainty. The strange pulse of magic still simmered beneath his skin, an energy that was foreign yet familiar. It was as if his body knew how to wield it, but his mind hadn't caught up. That was a problem. He was in over his head. He had spent years as a thief, skirting by on instinct and street smarts, but none of that prepared him for this—being a noble, a figure of power, influence… and expectation.
Expectation. That word alone weighed on him more than any bag of stolen goods ever had. His father's—Lord Lavelle's—words still echoed in his mind.
You must help restore our family's honor.
Eryk had never thought of himself as someone who could carry that kind of responsibility. How could he? He had lived a life of solitude, trusting no one, caring for no one but himself. But now, the stakes were higher. He had a family—well, this body had a family—and they expected him to live up to a name he didn't even recognize.
…..
The hallway outside the study was quiet, too quiet. It reminded him of the silence before a big score—tension in the air, like the world was holding its breath. He felt the eyes of the servants on him as he passed, their faces betraying curiosity and maybe a little concern. What kind of person had Eryk Lavelle been before Noir took over?
He didn't have the answers. Not yet. But he would figure it out. He always did.
As he made his way down the grand staircase, a voice cut through his thoughts.
"Eryk."
He turned to see a young woman standing at the base of the stairs, her expression a mix of relief and frustration. She was beautiful, with long dark hair that fell in waves over her shoulders, and sharp, intelligent eyes that bore a striking resemblance to his own. There was a coldness to her demeanor, but beneath it, Noir sensed a flicker of something else. Concern, maybe.
"Lilia," he responded automatically, recognizing her from the maid's earlier mention of his sister.
She crossed her arms, her gaze sweeping over him, as if she were inspecting him for signs of damage. "You've been ill for days," she said, her tone laced with a mixture of worry and irritation. "Father thought… well, we weren't sure you'd make it."
Ill? That explained the maid's earlier reaction to seeing him up and about. Eryk—the real Eryk—must have been bedridden, perhaps even on death's door, before Noir's consciousness found its way into his body. The thought unsettled him. What happened to the real Eryk? Was he gone, or was he buried somewhere deep within, waiting to reclaim his place?
He forced a smile, though it felt strange on his new face. "I'm fine now. Just… needed some rest, I guess."
Lilia didn't seem convinced. Her eyes narrowed, and she stepped closer, studying him as if she could detect the truth with a mere glance. "You seem… different."
Noir's heart skipped a beat. Did she suspect? No, that was impossible. How could she? But her words left him uneasy all the same.
"I feel different," he admitted, hoping honesty would throw her off. "Almost like a new person."
Her gaze softened, and for a moment, she seemed to let her guard down. "Father's putting a lot of pressure on you. He doesn't say it, but I can see it in his eyes. He's counting on you to turn things around for us."
Eryk—Noir—said nothing. He didn't trust himself to speak without revealing too much. The weight of her words, combined with what their father had said earlier, hung over him like a storm cloud.
…..
They walked together through the estate, Lilia giving him a brief tour as if he hadn't spent his entire life here. Noir, of course, hadn't, and he used the opportunity to familiarize himself with the layout. The estate was massive, far larger than any building he had ever broken into. It was a place of wealth and history, though much of it seemed to be fading with time. The walls were lined with portraits of ancestors, men and women who had once been powerful, influential. Now, their legacy seemed to hang in the balance.
"I know Father didn't tell you everything," Lilia said as they passed a grand hallway adorned with gold accents. "He doesn't like to show weakness, especially not in front of you. But things are worse than they seem."
She stopped in front of a large window that overlooked the garden. The garden itself was beautiful—flowers in full bloom, the hedges neatly trimmed—but beyond that, Noir could see the edges of the estate, where the land gave way to a city in the distance.
"The Lavelle family has been in decline for years," Lilia continued, her voice quiet, almost resigned. "We've lost political allies, our businesses are failing, and we're barely scraping by. Father wants to keep up appearances, but the truth is… if something doesn't change soon, we'll lose everything."
Noir didn't know how to respond. He had spent his life taking what he wanted, never staying in one place long enough to care about consequences. But this… this was different. Eryk's family was on the verge of collapse, and for some reason, they believed he could fix it. But how? He was no noble, no businessman. He was a thief, and a damn good one, but even he couldn't steal back a legacy.
"Is that why Father's so intent on me attending this gathering of nobles?" Noir asked, trying to sound as if he understood the importance.
Lilia nodded. "It's our only chance to form new alliances, to secure support. The other noble families… they're circling like vultures. They see our weakness, and they're waiting for the right moment to strike."
…..
Noir mulled over her words as they continued walking. He was in dangerous territory. If the other nobles were as cutthroat as Lilia suggested, then this wasn't just about money or power—it was about survival. And that was something Noir could understand. He had survived worse odds before, but this time, the stakes were higher.
"Do you think we can pull it off?" he asked, his tone casual, though he was genuinely curious.
Lilia glanced at him, her expression unreadable. "I don't know. But I'm not giving up. Not yet."
There was a fire in her voice, a determination that made Noir reconsider his initial impression of her. She wasn't just a noble playing her part—she cared, deeply, about her family's future. And despite the cold exterior she projected, Noir could see that she was just as desperate as he was to find a way out.
…..
Later that day, Noir found himself alone in one of the estate's smaller sitting rooms. It was a quiet space, lined with bookshelves and filled with the scent of old parchment. He had excused himself from Lilia, claiming he needed to rest, but the truth was, he needed time to think.
Sitting in a large armchair by the window, he stared out at the city in the distance, its lights flickering in the fading twilight. His mind wandered back to his old life—the life of a thief, a loner, a man who had lived by his own rules. How had it all come to this? One moment, he had been bleeding out in an alley, cursing the world, and the next, he was here, in a body that wasn't his, in a life that didn't belong to him.
He clenched his fists, feeling the faint pulse of magic in his veins. It was still there, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for him to tap into it. But how? How did one control something as intangible as magic? He didn't even know where to begin.
A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts.
"Enter," Noir called out, his voice more composed than he felt.
The door creaked open, and an older man stepped inside. He was dressed in fine but modest clothing, his posture stiff but respectful. Noir recognized him from earlier—one of the estate's long-serving servants.
"Master Eryk," the man began, his tone formal, "your father requests your presence in the council room. He wishes to discuss preparations for the upcoming gathering."
Noir nodded, rising to his feet. "Of course."
The servant bowed slightly before retreating from the room, leaving Noir alone once more. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever awaited him.