At the Nemula Family Mansion

  From a room on the second floor, a man's agonized scream suddenly tore through the air, causing the servants outside to exchange quiet sighs of pity. Just yesterday, the young master—known for his warmth and cheerful laughter—had greeted them as he always did. But now, he was being mercilessly beaten by his wife’s lover over a mere ruby ring, an insignificant trinket in the wealth of the Nemula family.

  For the servants, it was a heartbreaking sight. Yesterday’s events had shaken them deeply. Unlike most nobles, this young master was different—kind, carefree, and unburdened by arrogance. Such qualities were rare among aristocratic children of his age.

  Though they often scorned the Nemula household outwardly, in their hearts, they held a silent reverence for this so-called "false young master."

  Inside the dimly lit room, time seemed to blur.

  Sona slowly opened his eyes, struggling against the lingering haze of unconsciousness. He had no idea how long he had been out, but the dull, throbbing pain in his body reminded him of everything. With effort, he pushed himself up, resting against the headboard, his gaze falling upon the ruby ring. A storm of emotions flickered in his eyes as memories flooded back like an unstoppable tide.

  Three years ago, he was not Sona.

  Back then, he was just Sen—an ordinary high school student. That year, on Christmas Eve, news stations were consumed with reports of students mysteriously disappearing across the city. And on that very same day, Sen had vanished without a trace.

  When he woke up, he found himself in a foreign world. But unlike the others who had been transported with him—those who were blessed with beauty, power, and destined greatness—Sona was left with nothing. No extraordinary abilities, no guiding system, nothing but his own fragile existence. Cast adrift, he was forced to live as a beggar, scavenging through garbage, fighting off other street children for scraps of food, struggling to survive each passing day.

  The only thing of value he possessed was a peculiar ruby ring. At first, he had tried to sell it, hoping to trade it for a meal. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remove it. It clung to his skin as if it had become a part of him.

  Desperate and starving, he collapsed in the pouring rain, convinced he would die nameless and forgotten in this cruel world. Just then, a sleek, vintage Atlantic car pulled up before him. An old man in a tailcoat stepped out first, moving with practiced elegance. At a woman's command from inside the car, he approached and lifted Sen’s frail body from the ground.

  Panic surged through Sen’s veins, but days of hunger had drained him of all strength. He could barely move, let alone resist.

  Inside the luxurious car, a mysterious woman regarded him with quiet intensity, her gaze locked onto the ruby ring on his finger. Curiosity and calculation flickered in her eyes. She asked his name, but delirious and half-conscious, his answer came out in little more than a broken whisper.

  "S...o...n...a...!"

  Before he could even finish the word, his arms went limp, and darkness swallowed him whole.

  "Sona? What a beautiful name."

  The woman, half of her face hidden behind a delicate veil, smiled enigmatically.

  Since that day, "Sona" had become the name the Nemula family used to call him. It wasn't that he didn’t want to explain—he did—but these foolish nobles had no desire to listen. To them, merely breathing the same air as him was already revolting, let alone acknowledging his words.

  At the Nemula estate, life was nothing short of a waking nightmare. In his previous world, Sona had never lifted a finger to labor, yet here, he toiled from dawn until midnight. No matter how exhausted he was or how often he was beaten, he forced himself to complete every task assigned to him, knowing that defiance would only bring even more brutal punishment—punishment that would leave him teetering on the edge of life and death.

  At night, the bitter wind howled through the gaps in the old wooden walls, causing the tattered curtains to whip violently in the air. The gusts slammed against the rotting planks, creating an eerie, unsettling sound that echoed through the cold, empty room. By the window, a lone figure sat, lost in thought. Sona often found himself gazing at the moon, his eyes filled with longing. A single question echoed in his heart—was his family safe? A thousand unanswered questions crawled through his mind like restless ants, never giving him a moment’s peace. Many times, he wanted to cry, but he refused to shed tears. He was a man, and a man did not weep.

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  He thought this wretched life would continue unchanged, but little did he know that an even greater storm was looming on the horizon.

  In the land of Terra, three great noble families controlled over 40% of the region’s core economy: the Nemula, the Musapha, and the Monarch households. These merchant dynasties wielded immense power, so much so that even the ruling lord of Terra tread carefully around them. The world whispered many things about these three houses—none of them good.

  The Nemula family built their fortune through the trade and mining of precious gems, extracted from dungeons and forbidden ruins where no sane person dared to venture, places teeming with monstrous creatures. Yet, rumors persisted that their wealth was not solely built on gemstones. Whispers of their involvement in forbidden magic—dark, cursed arts that twisted the soul and defied the natural order—refused to fade. But the family's power was so overwhelming that even the ruling lord had no choice but to turn a blind eye.

