Life has a cruel sense of humor.
One moment, I was a celebrated author, basking in the success of my bestselling light novel: "From Third Prince of a Fallen Kingdom to S Rank adventurer". A year later, I was dead—collapsing face-first onto my keyboard, buried under deadlines and caffeine withdrawals.
And now?
Now, I've been reincarnated inside my own book.
But not as the protagonist. Not as a villain. Not even as a named side character.
No.
I was born as an extra—a child cast aside by a corrupt noble family that I barely even mentioned in my story. Someone who shouldn't have existed in the first place.
And yet, here I am.
A nameless infant abandoned before I could even take my first steps.
The day I was born, the sky was clear—unnaturally so, without a single cloud to veil the piercing sun. The estate of the noble house into which I had the misfortune of being born was grand, towering over the land like a monument to their wealth and greed.
But none of that mattered.
Because the moment I opened my eyes, I saw their faces twisted in disgust.
"…His hair… His eyes… This is an ill omen," one of the midwives whispered, voice trembling.
"Silver-white hair and gold eyes… No one in our lineage has ever had such unnatural features," a noblewoman—my supposed mother—spat, looking at me as if I were a plague-ridden rat.
I didn't cry.
Not because I didn't want to, but because I already understood. Even as a newborn, my mind—my soul—was still that of my past self. And in that moment, I realized something crucial.
This wasn't my family.
And they never would be.
The head of the household, a man with sharp features and even sharper eyes, regarded me with cold detachment. Without a word, he signaled to the court mage.
A magic affinity test.
A crystal ball was placed before me, shimmering with anticipation. If I had any affinity for magic, the orb would glow, revealing my elemental alignment. In this world, every human was born with at least some magical affinity—even if it was weak.
But when the mage muttered the incantation and placed his hand on the orb…
Nothing happened.
Silence filled the room.
"…A failure," my father said, his voice devoid of emotion.
"He has no affinity," the mage confirmed, shaking his head. "Not water, not fire, not even light or shadow… Nothing."
"Then he is useless to us."
Just like that, my fate was decided.
I wasn't given a name. I wasn't even given a second glance.
Within the hour, I was wrapped in a thin cloth and discarded—left outside the estate, cold and alone.
Most babies wouldn't survive being abandoned like that. But I wasn't most babies.
The orphanage that found me wasn't much, just a small building on the outskirts of the capital, run by an overworked nun and filled with children who had been tossed away just like me.
That was where my new life began.
That was where I chose my own name.
I wasn't the Third Prince of a fallen kingdom. I wasn't an adventurer chasing fame and fortune. I wasn't a hero destined to slay the Demon Lord.
I was just Arc.
And for now… that was enough.
Because while the world thought I was powerless—just another nameless orphan with no future—there was one thing they didn't know.
I could create.