Pain.
That was the first thing Aaron felt, when he opened his eyes. A deep, throbbing ache in his skull, he felt his ribs ache and there was a dull burning sensation on his knuckles, like he'd punched something way harder than he should have. His whole body felt wrong. Too light, too unfamiliar.
Wasn't he supposed to be dead, he clearly remembered the sharp pain of the bullet going through his skull?
Then came the memories.
He felt a rush of pain as sharp, crystal-clear images that he shouldn't have infiltrate his mind. A grand, sprawling mansion. Gold-trimmed halls and velvet drapes. A city split between warring mafia families. And a name that sent a cold chill down his spine.
Lucien D'Arcy.
Nope. No way.
Aaron sucked in a sharp breath; his body stiffened as realization crashed into him. He knew that name. He knew this world. He'd spent months obsessing over the novel in a bid to connect with his crush, he'd been rereading and even over-analyzing every chapter. But this wasn't his story.
It belonged to someone else.
In the original novel, Lucien D'Arcy was nothing more than a disposed villain. The weak, arrogant son of a powerful mafia lord. The one everyone mocked, the one used, betrayed, and tossed aside before the real protagonist took over.
And in just a few months? He was supposed to die.
He laughed out loud. He wasn't supposed to be in this novel, how exactly it happened he didn't understand.
He had died once already, and now fate had dumped him into the body of a doomed mafia heir who wouldn't even make it to twenty.
Nope, this wasn't happening.
Aaron forced himself upright, wincing as his ribs ached. His head was spinning but his mind was clear at least.
He couldn't let fate kill him off as he had become Lucien.
The bedroom was too big. Too extravagant. Heavy gold chandeliers, silk sheets, the faint scent of expensive cigars lingering in the air. He had barely had time to process it before there was a knock at the door.
"Young master Lucien." A voice. Flat. Unconcerned.
"Your father expects you at breakfast."
Ah. Of course.
Lucien barely resisted the urge to sigh. If he went down there, he had to act normal. No sudden changes, no revealing that the soul inside this body was different. If he slipped up now, people would notice.
And in this family? That meant death.
"Tell him I'll be out in five minutes," Lucien called out, letting his voice come out lazy, arrogant. The way the original Lucien would've spoken.
There was a pause, before the footsteps faded.
Lucien exhaled, rubbing his face. Right. Time to play the role.
The D'Arcy family was exactly how it was in his memories.
His father sat at the head of the table- Ambrose D'Arcy, he was a cold-blooded mafia boss who ruled half the city. A man who had power, respect, and zero patience for weakness. His sharp grey eyes barely flickered toward Lucien as he entered, like he was already bored of him.
Then there were the brothers.
Rafeal D'Arcy, he was the eldest, strong, disciplines, and cruel. The one set to inherit everything. Lucien's biggest threat.
Julius D'Arcy was the middle son, he was calculating, cunning and the quietest one, but also the most unpredictable.
And there was him. Lucien, the youngest, the black sheep. The disappointment.
"Lucien," his father began, his voice even. "I heard there was an....incident last night."
Lucien froze for half a second before the memories flashed in his mind. Right.
Last night. The fight. That's why his body felt like shit. The original Lucien had gotten drunk at some club, picked a fight with someone he shouldn't have, and gotten his ass handed to him. Again.
He could feel Rafeal watching him, unimpressed while Julius tried to hide his smirk behind his coffee cup.
Lucien had two choices, one was to defend himself, make excuses and try to convince his father he wasn't useless.
Option two was to play dumb, act like nothing mattered, maybe make them underestimate him.
The choice was obvious.
Lucien slouched into his seat, picking up a piece of toast like he didn't have a care in the world. "Dunno what you're talking about," he said, biting into it.
His father's gaze sharpened. "You came home covered in blood."
Lucien shrugged. "Not my blood."
Julius laughed under his breath, while Rafea just scowled, like he couldn't believe he was related to someone this pathetic.
And their father? He just sighed, already dismissing him.
Good.
He wanted them to think he was an idiot, someone not worth worrying about. The less they saw him as a threat, the more he had time to change his fate.
Lucien wasn't going to die. Not like in the novel.
If he wanted to survive, he needed power. connections. He needed to start building his empire before the protagonist could.
Step 1: Find the future power players, the ones who would rise in the story, he needed to get to them first.
Step 2: Befriend the rival heir- Alessandro Ravino. His supposes enemy. If he could get close to him, he could perhaps rewrite the entire mafia war.
Step 3: Learn how to use his magic properly. Shadow magic. He was the weakest in his family.
He had time. Not much, but enough.
Lucien leaned back into his chair, barely listening as Rafeal droned on and on about business. His father wasn't looking at him anymore. Julius still had that amused smirk on his lips, but he looked uninterested.
He had to start preparing, the first on his agenda would be step 3, and he knew just the right person for that but where to find him was the real issue.
He stood up from the table, looking at his father and brothers.
It was best they thought he was a reckless idiot, that way he could preserve his life till he got everything under control.
Lucien D'Arcy was supposed to be a doomed villain.. well according to fate.
Too bad for fate because he had no intention of playing that role.