An Heir No More
Kyle Berwen let out a long sigh as he lay on the bed in his Academy dormitory. His body felt like a corpse after pushing himself too hard, and exhaustion weighed on him heavily, but that wasn’t what had drawn the sigh from his lips.
“My luck really is rotten…”
The true source of his frustration was the state of this body—Kyle Berwen’s body. It was far worse than he had anticipated. Not in terms of physical condition or talent, but the very existence of “Kyle Berwen” himself.
When he had first possessed this body, he had thought it wasn’t so bad. The physical state was trash, sure, but the fact that this body belonged to the Berwen family had seemed like a massive advantage. Berwen—one of the Empire’s greatest noble houses, wielding influence that few could rival even within the continent’s strongest nation. Their power and wealth were so immense that only the imperial family itself could be said to stand clearly above them.
That was why he had been pleased. He had believed he could wield at least some of the Berwen family’s authority. In the end, however, that had been nothing but a hollow hope. Kyle Berwen might have carried the Berwen name, but he was not truly one of them. Or rather, he had been made so.
There was no secret of birth, no illegitimate status. He was the legitimate firstborn son of the family head’s first wife—the rightful heir in every sense. Under normal circumstances, he would have lived a life of comfort and privilege, free of worry until the day he died. But Kyle’s life had never been smooth.
His mother had passed away not long after giving birth to him. She had always been frail, and the strain of childbirth had worsened her condition. After years of illness, she finally succumbed. Kyle had mourned her sincerely, but the head of the Berwen family had not. Instead of grieving, he had immediately taken a new wife—as if he had been waiting for the opportunity. And in truth, he had. The second wife already had a child by then, a son who bore an unmistakable resemblance to the family head. A son only a year younger than Kyle.
The head had already been preparing his backup plan while his first wife still lived. If Kyle’s maternal family had remained strong, none of this would have happened, but by then they had suffered a series of misfortunes and their power had sharply declined. In an instant, Kyle’s position within the family became precarious.
He was not openly mistreated—he still bore the Berwen name—but the atmosphere around him had changed. Kyle had not sat idle. He had worked tirelessly to improve his standing, to prove that he was worthy of becoming the next head of the family. Unfortunately, his abilities had never been exceptional. Neither in magic nor in martial arts had he ever risen above the ordinary. Even then, his position as the eldest son might have preserved some hope for him—had it not been for one final blow.
His half-brother’s talent had proven to be extraordinary. The kind of genius that made the word itself feel inadequate. Kyle’s position had collapsed overnight. A legitimate heir with neither background nor ability—the outcome of the succession struggle had been all but decided from that moment. As expected, the factions that had once supported him abandoned him without hesitation. Kyle was left alone within the family.
Having lost his mother at a young age, then his place as heir, and finally even the attention of the family head, it was only natural that he would be isolated. Stripped of everything, Kyle had become a notorious scoundrel—the kind that made even the boldest recoil. He neglected his training, drowned himself in drink, and caused trouble wherever he went. Though he had been pushed out of the succession, he was still a direct descendant of the main family, and no one had dared to rein him in. His behavior had only grown worse.
Even after reaching adulthood and entering The Academy, nothing had changed. The Academy had not been a stepping stone for his recovery—it had only become another stage for despair. Amid the continent’s brightest talents, Kyle’s abilities had been no more remarkable than a pebble on the roadside. He had failed to distinguish himself in any way.
In the end, his conduct at the Academy had only deteriorated further. Before long, he had become one of the Academy’s most infamous troublemakers—a scoundrel whom no one dared to touch because of the Berwen name, yet whose behavior made expulsion seem inevitable at any moment.
Then, at the end of the previous year, Kyle had caused a particularly serious incident. A quarrel had escalated into a fight, and several students had been caught in the crossfire and gravely injured. Even the Berwen family could not overlook such an event. Kyle had been disciplined—suspended for three weeks.
That alone might have been manageable. Most students would have found the punishment devastating, but Kyle was not the type to care. In fact, he had treated the three weeks of confinement as a short vacation and rejoiced. But then the real problem had arisen.
