The mirror showed Aldrich Vale exactly what he expected - perfection. Sharp golden eyes, midnight black hair that fell in precisely the right way, and aristocratic features that would make sculptors weep. The body he'd inherited in this world was, objectively speaking, flawless.

He found it utterly boring.

"Young Master, your sisters are waiting in the garden for morning tea." The servant's voice trembled slightly. Even the staff could sense something was... different about the youngest son of House Vale since his mysterious fever last month.

"How tiresome," Aldrich drawled, adjusting his immaculate uniform. The Vale Academy's silver and blue colors complemented his coloring perfectly, of course. "Tell them I'll be down when I please."

The servant hesitated. "But Lady Rosalind specifically requested-"

"Did I stutter?" Aldrich's voice remained light, almost playful, but his eyes held something that made the servant take an involuntary step back. "Actually, do tell my dear step-sisters something for me. Tell them that batting their eyelashes and 'accidentally' brushing against me in the halls isn't going to make me suddenly develop familial - or any other kind of - affection."

The servant fled.

Aldrich turned back to the mirror, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. In his previous life, he'd been a prodigy who'd used his intelligence for chaos and profit in equal measure. Now he was reborn into a world of magic and nobility, with enough raw magical talent to make the gods jealous.

Everyone expected him to play the role of the dashing young noble, collecting admirers and accolades like butterflies in a net. His step-sisters, Rosalind and Evelyn, had already cast themselves as the devoted beauties vying for his attention, much to his disgust.

They'd all learn soon enough. He hadn't asked for this second life, but he'd use it - not for romance, not for family, but for entertainment. The Academy would just be his entertainer.

A pleasant smile curved his lips as he felt the raw magic thrumming beneath his skin. In his previous life, he'd been called "a monster wearing a human mask". How original. Ironically, he'd been given a face that matched the mask perfectly.

Time to see what kind of chaos he could create in this too-perfect world.

Out in the garden, Rosalind and Evelyn waited, their masks of demure patience cracking as Aldrich approached. Rosalind leaned forward, feigning concern. "You're different since the fever," she simpered, her saccharine tone grating on Aldrich's nerves.

He allowed a condescending smile. "If by 'different' you mean 'finally sick of this shallow charade,' then yes. You're very perceptive," he replied, his light, almost amused tone belying the mocking glint in his eyes.

Evelyn, catching the sarcasm, looked affronted. "We were only worried about you," she huffed, glancing to Rosalind for reassurance.

"Oh, don't trouble yourselves on my account," Aldrich drawled, waving a dismissive hand. "Worry about yourselves instead. I'm sure it'll keep you plenty entertained."

The sisters fell silent, staring at him as if he'd admitted to something totally unheard of. Aldrich didn't bother explaining - watching their carefully constructed politeness crack, revealing their discomfort, was far more satisfying. He nearly laughed at the conflicting emotions playing across their faces.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, ladies," he purred, his voice dripping with false charm as he turned to leave. "I have much more interesting things to occupy my time."