Lucien followed the servant toward the main hall with Elara gliding beside him like a beautiful venomous snake.
His heart was doing gymnastics.
Oh I’m fucked.
Royal messenger on day three of my isekai life?
The original Lucien probably would’ve already tried to poison the guy’s tea out of sheer spite.
Now I have to play reformed child prodigy while my evil sister watches for any slip-up.
Truck-kun, you absolute bastard, I hope you’re happy.
The main hall was even more imposing than usual.
Torches with eerie blue flames (definitely shadow-infused) cast dramatic lighting across the Nightshade banners.
Duke Reginald stood tall and imposing, Duchess Isolde at his side like a perfectly poised dagger.
The royal messenger—a stern knight in gold-trimmed armor—held a sealed scroll with the royal crest.
Elara curtsied gracefully.
Lucien quickly copied a polite child bow, trying not to look like a delivery boy who just got promoted to nobility overnight.
The messenger’s voice boomed.
“His Highness the Crown Prince extends an invitation to the Nightshade family for a private pre-Gala reception at the palace next week.
He specifically requests the presence of the younger generation—Lady Elara and Young Master Lucien—to foster… future relations.”
Future relations?
Yeah, right.
In the novel this was where the prince started sniffing around Elara while Lucien tried to sabotage everything and ended up looking like a rabid gremlin.
Oh god, I’m the family chihuahua that bites everyone and then gets put down.
Duke Reginald accepted the scroll with a measured nod.
“We are honored.
Please convey our deepest gratitude to His Highness.”
As the messenger departed, the Duke turned to his children.
His gaze lingered especially long on Lucien.
“This is an important opportunity.
Elara, you will represent our house’s elegance.
Lucien…” He paused.
“You will not embarrass us.”
No pressure.
Just casually attending a royal event where one wrong word gets my ten-year-old ass branded as a traitor.
Cool cool cool.
I miss traffic jams.
“Yes, Father,” Lucien said sweetly, channeling every ounce of customer service voice he had from his old delivery days.
“I’ll be on my best behavior.”
Elara’s lips curved into a dangerous smile.
“How delightful.
Perhaps my dear brother can practice not accusing random guests of theft this time.”
Oof.
She’s still testing me.
If I flip her off right now, does that count as character development or just natural sibling behavior?
The Duchess placed a hand on Lucien’s shoulder, her nails digging in just enough to remind him who held the leash.
“We have much to prepare.
Lucien, your magical control has improved remarkably.
See that it stays that way.
The palace has eyes everywhere.”
Later that evening, back in his lavish room, Lucien flopped face-first onto the giant bed and screamed into a pillow.
This world’s power system is rigged!
Shadow magic for subtle murder, political marriages for alliances, and a literal Saintess with plot armor showing up to humble all the nobles.
And I’m the designated “most evil spawn” who’s supposed to get dramatically executed while monologuing.
Not today, Satan—er, Truck-kun.
He rolled over and stared at the ceiling, mind racing through the novel’s lore.
The academy wasn’t just school—it was where bloodlines clashed, secret romances bloomed, and ancient artifacts got yoinked by the heroine.
The Nightshades’ shadow contracts gave them an edge in espionage and curses, but it also made them natural targets for the church’s “purification” campaigns.
One big misstep and the whole family could be branded heretics.
A soft knock interrupted his spiraling.
“Young Master?” It was the same maid from earlier.
“The Duchess asked me to bring you special nightshade tea.
For… calming the nerves, she said.”
Lucien eyed the steaming cup suspiciously.
Calming the nerves or testing if I’ll still chug poison like the original gremlin me?
Oh I’m so fucked.
This family drinks suspicion for breakfast.
He took the cup with a polite smile.
“Thank you.”
The moment the maid left, he carefully set it aside.
No way was he drinking anything from this household until he learned how to detect toxins.
Baby steps.
Step one: don’t die from tea.
Step two: don’t die at the palace.
Step three: somehow stop my family from becoming public enemy number one.
He wandered over to the window.
In the moonlit garden below, Elara was once again whispering with shady servants.
Shadows curled unnaturally around her fingers as she practiced.
She’s already plotting.
Of course she is.
Meanwhile I’m over here trying not to have a mental breakdown in a child’s body.
If the heroine shows up early I might just hug her and beg for protection.
“Please miss Saintess, adopt this former delivery boy, I’ll carry your books!”
Lucien laughed quietly to himself, the sound slightly unhinged even to his own ears.
Tomorrow would bring more lessons, more tests, and the looming dread of the royal reception.
For now, he whispered to the empty room:
“Stay calm.
You’ve read the novel.
You know the routes.
Just… don’t be the villain.”
Yeah.
I’m definitely fucked.