Chapter 1: A New Life, A Broken Legacy
Pain was the first thing I knew.
A dull ache throbbed through my body, settling deep into my bones. My limbs felt stiff, and every breath came shallowly, as if I hadn't used these lungs in ages. The scent of herbs and stale linen filled my nostrils. Someone was speaking, but their voice was distant and muffled, like I was submerged in water.
"—should have died from that wound."
"Then she's fortunate she didn't," a woman's voice snapped. It was warm yet sharp, like the edge of a well-honed blade. "My daughter is alive, and that's all that matters."
Daughter?
I forced my eyes open. The world blurred—soft candlelight flickered against wooden walls, heavy drapes covered the windows, and two figures stood by my bedside. One was a man with graying black hair, dressed in a nobleman's uniform. His posture was stiff, his arms crossed, and his expression unreadable. The other was a woman with deep auburn curls, her violet eyes burning with intense emotion.
She was crying.
"Jessica?" she knelt beside me, grasping my hand tightly. "Sweetheart, can you hear me?"
The name felt unfamiliar, but the concern in her voice made my throat tighten.
I tried to speak, but my voice came out hoarse. "...Yes."
Relief washed over her face. She pressed my knuckles to her lips, whispering a prayer of gratitude. The man beside her—my father, I realized distantly—only sighed.
"The doctor said she won't be able to use magic," he stated coldly. "The injury has damaged her core."
I blinked.
Magic. A damaged core.
I didn't fully comprehend it, but something within me twisted at those words.
My mother glared at him. "She's alive, Gregory..."
"She is my daughter," he replied, his voice clipped. "Which means she must become a knight, as is customary for the Moran family."
A noble house of knights. That was my lineage.
But I was broken.
My mother's grip on my hand tightened. "She just woke up. Can we not wait until she's more stable?"
Father remained silent. His expression didn't change. He simply turned and left, his boots echoing against the wooden floorboards.
Silence stretched between us after he was gone. My mother—**this woman who loved me so dearly, though I couldn't recall a single memory of her—**brushed strands of hair from my face.
It was then that I saw it.
A polished silver tray sat beside the bed, likely left behind by the attending physician.
My heartbeat slowed.
The smooth surface reflected the dim glow of the room—distorted, blurred, but enough to catch the outline of a face.
My face.
Something inside me recoiled.
The moment I recognized my own features staring back at me, a tight, uncomfortable sensation crawled down my spine.
Ash-black hair, not quite jet black, but dark and dusted, tinged with brown when caught in the light. Strands of it fell limply over my forehead, unfamiliar yet my own. My skin was paler than I expected. And then there were the eyes—emerald green, deep and rich, a color only found in some of the oldest noble families.
I should have studied my reflection longer. Tried to familiarize myself with the stranger staring back at me.
But I didn't.
Instead, I turned my head away, exhaling slowly, as if ignoring it would make the unease disappear.
"You don't have to listen to him," my mother murmured beside me. "You're my little girl before you're a knight."
I didn't know how to respond.
Because deep down, I already knew—whether I wanted to or not, I had to fight.
_________
Days Later
My body was weak.
Every movement ached. Simple tasks—sitting up, walking, even holding a spoon—left me trembling. I was supposed to be a knight's daughter, yet I couldn't even wield a practice sword without my arms shaking.
But something was wrong.
I couldn't use magic. That much was true. I felt no mana within me. And yet, when I closed my eyes, I could feel the world around me.
The flow of energy. The presence of mana—not within, but outside.
It was faint, but there.
When I tried to move my body with precision, something in my instincts screamed that I had done this before. My hands knew how to grip a weapon, even if my muscles failed me.
And then there was Flicker.
I had used it before. I knew I had.
The first time I attempted it, I collapsed. My body was too frail. The second time, I barely shifted an inch before my legs gave out. But on the third try—
I moved.
Only a foot forward, but I moved.
The exhilaration was brief. My legs buckled beneath me, and I hit the floor hard.
But lying there, gasping, sweat beading on my brow, I couldn't help but smile.
I wasn't as broken as they thought.
____________
Days Later
My body was weak.
Every movement ached. Simple tasks—sitting up, walking, even holding a spoon—left me trembling. I was supposed to be a knight's daughter, yet I couldn't even wield a practice sword without my arms shaking.
But something was wrong.
I couldn't use magic. That much was true. I felt no mana within me. And yet, when I closed my eyes, I could feel the world around me.
The flow of energy. The presence of mana—not within, but outside.
It was faint, but there.
When I tried to move my body with precision, something in my instincts screamed that I had done this before. My hands knew how to grip a weapon, even if my muscles failed me.
And then there was Flicker.
I had used it before. I knew I had.
The first time I attempted it, I collapsed. My body was too frail. The second time, I barely shifted an inch before my legs gave out. But on the third try—
I moved.
Only a foot forward, but I moved.
The exhilaration was brief. My legs buckled beneath me, and I hit the floor hard.
But lying there, gasping, sweat beading on my brow, I couldn't help but smile.
I wasn't as broken as they thought.
_____________
Two Months Later – The Academy Looms
Word had spread.
Even though I avoided my father's expectations, my fate was sealed—I was still a noble, and noble children were expected to attend the Arcadia Magic Knight Academy.
But everyone, even the knight already knew the rumors.
"Jessica Moran—the magic cripple."
"She's only there because of her family name."
"What's the point of a knight who can't use magic?"
I heard them. I ignored them.
Let them think I was worthless.
Because soon, I would show them exactly what a true knight looked like.
Even if I had to tear down their illusions with my own two hands.