My name is Jeffrey.
At least, I think it is.
I repeat it in my head like a prayer, afraid that if I stop, it will disappear. I was born in 2004. It's 2016 now. I'm twelve years old. These are facts-anchors I cling to so I don't drift away.
My father's name is Adrian. Hes the only person who will ever name me.
My mother, Maria, died in 2012.
After that, the house became quiet in the worst way. My father sank into himself, and I followed. Depression doesn't arrive loudly-it leaks into you, day by day, until breathing feels optional.
I wanted to die.
I tried.
I failed.
The last thing I remember clearly is deciding to take a shower. Hot water. Closed eyes. Then sleep.
When I woke up, the world had changed.
Two enormous figures hovered above me. A man. A woman. Or maybe they weren't huge-maybe I was small. I was wrapped in a blanket, my body light, unfamiliar.
The woman smiled softly.
"Would you look at him," she said. "He's our son."
The man leaned closer.
"I see it. He looks more like you than me."
Parents.
But not mine.
Panic clawed at my chest. I knew who I was. I knew my parents. I knew my life. This had to be a dream. I must have passed out in the shower.
Dreams end when you die.
So I waited.
Night came. I slipped out of the bed, crawling toward a tall window-but before I could reach it, someone lifted me up.
A maid.
She was well-dressed. The room behind her was enormous, glowing with wealth. Chandeliers. Silk curtains.
A rich family?
Royalty?
I was placed back into the bed. Trapped.
I hated it. I needed to wake up.
Eventually, I did what I always planned. I threw myself from the window.
And then-
I woke up again.
Another room. Smaller. Cracked walls. Another man and woman standing over me.
"Oh," the woman said, smiling weakly. "He's cute, isn't he, honey?"
The man's face twisted with rage.
"He looks nothing like me. You cheating bitch."
They started screaming. Plates shattered. The air felt heavy, violent, familiar.
This wasn't new for them.
They were poor. Exhausted. Broken.
A downgrade, I thought bitterly.
I told myself I'd wait until night again. End it. Wake up.
But something inside me hesitated.
What if... I didn't want to wake up?
What if I wanted to stay?
I had never had a mother and a father who stood in the same room before-even if they were toxic, even if they hated each other. Kids bring people together, don't they? Or at least... that's what I want to believe.
I don't care if I die in reality.
I just want to live once.
To feel warmth.
To belong.
To be loved-even imperfectly.
I don't want to return to a world where I live with a man who hates his own existence.
I want a life.
A real one.
So I close my eyes and accept it.
Let's see where this dream takes me.
Days passed.
At first, I counted them. Then I stopped. Time in this world doesn't rush-it drips. Slow. Heavy. Real.
Too real for a dream.
I've gathered enough information to understand the life I'm living.
My mother's name is Elizabeth Beffort. She cheats on my father-or at least, he believes she does. I don't even know if I am truly his son.
My father's name is Alexander Hamilton.
They call me Xavier Hamilton.
Strange names. None of them feel like they belong to me.
I try to speak, but something stops me. It's not just that I'm a baby. It feels deeper-like an invisible barrier wrapped around my mind. Even when they talk, I sometimes can't fully comprehend their words. Their language slips through me like water.
My father is almost always drunk. Yet I've learned something important: he isn't poor.
He's wealthy. Influential. Important.
And yet he chooses to live in this decaying house in this forgotten village. He and my mother agreed not to spoil me. Or maybe that's what I think they agreed on. Sometimes their words blur together.
Every second, I question this world.
It feels too consistent to be a dream. Too slow. Too detailed.
If I were honest, I would say I was transported to another world.
But that's not how reality works.
You don't just wake up somewhere else.
Right?
Today, I learned how to walk.
Not for some grand moment. Not for applause.
Just to reach the cookies my mother hid from my father.
No one saw my first steps.
And honestly... I didn't care.
Eight months have passed. I understand them clearly now. I've learned how to speak-but I choose not to.
If I speak too early, I might shatter this illusion.
And I don't want to ruin it.
Despite everything, they both love me. I can see it in the way they hold me, even after screaming at each other.
Maybe time will fix them.
Maybe I can fix them.
One night-
Alexander slammed his fist against the table.
"You cheated on me. I know it. You slept with some degenerate."
Elizabeth's voice trembled.
"I didn't cheat. How many times do I have to say it?"
"He's not my son. I'm going back to my other house."
"Oh, your cold little mansion?" she snapped. "Go, then. You coward."
The argument felt different this time. Sharper.
But I noticed something else.
My mother started carrying a book.