  (Forbidden magic, or dark arts, refers to spellcraft so dangerous and corrupting that its use is outlawed due to the harm it brings to both the caster and the world itself.)

  The Musapha family was known as the largest manufacturer of weapons and armor in Terra, supplying soldiers and mages alike. But that was merely the surface of their empire. Beneath this legitimate front, they were the most prolific traffickers of illegal slaves, smuggling people from outside the region. Their alliances with the Nemula and Monarch families were not out of loyalty but cold, calculated pragmatism—using their influence to grease the wheels of their illicit trade. The Musapha were also the primary suppliers of human test subjects to the Nemula family, who needed them for their gruesome experiments in forbidden magic. It was no secret that both slave trade and the use of dark magic were outlawed across all nations, yet in the shadows, the business flourished.

  The Monarch family was no different. Their power stemmed from alchemy and pharmaceuticals, controlling the largest potion supply in Terra. But their true influence came from their deep ties with the other two families. They provided the Nemula family with the necessary elixirs and reagents for their dark rituals, ensuring that forbidden magic could be practiced in secret. Their wealth and influence, like the others, were built on deception, cruelty, and the blood of the innocent.

  Nemula Merles—this woman was the one who saved Sona’s life that day, yet she was also the very force that brought misfortune upon him. She was his mother-in-law, the wife of Nemula Hon, the infamous gemstone tycoon.

  If someone were to ask Sona, "Who do you fear most in that house?" his answer, without hesitation, would be the eerie woman named Merles. Why? Because if her daughter was reckless and foolish, then Merles was the complete opposite—a woman of terrifying cunning. Even her husband, a man who had weathered decades in the ruthless world of business, would fall meek and obedient at the mere mention of her name or the slightest demand from her lips.

  Sona had never truly seen her face. It was always half-hidden behind a delicate veil, revealing only her mouth. She was a shadow draped in black, an ever-present enigma. Every time Sona brought her water or food, he couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that she was watching him—her gaze sharp, unreadable. And perhaps, just perhaps, the corners of her lips would curve into a knowing smirk.

  The more it happened, the deeper his unease grew. A quiet dread settled in his chest, whispering warnings he could not yet decipher.

  And in the end, his instincts proved right.

  The Coming-of-Age Ceremony

  The coming-of-age ceremony was a grand and sacred tradition, an event reserved exclusively for the aristocracy. It was a rite of passage, held only for the children of noble families when they reached the age of eighteen. On this occasion, the host would invite fellow nobles to share in their joy and announce their future plans, solidifying their family’s status and ambitions.

  That morning, Sona had been forced to wake at the ungodly hour of three a.m. to clean, cook, and prepare for the grand banquet. While sweeping the kitchen floor, he overheard the maids whispering about the main figures of tonight’s celebration. Aside from the youngest daughter of the Nemula family, who had just come of age, there was mention of another mysterious figure. Yet no matter how hard Sona tried to piece it together, he simply couldn’t figure out who it might be. The Nemula family had three children—two sons and one daughter—but both sons had long since passed that age. Then who else could it be?

  After a moment of idle speculation, Sona merely shrugged. It was none of his concern. With that, he returned to his work.

  That evening, the grand hall of the Nemula estate buzzed with lively chatter and laughter, the voices of nobles weaving through the air like a melody of indulgence. Then, suddenly, a poised, commanding voice rang out from behind them, slicing through the noise like a blade. Conversations halted, and all turned toward the source.

  Standing at the podium, Merles delivered a speech, her words measured yet powerful, carrying the weight of authority. Then, as if drawn by some unseen force, a figure emerged from the cluster of young noblemen below the stage.

  She was a vision of breathtaking beauty—regal, untouchable, exuding a presence that demanded admiration. Every step she took was deliberate, poised, each movement radiating an air of noble arrogance. She lifted her chin, eyes gleaming with quiet self-satisfaction, as she ascended the stage to stand beside her mother.

  Time seemed to blur, the moment stretching into eternity. And then, as Merles’ speech came to an end, a wave of applause surged through the hall like thunder, echoing against the grand walls of the estate.

  Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Sona remained completely unaware of the spectacle unfolding outside. He was too busy stuffing his mouth with leftovers, blissfully oblivious to the silent figure watching him from the shadows.

  A sudden chill prickled at the back of his neck. Instinctively, he turned—only to find himself face-to-face with an older man, his weathered face etched with deep lines of disapproval. The man’s brows furrowed as he tossed a neatly folded black suit toward Sona.

  “Put it on and follow me.”

  There was no room for argument. Without hesitation, Sona obeyed, stepping into the unknown without so much as a question.