At 2:17 a.m., Cassian was still awake.
His room was dark except for the pale light of his phone. Outside, rain hammered against the windows, and the occasional flash of lightning illuminated the walls.
On his screen was a fantasy novel he had been reading for hours.
"Honestly, if I ever got reincarnated into a fantasy world, I'd make sure I had a system," he muttered, scrolling through another chapter. "Give me a powerful bloodline, a beautiful world, and enough strength to make my enemies regret ever looking at me."
He chuckled at his own words.
"Well, a man can dream."
His stomach growled.
Cassian glanced at the time and sighed. He had run out of snacks earlier that evening, and now hunger was refusing to let him enjoy his novel.
He got out of bed, grabbed his jacket, and headed outside to find something to eat.
The rain had grown heavier.
Streetlights reflected off the wet road, creating long golden streaks across the asphalt. Cassian pulled his hood over his head and hurried along the pavement, thinking about the story he had just been reading.
He barely noticed the headlights approaching.
A blaring horn shattered the silence.
Cassian turned.
For one brief moment, he saw the vehicle speeding toward him.
Then everything went dark.
Pain.
That was the first thing Cassian felt.
It was an unbearable, suffocating pain that seemed to come from every part of his body. His chest felt as though someone had placed a boulder on it, while something deep inside him throbbed with a strange, burning sensation.
He tried to open his eyes.
His eyelids felt impossibly heavy.
Where am I?
The question barely formed in his mind before another wave of pain washed over him.
He tried to move his fingers, but his body responded sluggishly.
"Young Master? Young Master Damon?"
A distant voice reached his ears.
"Please, open your eyes. The physician said you must not remain unconscious for too long."
Cassian frowned.
Young Master?
Damon?
Who the hell was Damon?
He forced his eyes open.
The first thing he saw was an unfamiliar ceiling decorated with intricate golden patterns. Crystal lamps hung overhead, casting a warm glow across a room far more luxurious than anything he had ever owned.
Heavy curtains framed enormous windows. Ornate furniture stood against the walls, and a strange symbol was embroidered into the bedsheets.
This wasn't his room.
Actually, this wasn't even his world.
He turned his head slightly and immediately regretted it. Pain shot through his skull, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut.
"Young Master!"
Footsteps hurried toward him.
An elderly man wearing a dark robe leaned over the bed. His face was lined with worry, and a small crystal pendant hung around his neck.
"Thank the heavens! You've finally awakened."
Cassian stared at him.
"Who... are you?"
The old man's expression changed.
"Young Master, it's me, Elder Rowan. Do you not recognize me?"
Cassian said nothing.
Elder Rowan exchanged a worried glance with the servant standing nearby.
"Perhaps the injury affected his memory," the servant whispered.
Injury?
Cassian swallowed painfully.
He tried to sit up, but the moment he moved, a sharp sensation spread through his chest. It felt as though invisible needles were piercing his veins.
He collapsed against the pillow, gasping.
"Don't move!" Elder Rowan ordered. "Your mana circulation is still dangerously unstable."
Mana?
Cassian stared at him.
What kind of hospital was this?
And why was this old man talking about mana as if it were something people actually possessed?
Before he could ask another question, a sudden wave of dizziness struck him.
Then the memories began.
They came in fragments at first.
A vast estate surrounded by towering walls.
A family crest engraved into the gates.
A ceremonial hall filled with nobles dressed in extravagant robes.
A young boy standing before a glowing magical crystal while dozens of people watched.
Laughter.
Whispers.
Disappointment.
Then a voice, cold and mocking.
"Look at him. Such an enormous mana reserve, yet he can barely control it."
Another voice answered.
"He's the patriarch's son, isn't he? What a disgrace to the Jubo Clan."
The memories grew clearer.
A young man with dark hair and sharp features stood before a group of students. His expression was filled with humiliation and anger.
Across from him stood another young noble, his face twisted into a cruel smile.
Gassi.
The name surfaced instinctively.
Gassi had tormented Damon for years.
At the academy, he had made Damon the subject of countless jokes. He mocked his poor magical control, challenged him in front of other students, and constantly reminded him that possessing a powerful mana reserve meant nothing if he couldn't use it.
But this time, Gassi had gone too far.
The memory shifted.
A magical academy courtyard.