For some reason, the family’s financial support had been cut off. At first, Kyle had assumed it was some kind of mistake, but no money had come even after time passed. Suspicious, he had returned home as soon as the semester ended and confronted the family head. The man who had not seen him in so long had spoken only a single sentence.
“You are no longer my son.”
That had been the end of it. The family head had not merely spoken the words—he had acted on them. All support to Kyle had been severed. With nothing to show for his trip, Kyle had boarded the train back to the Academy.
…And that was when I had possessed this body.
A sigh escaped him once more. He had hoped to make use of the Berwen family’s power to ease his path forward, only to find himself disowned. And with a body that was little more than a walking corpse, no less.
…Well, there’s nothing to be done about it now.
What was done was done. All he could do was make the best of the hand he had been dealt.
That said…
The original owner of this body, Kyle Berwen, had lived a truly wretched life. His actions had earned him a terrible reputation, but the protagonist could not bring himself to view the boy with nothing but contempt. Given his circumstances, it was understandable that he had become twisted. Losing his mother at a young age, watching his father immediately install his mistress as the new wife, seeing his maternal family collapse, being constantly compared to his half-brother, and ultimately having his position as heir stolen from him—such burdens were far too heavy for a child to bear. It must have been nearly impossible to remain sane under that weight.
That did not mean he condoned the scoundrel’s actions, but there was room for understanding. Even at his worst, Kyle had never crossed the final line. He had committed countless despicable acts, but he had remained a despicable human—not something less than human. In the end, he had died alone on a train, without a single person to mourn him or acknowledge his existence.
Knowing that, the protagonist felt a pang of sympathy. And there was something else.
There’s something suspicious here.
Traces remained in Kyle’s body—signs of drugs, curses, or perhaps both. Faint traces of something that had been used on him, so subtle that they would go unnoticed without careful examination. What if Kyle’s weakened body had not been that way from the start? What if his talent had never been merely ordinary?
A scenario formed in his mind. It was not some far-fetched fantasy—it was disturbingly plausible. And because of that, his sympathy for Kyle only deepened.
Rest in peace.
He wished for the original Kyle’s soul to find solace. He had no intention of stopping at mere words. Though he had never asked for this body, he owed it to the one who had lived in it to uncover the truth behind the traces left behind. His schedule would be busy going forward, so he could not devote all his efforts to the matter, but he would do what he could. And if the truth came to light…
I’ll avenge you as well.
That was, of course, assuming he had the luxury to spare.
With that small act of mourning complete, he turned his thoughts toward the future. Now that he had assessed his current situation, what he needed most was—
Money.
It was a vulgar concern, but unavoidable. Staying at the Academy required funds. The tuition was exorbitant. Originally, the family had covered it, but that support had been cut off. It would have been a small mercy if they had at least paid the semester’s fees in advance, but even that had been reclaimed. If the original Kyle had saved any money, it might not have been a problem, but his account was already running dangerously low. He might have enough for basic living expenses, but certainly not enough for tuition. Failing to pay for a single semester would not result in immediate expulsion, but forced leave of absence was a real possibility. And given Kyle’s reputation, the Academy might use it as an excuse to take even harsher measures.
Considering his goals, he needed to remain at the Academy at all costs. That meant he had to secure the tuition money as quickly as possible.
“…Haa.”
In the end, it always came down to money. People said you couldn’t live without it, but to be reborn and immediately have to worry about earning some—it was enough to make anyone sigh. If his body were at least in decent shape, it would have been manageable, but even that was worse than most invalids.
“…This is going to be rough.”
The path ahead truly seemed bleak. Even so, he had no intention of giving up and collapsing here. He had a goal that mattered more than anything else.
The children he had parted with eight years ago. Finding them again—that was his purpose.
Searching for them personally would be impossible. Scouring the entire continent alone was far too inefficient, and he had other matters to attend to here. He would have to entrust the search to professionals. And that, naturally, would cost money. Which meant that, one way or another, he needed to earn some.
“Right. Money can be earned.”
His circumstances and his body’s condition were both dire, yet he felt his motivation burning brighter than ever.
Just wait a little longer.
Because he wanted—needed—to see those children again.