I Am The Greatest Femboy Mage

For six generations, the Valcourt family staff sat in the vault, feared and utterly useless—a “cursed” heirloom that broke every wielder who tried to force it to submission. Everyone assumed it demanded blood, sacrifice, tragedy. The kind of thing legends are made of. It did not demand any of that. Long story short, when the failed spare heir Elian Valcourt gets handed the staff nobody wanted, he expects embarrassment, the same he had been forced to go through his entire life. What he gets is a smug, ancient magical intelligence informing him that the seal responds to aesthetic harmony, not willpower—and that every ancestor before him died mediocre because none of them had the nerve to actually try being different for once. In other words, the sword made you more powerful the better dressed you are, and how scandalous the outfit was. Now Elian is stuck relearning magic from scratch, his power scaling directly with how fearlessly he commits to a look the entire kingdom finds baffling. All the while war councils, rival academies, and prophecy-obsessed cultists all treat this as completely standard sword-and-sorcery business. They said the staff was cursed. Turns out, someone had mistranslated the word 'audacious' along the way. — Description from novelcodex.org