Students gathered around them.
Gassi raised his hand, and a powerful spell formed in the air.
Damon tried to defend himself.
His mana surged.
Pain exploded through his body.
His control failed completely.
The energy inside him spiraled out of control, tearing through his mana pathways as Gassi's attack struck him.
Damon fell.
The surrounding students screamed.
And then...
Nothing.
Cassian's eyes flew open.
He was breathing heavily, sweat covering his forehead.
"What... was that?"
Elder Rowan leaned closer.
"Young Master? What is it?"
Cassian ignored him.
The memories were too vivid. Too detailed. He could remember things he had never experienced, recognize faces he had never seen, and feel emotions that didn't belong to him.
He slowly raised his trembling hands.
They were not his hands.
His fingers were longer. His skin was smoother. Even the shape of his arms was different.
A terrible realization began to form in his mind.
"No way."
He pushed himself upright despite the pain.
"Bring me a mirror."
Elder Rowan hesitated.
"Young Master, you should be resting."
"A mirror. Now!"
Something in his voice made the old man obey.
A servant hurried away and returned moments later with a polished silver mirror.
Cassian took it with trembling hands.
The face staring back at him was handsome, with dark hair, defined features, and striking eyes. However, his complexion was pale, and his expression was haunted by exhaustion.
He knew that face.
Not from his own life.
From the memories flooding his mind.
Damon Jubo.
Eighteen years old.
Son of the patriarch of the Jubo Clan.
Heir to a powerful family.
And one of the most ridiculed young nobles in the Imperial Academy of Arcane Arts.
Cassian lowered the mirror.
For several seconds, he couldn't speak.
Then he let out a weak, disbelieving laugh.
"You're kidding me."
He looked around the luxurious room, then back at his reflection.
"I was hit by a vehicle... and now I'm in another world?"
Nobody answered.
The elderly physician watched him with growing concern.
Cassian closed his eyes.
He remembered the rain.
The headlights.
The impact.
The darkness.
He had died.
There was no other explanation.
Somehow, his consciousness had crossed into another world and awakened inside the body of a young man who had been on the verge of death.
And judging by the memories now occupying his mind, Damon Jubo's life had been miserable.
Born into a powerful clan, Damon should have been blessed with extraordinary magical talent.
Instead, his enormous mana reserve had become a curse.
He possessed more mana than many accomplished young mages, yet he couldn't control it properly. Every attempt to cast a spell caused severe pain, leaving him exhausted or unconscious.
His peers mocked him.
His rivals despised him.
And Gassi had made a habit of humiliating him whenever an opportunity presented itself.
But the worst part was the feeling buried deep within Damon's memories.
A feeling that something was wrong.
His weakness didn't feel natural.
There was something hidden beneath the pain, something Damon had never been able to understand.
Cassian rubbed his temples.
"Wonderful," he muttered. "I die on Earth and wake up inside the body of a magical failure."
He paused.
"At least the room is nice."
It was a pathetic attempt at humor, but he needed something to keep himself from panicking.
Then another thought struck him.
If this was a world of magic, there had to be a way to become stronger.
Perhaps he could learn to control Damon's mana. Perhaps he could use his knowledge of fantasy stories to survive.
He had been given a second chance.
He wasn't going to waste it.
But first, he needed to understand the condition of this body.
"Old man," Cassian said, turning toward Elder Rowan. "Tell me exactly what's wrong with me."
Elder Rowan's expression became serious.
"Your mana reserves have always been unusually large, Young Master. However, your control has remained extremely poor since your awakening ceremony."
"Awakening ceremony?"
"Yes. It was the day your magical potential was revealed."
The old physician hesitated before continuing.
"Your mana pathways became unstable during the ceremony. Since then, your body has struggled to regulate the energy within it. Whenever you attempt to use magic, your mana surges beyond your control."
Cassian listened carefully.
"And the incident at the academy?"
"Gassi's attack aggravated your condition. Your mana circulation collapsed, and your body suffered a severe backlash. For a time, we believed you would not survive."
Cassian's fingers tightened around the bedsheets.
Gassi.
The name alone brought a flash of anger.
According to the memories, Gassi had intended to injure and humiliate Damon, not necessarily kill him. But the attack had triggered the dangerous instability already lurking inside Damon's body.