She held it often. Protected it.
One afternoon, I managed to open it.
I couldn't read a single word.
The pages were filled with strange symbols and unsettling drawings-circles, creatures, patterns that made my head ache if I stared too long.
I closed it.
I chose not to care.
"Xavier? Where are you?"
Why does she call for me like I can answer?
...Even though I can.
"Oh, there you are, honey. I forgot to feed you."
She laughed softly and held me close.
After that day, my parents made peace-at least for now.
That night, she laid me in bed and told me a story.
A knight fighting a dragon.
I didn't understand it.
Why fight the dragon?
What did it do?
Couldn't they have just ignored each other?
People here seem obsessed with those kinds of stories.
Heroes. Monsters. Glory.
But I've never seen a television. No phones. No screens.
I've never even seen outside this house.
It's bizarre.
Maybe they're hiding technology from me so I won't grow spoiled.
Or maybe...
It doesn't exist.
I've completed my first year as a baby.
That's everything I've learned.
And yet... something feels wrong.
My memory is becoming fuzzy.
There are gaps.
Holes where thoughts should be.
Sometimes I try to remember my old life-
Jeff.
The name feels distant.
Like it belongs to someone else.
And I'm starting to wonder...
Was that life the dream?
A year passed.
And the idea that this was a dream finally died.
This is real.
I am in a body that doesn't belong to me.
In a life that isn't mine.
What the hell is happening?
I can talk now. My parents were shocked by how quickly I learned. I walk, I understand, I observe. Physically, I'm three years old.
Mentally...
I'm thirteen.
I used to hear people talk about reincarnation. Other lives. Souls reborn. I never believed any of that nonsense.
But now?
Is this my punishment?
My sentence?
The last time I killed myself to "wake up," I ended up here.
So I reached a conclusion.
If I die again, the next life might be worse.
There might not be a next one at all.
And deep down... I know I'm not going back.
I spent the entire day in my room.
That night, my parents came in. They looked serious.
Alexander cleared his throat.
"Son... there's something you need to know."
Elizabeth pushed him aside.
"Oh, stop it. I'll tell him."
My father didn't look pleased.
Elizabeth knelt in front of me.
"So... I want to tell you a story. Like a bedtime story. But... it's important."
She hesitated.
"There was once a knight obsessed with treasure. He made a deal with the devil to make his dream come true."
Of course he did.
"He had to kill seven children... and obtain a dragon's heart."
That's not a bedtime story.
"What happened next?" I asked calmly.
"For the treasure to appear," she continued, "he used magic."
Magic.
Please don't say what I think you're about to say.
Alexander suddenly snapped.
"You don't have to tell him that blasphemy!"
Then he looked at me.
"We have a book for you. I want you to read something from it."
I didn't like where this was going.
Elizabeth flipped through the pages.
"Oh! This one is simple. Repeat after me."
She read aloud:
"For the love buried in your heart, I ask your mercy-cry for me."
This is so corny I might actually die from embarrassment.
Still, I repeated it.
"For the love buried in your heart, I ask your mercy-cry for me."
Silence.
Elizabeth frowned. "Hmm... nothing happened. I guess he doesn't have magical power."
"Can you be more positive?" Alexander muttered.
Then he leaned closer, voice softer.
"Son... you don't have to force anything. Even if you turn out to be what we fear... we're still your parents. That won't change. You belong somewhere."
Belong?
You're strangers.
This world is fake.
My name is not Xavier.
I screamed those words in my mind-
And suddenly my palms grew hot.
Water began dripping from them.
Alexander's eyes widened.
"That's my boy! You're doing it!"
"Lower your voice!" Elizabeth hissed. "This isn't our usual neighborhood, Alex."
Not our usual neighborhood?
Wait.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
Elizabeth froze.
"Oh! Haha... about that... we didn't tell you, did we?"
My head filled with questions.
I remembered my father being rich.
But my mother?
Alexander sighed. "You're still a child. You wouldn't understand what we're involved in."
I looked him directly in the eyes.
"Don't treat me like an idiot."
"Xavier! Language!" Elizabeth snapped.
Alexander studied me carefully.
"You... really are different."
"Of course I am," I replied. "I can talk. I can read. I understand everything. Stop pretending I'm like other children."
He hesitated.
"...Sometimes," he said slowly, "you act like an adult reborn as a child."
For a second, my heart stopped.
If I told them the truth, they might believe it. In a world with magic, reincarnation wouldn't sound insane.
But not yet.
I want to see where this goes.
Alexander finally exhaled.
