Not once in my entire life did I ever imagine something like this was possible, being reincarnated into another world.
A world filled of nobles, knights, and probley even royal. A world so different, and yet so… painfully familiar.
The golden sun hung lazily in a sky brushed with blue, casting a warm glow over the Valebran estate, a grand house sitting atop a hill like a crowned jewel. Its white walls gleamed with pride, and its tall towers scraped the heavens.
A symbol of its noble might. A family known throughout the land for their powerful bloodline, their unwavering strength, and above all esles, their cruelty.
A family cursed by the pride in their own veins.
And inside that same house… I wandered its halls. With small footsteps echoing faintly across the area. I was just a six-year-old boy. My name is—no… was Sakura.
That was the name I held in my previous life. If you could even call that existence "living." A life filled with neglect, loneliness, and pain. A life that ended too early… or maybe just at the right time.
But for some reason, some cruel twist of fate, I was given a seconed chance. Reincarnated into a world not my own, and born as the third son of the Valebran family.
My name now is Machel Valebran, youngest of three sons.
My father, Lord Darius Valebran, is a cold, powerful man, feared on the battlefield and respected in court. He rules this house like a general commands his army, with discipline, control, and zero tolerance for weakness.
My mother, Lady Selene Valebran, came from a noble bloodline herself. Beautiful, composed, and distant. A woman who married for politics, not love. I can't even remember the last time she looked at me like I mattered.
And then there are my brothers, Kaien, the eldest, and Roderic, the second son. Kaien is considered the perfect heir, the pride of the Valebrans. Roderic, the second sword, always trailing just behind Kaien, desperate to prove he's not second-rate. And then there's me—Machel. The "other one." The mistake.
Even though I was born into this prestigious household, I've always felt… out of place. Different. It's not just by the way they treat me—it's by how I look, too.
None of my features resemble any of my family. My father's deep brown hair and eyes like polished amber… my mother's golden hair and icy blue gaze… even my brothers inherited something from them.
But me? My hair is ashen silver, almost white under the sun. And my eyes are a stormy gray, clouded, unreadable. Like a stranger snuck into the bloodline.
And maybe… that's exactly what I am.
As I wandered around the estate, I brushed the long bangs from my face, wondering again if this strange appearance was because I had been reincarnated. But even if that were the case… shouldn't I have inherited something from this family? Anything?
Instead, I stick out like a blemish.
The manor itself is enormous, far too big for someone like me. Every hallway stretches on like a cathedral, and the ceilings loom like distant skies. I sometimes wonder if I feel small because I am small… or because they make me feel that way.
I was just about to ascend the stairs to the second floor when I saw her.
My mother.
Standing at the top of the staircase, dressed in her usual elegant gown, looking down at me with those cold, glassy eyes of hers. She didn't say a word. She hadn't spoken to me in over a year.
I bowed. And I thought I did well—straight back, deep bend, just as I'd been taught.
But she didn't acknowledge it. Not even giving a glance.
She turned and continued down the corridor, her personal maids trailing silently behind her.
That was… normal.
"Is it possible," I whispered to myself, "that she hates me that much?"
I never knew for sure. But I remember overhearing one of the maids talking that once when I was just a baby. They said I never cried. Not even once after I was born.
Instead, I just… stared. Wide-eyed. Silent. Like I already understood the world would never love me. Even if I cried.
By the time I was two, I was walking. By four, I was reading and writing, sitting beside my brothers during lessons. And now, at six, I wander this house like a ghost that no one sees.
Not even my father calls on me. He spends his time either commanding soldiers or training my brothers in the art of the sword. Every son of Valebran is expected to become a warrior.
But not me.
When I'm brought into the sparring yard, my brothers crush me. If the blade doesn't break me, then their fists would.
Kaien, the eldest, never once looked me in the eye. He's four years older, taller, stronger, better at everything. The only thing he's ever said to me was—
"You don't belong here."
That was the first thing anyone ever truly said to me in this life.
Then there's Roderic. Two years older. Smarter with his words, sharper with his fists. A snake in noble's clothing. He bullies me behind closed doors, always careful no one sees. In the training grounds, he humiliates me. Even when the sparing match is over, he keeps on hitting.
Just like back in my old life.
No matter how different they look from the ones I knew back then… their cruelty is the same.
And Father—he only values one thing: results. If you can't produce them, you don't even exist to him.
That's the way of the Valebran household.
That's the way of my new life.
I climbed the stairs to the second floor, heading back toward my room, when I suddenly tripped—my foot caught on something. I crashed to the floor with a painful thud.
I groaned, rolling onto my side, and when I looked up…
He was standing there.
Roderic.
Wearing that smug, perfect grin of his.
"Well, well, if it isn't the family's little damn good fo noting ," he sneered. "Tripping over your own two feet again, Machel?"
I stayed quiet, and slowly rose to my feet, and bowed.
But he didn't let me leave.
"What? Too good to answer now?" he scoffed, slamming his hand against the wall, cornering me. "Maybe I need to beat some manners into you."
Before I could speak, his fist slammed into my stomach.
Hard.
The air rushed out of me like a deflated balloon. I fell to the floor, clutching my stomach and gasping.
"You're pathetic," he said coldly. "I barely even hit you."
He turned to leave and then Kaien appeared.
Roderic greeted him like nothing happened.
"Oh, hey brother. I was just having a little chat with Machel over here."
Kaien didn't even glance at me. "I wonder? Why do you even waste your time playing around with such disposable trash?"
"You're right," Roderic laughed. "Better to use it to perfect my swordplay instead."
Together, they walked off—just like that.
And me?
I stayed there on the floor.
My eyes were full of tears. Not because of the pain. But because even in a diffrent word.
Some things just never change.