That distinction didn't make the situation any better.
Cassian had inherited a life filled with enemies, a body that could barely function, and a magical condition that might kill him if he made one wrong move.
He took a slow breath.
"How long until I recover?"
"That depends on whether your mana circulation stabilizes. You must avoid casting spells until your condition improves."
"And if it doesn't improve?"
Elder Rowan looked away.
The silence was answer enough.
Cassian leaned back against the pillow.
For the first time since awakening, genuine fear settled over him.
He had escaped death on Earth only to discover that death was still waiting for him here.
Except this time, it might come from within his own body.
He closed his eyes.
No. He refused to accept that.
If someone had been born with an enormous reserve of mana, there had to be a reason. If that mana was impossible to control, there had to be a solution.
He just needed time.
And time was the one thing he couldn't afford to lose.
Suddenly, a strange sensation stirred inside his mind.
A faint electronic chime rang through his consciousness.
Ding!
Cassian's eyes snapped open.
A translucent blue screen appeared before him.
He stared at it.
Several lines of glowing text materialized in the air.
[UNIVERSAL SYSTEM ACTIVATED.]
[HOST IDENTITY: DAMON JUBO]
[SOUL ORIGIN: EARTH]
[SOUL TRANSFER: SUCCESSFUL]
[PHYSICAL CONDITION: CRITICAL]
[MANA RESERVES: ABNORMALLY HIGH]
[MANA CONTROL: SEVERELY DEFICIENT]
[WARNING: UNSTABLE MANA CIRCULATION DETECTED.]
[FOREIGN MAGICAL INTERFERENCE DETECTED.]
[ANALYSIS INCOMPLETE.]
[CURRENT RISK: CRITICAL MANA OVERLOAD.]
[PRIMARY RECOMMENDATION: STABILIZE MANA CIRCULATION BEFORE ATTEMPTING MAGICAL DEVELOPMENT.]
Cassian stared at the screen.
For a moment, he forgot about the pain.
Then a slow smile spread across his face.
"A system?"
He almost laughed.
Of all the ridiculous things he had joked about on Earth, this was the one that had actually come true.
He had transmigrated into another world, inherited the body of a noble heir, and awakened a system.
But his smile faded as he reread one particular line.
FOREIGN MAGICAL INTERFERENCE DETECTED.
His expression hardened.
"What does that mean?"
The system offered no immediate answer.
He tried to focus on the message, but the screen remained unchanged.
Foreign magical interference.
Someone—or something—had interfered with Damon's mana.
Was it connected to his awakening ceremony?
Had someone deliberately caused his condition?
And if so, why?
The memories provided no answers.
Cassian looked toward the window. Beyond the glass, the estate's gardens stretched into the darkness, illuminated by the faint glow of magical lamps.
Somewhere in this world, people were already making plans, fighting for power, and protecting their secrets.
And he had just inherited a place in their game.
He was Damon Jubo now.
The weak heir.
The laughingstock.
The young man whose own body had nearly killed him.
But Cassian knew something the original Damon had never known.
His life had not necessarily been ruined by fate.
Someone might have ruined it deliberately.
He clenched his fists.
"All right," he whispered. "If this is my second life, then I'm going to live it properly."
The system flickered once before disappearing.
Cassian settled against the pillows, exhausted but determined.
He needed to recover.
He needed to understand his mana.
And most importantly, he needed to discover who had interfered with his body before they finished what they had started.
Far away, within another noble estate, a young man stood before his father.
Gassi lowered his head.
"Damon survived," he reported. "But his condition is worse than ever. He probably won't be able to use magic for a long time."
His father remained silent for several seconds.
Then he smiled faintly.
"Let him struggle."
Gassi looked up.
"Father?"
"The boy has spent his entire life embarrassing the Jubo name. Perhaps this setback will finally teach him his place."
Gassi nodded, satisfied.
Neither father nor son knew that something unexpected had happened.
They believed Damon Jubo was still the same broken young man they had always known.
They had no idea that a soul from another world had awakened inside his body.
And they certainly had no idea that the interference they had carefully concealed was no longer behaving as intended.
In the Jubo estate, Damon slowly closed his eyes.
His second life had begun.
And somewhere deep inside his unstable mana, something was changing.
Something that could either save him...
Or destroy him completely.