"...Very well. If you want the truth, you deserve it."
He straightened his posture.
"I am the Prince of the Kingdom of Holmes."
Two years passed.
I am three years old now.
And for the first time, I look normal.
I blend in. I act my age when I need to. I laugh at the right moments. I trip when expected. I cry on cue.
My cover is perfect.
Last year, my mother hired a maid.
At first, I didn't care.
Until the day she arrived with her daughter.
My eyes widened the moment I saw her.
Blue hair.
Glasses.
That same composed posture.
That same... presence.
She was the maid from my first life.
From the rich family.
From the window I jumped out of.
No.
That's impossible.
...Isn't it?
Relax.
There's no way she would recognize me. I was an infant.
Still.
There is always room for doubt.
I can never lower my guard.
The maid spoke calmly.
"You must be Xavier."
I immediately ran and hid behind the hallway corner, acting shy. Small. Harmless.
I know how adorable I look. Soft hair. Wide eyes.
Weaponized innocence.
She sighed and turned to her daughter.
"Should I leave you with him? I have something else to attend to."
Her daughter crossed her arms.
"You promised you'd help me."
"You wanted to become a maid like me," the mother replied. "Learning independence is part of that."
"That's not helping. That's breaking your promise."
The maid smiled faintly. "I'll make it up to you."
She walked away.
"Oh, and Hatori - signal me when you head home. I don't like this neighborhood."
"Roger that," the daughter replied.
Hatori.
So that's her name.
And yes.
She's attractive.
Both of them are.
This world really likes to test me.
I retreated to my room to practice magic.
And to think.
"Hatori: Wait, Xavier!"
I ignored her and opened a book about explosion magic.
She entered anyway.
"You know it's rude to run from people."
She smiled gently.
Too gently.
I looked away, pretending to blush.
Inside, I was calculating.
She noticed the book in my hands.
"Oh... that's not a typical book for someone your age."
"I just find it interesting how-"
I stopped myself.
Careful.
Too articulate and she'll notice.
She knelt down.
"I know this might be confusing, but I'm your new babysitter."
What?
No.
Absolutely not.
I finally get freedom and now this?
"I don't need one," I thought.
She continued proudly, "I'm not just any babysitter. I'm Elephant Rank."
Elephant Rank?
A memory flashed in my mind.
My father's voice.
"I am the Prince of the Kingdom of Holmes."
My mother shouting his name.
His confession.
"Your mother is not someone I love. She was responsibility. Nothing more. But you... you carry royal blood. Every beat of your heart screams our name."
Wisdom.
That was our royal family name.
He admitted he had another family.
Another life.
He spoke of guilt.
Of regret.
Of running from consequences.
I understood him more than I wanted to.
We're not so different, Alexander.
We both cling to broken things.
When he left that night, my mother locked the door behind him and ran to her room to cry.
I felt nothing.
Just disgust.
A cheating mother.
A guilty prince.
And me.
Jeffrey Atlas.
Not Xavier Hamilton.
Not Wisdom.
My blood belongs to the parents I lost.
This world will not erase that.
"H-hello?" Hatori waved her hand in front of my face.
"You read magic books," she said. "So you must know about the ranks?"
"No."
Her eyes lit up.
"Oh! Then let me explain!"
She straightened proudly.
"There are five main ranks for both magic users and swordsmen. Same titles - different disciplines."
She began counting on her fingers.
"Lowest ranks: Deer and Horse."
"Mid ranks: Wolf and Leopard."
"Upper class: Elephant and Rhinoceros."
"Elite class: Bear and Tiger."
"And at the very top... Lion."
"Those are called Lionhearts."
Interesting.
She's Elephant.
Top three tiers.
Not bad.
"How do I know my rank?" I asked.
"You'll be officially evaluated at fourteen."
Fourteen.
Eleven more years.
My magic so far?
Sweaty palms.
Pathetic.
But...
That's perfect.
If I start training now...
If I master magic before the system recognizes me...
I could surpass expectations.
Control the board before they even know I'm playing.
I looked out the window.
Small village.
Fake smiles.
Hidden royalty.
Secret ranks.
And the same blue-haired maid from another life.
This is not coincidence.
This world is layered.
Structured.
Intentional.
I smiled slightly.
Fine.
If this is reality...
Then I'll master it.
And this time-
I won't be the one who lose . Not this time
I am five years old now, and for the first time, I can go outside like any normal child. But in this neighborhood, crawling with criminals and dangers lurking in every shadowed alley, stepping out is never safe. I know that one day, after Alexander dies, I will inherit the kingdom, and I wonder how that will feel. Being a king doesn't sound so bad. Growing up among the broken streets and wary eyes of the city has sharpened my awareness. I cannot stand people staring at me, knowing who I am and where I come from. This goes for my other goals too—becoming the number one knight and the strongest magic user.
