Chapter 1:
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The Fake Third Son's POV
I never asked for reincarnation.
Especially not to this life again.
His name was Olivan, and like his past self from another world, he found himself in a life of an adoptee in an elven household where he never quite belonged. After all, he was a half-elf, neither fully human nor entirely elven, he grew up feeling out of place.
A circle amongst squares and triangles.
His birth parents had been ordinary people, blue-collar workers who lost their lives trying to protect him when the airship they’d boarded went down. He’d been only six. The Vaelhans' youngest son, Luming, had been on that ship too—and perished in the crash. But against all odds, Olivan survived, pulled from the wreckage after being shielded beneath the dead bodies of his own parents.
The Vaelhans, famous as the inventors of airship travel in the realm of Lythica, made headlines everywhere when they adopted Olivan, the sole survivor of the accident that had claimed their real son. The world watched in awe, some lauding the Vaelhans’ generosity in taking in the orphaned boy, others whispering that it was a cruel substitution, a quick fix to the raw vacancy left by Luming.
But Olivan wasn’t Luming. He was a half-elf, an outsider wearing the name Vaelhan like a borrowed cloak—far from the son they’d lost, and even further from the one they’d wanted ideally.
Olivan was born with no magic, no remarkable talents—nothing that would make him an ideal fit for the Vaelhan family. He was just like his birth parents: lower, middle-class workers simply trying to make ends meet. They had only boarded that airship because it was what Olivan wanted for his birthday—to see the city of Sylwon from far above the sky.
The new soul trapped inside this 19-year-old Olivan chagrined as he realized he was stuck in someone else's original work, published on Toil Toad. It was heavy on the High Fantasy—dense with lore and intricate magical systems—appealing only to those who could endure the sheer volume of in-depth writing. They were the ones who’d stuck around, only for the author to abandon it, without notice or update. Just... Hiatus.
But Olivan wasn't the main character. Neither was the Vaelhan family. At least, he didn’t think they were.
His head spun, struggling to adapt as the new memories crashed against the remnants of his previous life. It was jarring.
And it's been hours since he woke up in this body. Where was everyone?
Hunger gnawing at his stomach, Olivan forced himself out of bed, wincing as his joints creaked and ached, as if they hadn’t moved in days. His legs wobbled, barely holding him upright, and he felt like a toddler learning to walk all over again. Step by unsteady step, he made it out of the bedroom, slowly piecing together where he was.
This was the small villa on the Vaelhan property, near the lake—a place he’d moved into at sixteen, when the main household had grown too… insufferable to bear. But where were the servants? There were usually two of them here. What were their names again? Olivan couldn’t remember.
He struggled down the flight of stairs, gripping tightly to the railing, unwilling to risk a fall—pain was something he could do without. Once he reached the ground floor, he celebrated with a quiet fist pump.
Still no sign of the servants. Olivan glanced around, taking in the little villa. It was much bigger than his old apartment, with tall windows that invited sunlight to spill across the spacious room. Yet it felt… empty. Though he lived here, there was nothing to show it was his. Just generic decor.
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Something gnawed at his chest, sharp and unsettling, but he couldn’t remember what.
Shaking his head, he decided there was no point in forcing it. Right now, his first priority was food.
The kitchen was just as nice with an island counter, an alcohol corner bar, and glass sliding doors that led out to a patio dining area.
Olivan appreciated the sight a little more before he made his way to the fridge, getting used to walking now, though his muscles terribly ached. Then he paused for a moment, looking at the fridge strangely. The surface was metallic, but a beautiful framing design was etched on it. Of course... this was still a high fantasy world that was currently in the new age of industrialization birthed by the intricate mix of magic and tech–which Olivan had neither talents for.
As for the Vaelhan's, they're currently one of the top leading companies that were changing the realm of Lythica. Olivan was both lucky and unlucky to be adopted by this family. He started to remember the expectations, and how often Olivan failed to meet them.
Stop it. Olivan told himself. I'm not Olivan. I'm [REDACTED]. Eat first. Then figure out what to do for the rest of my second life.
One thing's for sure, this new Olivan was not staying in this place for long. He needed to get away from this family so he could start his own life.
"Now... what should I make...?"
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The First Son's POV
"Do you mind checking on Olivan?" Duchess Fiona Vaelhan—his dearest mother—asked as she greeted him when he came home early from work.
Truthfully, he’d only returned to retrieve a few files he’d left in his office-bedroom, files he needed to complete by tomorrow. But his mother had asked a favor, and, reluctantly, he accepted. He would never refuse her, yet the thought of visiting his comatose adopted brother left him uneasy. If anything, it was better for everyone if Olivan just… kept sleeping.
But his mother added, “Tormak and Ingrid sent a report this morning. They say he’s still sleeping, but… I feel like they’re writing the same thing over and over. I was going to check myself, but the air’s getting chilly, and my knee hasn’t been kind to me.”
Leonardo sighed as he set his suitcase down on the nearby bench. “Then you should sit, Amme. I’ll go now and check on Olivan’s condition personally.”
"Thank you, Leo."
A month ago, Olivan had attended a party on a yacht out in Sylwon’s coastal waters. He’d fallen off the boat and drowned. Though they managed to save him, he’d remained unconscious since, the doctors claiming that a lack of oxygen had likely induced the coma. After two weeks without a change, they brought him back to the villa, hiring a doctor and two servants with healing expertise to monitor him.
The servants, Tormak and Ingrid, submitted daily and evening reports on Olivan’s condition. Leonardo understood why they might feel repetitive; after all, they were caring for someone who only slept. Really, one person could have managed it alone.
The walk to the villa took a solid twenty minutes, winding through the garden paths that circled the lake and led to a small bridge opening to the back of Olivan's villa. Olivan had moved there three years ago, after the massive fight over his failing academics and his questionable friends. And, worst of all, he’d endangered Clara’s life—their youngest sister. That incident was three years ago, yet Leonardo had never trusted him again. And after that incident, Olivan had only gotten worse. He was starting to be a danger to himself and to the family.
Hope you keep sleeping. Leo thought coldly with a twinge of sadness in his heart.
However, upon crossing the bridge, Leonardo froze, his eyes widening. There, on the patio, Olivan sat, casually eating a bowl of pasta.
...No, it can't be...
Shocked and bewildered, Leo blinked, his mind struggling to process the sight before him.
Why hadn’t the servants informed us? Leo wondered as he finally found feeling in his legs and moved toward Olivan, who was still absorbed in his meal.
As he approached, Olivan looked up, setting his fork down and using a cloth napkin to wipe his face. Leo’s gaze flickered to the strange plate of food before focusing on Olivan’s face—haggard, gaunt, and strangely unfamiliar.
Then Olivan’s brows knit in mild confusion. “…You’re… Leo-anii, right?”
Leo’s frown deepened. That was odd; Olivan hadn’t called him that since primary school.
“Olivan… how… why are you here?” Leo struggled to settle on a question, his mind racing. Where were the servants they’d hired to watch him?!
And then, suddenly, his adopted brother’s voice echoed in his mind.
[Wow… for an asshole of a brother, he’s actually good-looking.]
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Family terms in Sylwon, Lythica:
Father - adar
Mother - amme
Older Brother - anii
Older sister - anee
Younger brother - alehni
Younger sister - alehna
Grandmother - (F) Laonee / Haonee (M)
Grandfather - (F) Laodar / Haodar (M)
Aunt - liree
Uncle - darii
Notes: These terms can be used as standalone term to address a family member like 'Amme', or added at the end of a name with a hyphen, like 'Leo-anii'.