"Finally over."

Kevin collapsed onto the floor, utterly spent. Beads of translucent sweat dotted his delicate face, rising as faint wisps of steam.

*Clang! Clatter!* The heavy metal helmet hit the ground, followed by a cascade of silvery-white hair spilling across the floor.

"So tired... I just wanna hole up here forever~."

[Host, mission complete. Claim your reward. Claim it. Claim it.]

That glitchy mechanical voice crackled in his skull again. The system’s glitches were getting worse—any day now, it might just fritz out completely.

*Good riddance.* Wait—no. First, he needed to change back.

[Congratulations, Host. Reward delivered. New mission initiated.]

"Ugh. Can’t I even catch my breath?" Kevin grumbled at the system’s relentless demands but obediently pulled up the interface. After all, his life was in its hands.

One glance told him something was off. What *was* this nonsense?

[MISSION: Enroll at Imperial Academy as a freshman. All future tasks will originate here. Complete ASAP.]

[ACCEPT] [DECLINE]

[PS: Stored rewards exceed capacity. Transferring directly to Host. Stand by.]

Junk rained down around him—no need to inspect most of it. Only one item caught his eye.

"A fragment of a Legendary artifact? Oh, for heaven’s sake."

Kevin plucked the golden shard from the pile, examining it in his palm. His exquisite features twisted in disdain.

*Please.* He’d once turned a Legendary artifact into a chamber pot—*as a man*, no, *as a woman*. Did he really need this clutter? It was just taking up space.

The system began its spiel, static buzzing in his head:

[Host, this is a fragment of the world’s most powerful—]

Kevin didn’t wait. He hurled the shard away. A sonic boom echoed through the hall. He dusted his palms lightly.

"Trash. What was that, System? I didn’t quite catch it. Say it again?"

[Task auto-accepted. Complete immediately.]

"Ah? I’m over a hundred years old. Sending me back to school is utterly absurd."

Silence. Kevin sighed. No choice—he was under the system’s thumb.

His fingers brushed his silky silver hair, now reaching well past his waist. A flicker of exasperation crossed his flawless face.

"Too long... and I’ve no idea how to manage it. Such a headache."

He’d considered burning half of it off with magic. Just a thought, though. Stuck.

Then—a flash of inspiration. If he couldn’t control magic precisely... why not hire a maid? Noble students always brought attendants to Imperial Academy. Those pampered brats wouldn’t dream of managing without help.

But using locals risked exposure. And loyalty? Unreliable.

He mentally scanned potential candidates. None fit. He’d need to train someone from scratch. But where to find them?

"Ugh, ugh, UGHHH—!"

With a flick of his wrist, the heavy armor clattered to the floor. He pushed himself up slowly, muttering under his breath about never-ending troubles.

*Beep-beep.* The communication stone at his waist chimed, cutting through his thoughts.

"Hm? What does Lorin want now?"

Kevin hesitated, then tapped the stone.

"What is it, Lorin?"

"Just checking if you’re free to meet. Got a few things to ask."

"Not today. I’m busy."

"Ah. Another time, then."

No time for idle chats. He needed solutions. His gaze drifted to the window, where the sun blazed mercilessly.

"Scorching out there."

---

Lorin strolled down the bustling avenue, his handsome face drawing lingering glances from passersby. He offered polite smiles in return.

"Seems Miss Kevin’s unavailable..." He chuckled softly to himself. "Fate keeps throwing us together. Still... better head home first."

Lost in thought, he found himself before a lavish villa. An elderly butler greeted him at the gate.

"Young Master! You’ve returned at last."

"Just checking if the old drunk’s still breathing," Lorin replied casually, as if discussing the weather.

"Young Master, the Master would be distressed to hear you say that." The butler sighed. Their fractured father-son bond was beyond mending.

"Enough, Butler Lin. Take me to him." Lorin waved a hand wearily.

"Very well. Follow me."

Butler Lin led him to a room. Oddly silent—no clinking bottles, no stale alcohol stench.

"Hey, old drunk! In there?" Lorin rapped sharply on the door, impatience thick in his voice. Their relationship had long since curdled.

"Enter."

Lorin stepped inside. Gali sat hunched over a scratched, faded portrait, lost in memories. An untouched bottle sat beside him.

"What do you want, old drunk?" Lorin snapped. He’d only come because summoned. This cold house held no warmth for him.

"It’s time to come home, Henry." Gali’s voice was low, his eyes never leaving the portrait.

"Oh? Decided to parent me now?" Lorin’s jaw tightened. Every year, like clockwork—the old man would summon him, dredging up promises made to his mother.

"I’m not coming back. Don’t worry—I won’t leech off your name. If you *really* cared about me? You’d have sobered up the day I was born. Tch. Forget it."

Anger flared, but beneath it swam hurt. He spun around, slamming the door open with a kick. Wood splintered with a deafening *crash*.

"I wish I weren’t your son."