In this world, everyone's life is shaped by two forces: their magical power and their choices. Even sword users rely on magic, though differently from pure magical users. Magical users form the backbone of society—they provide electricity, gas, and every convenience. Knights protect the people in wars, while magic users support them with healing, battle magic, and more. Those with low magical power take normal jobs, working in farms or stores, while the more talented meet at the adventure guild. These guilds send them on missions to collect rare plants, magical creatures, or other dangerous tasks. Most people with little education choose these roles, since they require less thinking, though they still teach tactical skills and discipline.
Magic also determines social rank, but society isn't just "survival of the strongest." Companies need educated magic users. For the royal family, ranks are even stricter—twelve in total, inspired by the Japanese swords favored by the kingdom's founders, legendary sword welders fascinated by their craftsmanship. The ranks start with the tiny dagger, then Yoroi-dōshi, Kodachi, Shinobigatana, Wakizashi, Uchigatana, Katana, Tachi, Chokutō, Tsurugi, Ōdachi, and Guntō, each growing stronger and deadlier.
I'm at the tachi level for now, while my father Alexander only appears at four in the morning. No one sees him break the perfect image he maintains, but behind the cover, he is the Guntō, the greatest rank. For me to take the throne one day, I have to shine brighter than any siblings I'm certain exist—after all, a king like him will have more than one family. I never understood his relationship with my mother until last night.
Elizabeth Glass, leopard rank, had a good position and education before meeting Alexander. From a well-off family, she should have had protection, but both were abusers. Alexander exploited her youth, killing her ex-boyfriend in cold blood, and Elizabeth vanished into this dilapidated world. I hate him for that alone, though the deeper reason might be that he's never been with me—beyond a brief lecture about my behavior, and sneaking to satisfy his own desires with a fifteen-year-old. I can't reconcile the fact that I have any connection with someone like him.
I sneak through the streets of the city, watching life as it flows around me. I envy them—the people with freedom, with choices I have not been allowed. And I wonder: if I die again, is there a worse fate waiting? I cannot tell, so I set my plan. When I turn twelve, I will train my magic and physical skills and join an adventure clan. Not for fun, not for prestige—joining will grant me access to the best schools and better paths than this cursed neighborhood.
Even now, loneliness gnaws at me. I spend my days wandering the city, listening to its rhythm, feeling it press against my nerves. I've heard of other kingdoms: Holmes, Alt, and Fentesy. Holmes is oppressive, choked by government corruption and suffering, a place where life is a constant grind. Alt offers better healthcare, more security, and fairer jobs. Fentesy is a fantasy land, full of elves and strange creatures. Not perfect, but better than the human kingdoms in some ways. It shows how prejudiced people can be, even in worlds they claim to admire.
My father loved Isekai games, the kind I despise from the very core of my being. "Hate" doesn't even capture it. And yet, I troll them anyway, for personal amusement—just to see the lives of the people I despise for very real reasons. The first ones I met left little impression, but as the wind hit my back, I let my thoughts drift. Where will my path take me?
Screams echoed through the narrow hallways of the neighborhood.
"That brat must die!"
"Catch him!"
"Don't let him run away!"
Eighteen people. Eighteen grown men chasing a five-year-old for stealing a paper roll — a forbidden one. The spell written inside it was invisibility.
In these streets, forbidden rolls meant money. Money meant power. And power meant survival.
I hadn't stolen it for fun. I used invisibility to gather information — to understand why my family kept lying to me. So far, all I had confirmed was this: Elizabeth's side, the Glass family, were degenerates hiding their shame. Alexander's side, the Wisdom family, were royalty. That explained part of the secrecy, but not all of it. Something didn't add up.
Elizabeth suspected I was investigating. She had started limiting how often I could leave the house.
Which meant I was getting closer.
I turned a corner and slammed into a wall.
No — not a wall. Just poor visibility. I gathered mana under my feet and used wind magic to propel myself upward, scaling the surface in one jump. Years of secret practice finally paying off.
Two of the eighteen reacted instantly. Different magic types. One used reinforcement to leap after me; another prepared a casting stance.
I dropped into an alley and slid under a pile of garbage. They ran past without noticing.
The roll was still in my hand.
I opened it quickly.
The symbols.
They were identical to the ones in the locked book at home — the one my mother never allowed