Outside the window, the forest blazed gold with autumn. Maple trees carpeted the hills like flickering flames. The breeze drifting through the pane grew sharper by the day—surely the first snow would fall soon. Brother John had been appearing less and less. With farmers deep in harvest season, most castle servants had returned home, especially the able-bodied youths, nearly all gone. The once-bustling corridors now stood hollow, even the guards halved.

"Victoria, keep that window open much longer and you’ll catch a cold," the black cat said in a neutral, human-like voice. Yet its tail swayed uncontrollably, betraying its insincerity.

"Don’t worry, Chris. I know my limits."

"You’ve never had limits! Remember the crater on the hill? Whose magic went haywire?"

He meant last week. Rushing a spell test, I’d botched the Arcane Formula—magic surged, carving a massive crater into the hillside. Father, Count Lud, sent investigators to the unstable energy site, claiming concern for the townsfolk. But I knew the truth: he only cared about protecting Elizabeth.

Over the past month, the Lud household’s finances visibly improved. Thomas used to siphon funds monthly; most went to my stepmother Katherine to sustain their "arrangement." After I framed him with counterfeit coins, he was imprisoned in the judicial office of the Duchy of Northberg. Their scandal exposed, Katherine fled home with my brother Royce. Now, Elizabeth ruled as mistress of the house.

Yes—*the* mistress.

Born with the "Beguiling Eye," one of the twelve Demon Eyes, she effortlessly enthralled everyone. All orbits circled her, lifting her sky-high. As she aged, her power would deepen—bewitching more souls, using her "fiancé" as a stepping stone, draining man after man until she seized the throne. Don’t ask how I know. In my past life, she walked this path step by step.

Admittedly, she was striking: silky pink hair, sky-blue eyes, flawless grace. Her elegant style amplified her charm. And the Demon Eye sealed it—locking foolish Prince Edward under her thumb, paving ruin. Even at five, she already showed the hallmarks of a "green tea." Truly, as the saying goes: a child’s nature at five foretells the adult.

Somehow, her Beguiling Eye held no sway over me. After a week of anxious vigilance, I no longer hid. Brother John seemed immune too—maybe he was just thick-headed. I wondered if his harvest went smoothly. I wanted to write, but he couldn’t read. Pointless. In a land with 95% illiteracy, a six-year-old who reads and writes is rare.

"Victoria. Close the window. Now. Immediately."

"Fine, fine, *Mom* Chris. Doing it."

"I’m not your mom! Hmph~~"

His grumble snapped me from thought. Reluctantly, I leaned over the desk, small hands removing the wooden prop. The window pane clicked shut.

"Satisfied, Chris?"

"Satisfied? Don’t make me laugh." He shot me a glare. "Aleister tasked me to check your homework. Did you finish last night’s Arcane Formula?"

"Done ages ago. Want to verify?"

"Tsk. Trying to pawn it off on me? If that detestable Master of the Demon Eye finds out, he’ll double your assignment for *double the joy*."

"Yes, yes. Understood."

In my past life, I was a skilled Arcanomechanical Artificer. Magic and arcanomechanics were distinct yet intertwined—machinery channeling spells or replicating magical phenomena. Joseph Badan founded the field on magical formulas. Back then, paralysis shattered half my magic circuits; I turned to arcanomechanics out of necessity.

Now, intact circuits meant nothing. My magic control was worse than average. Spells slipped through my fingers. Force it? Explosion. Power dangled within reach—yet untouchable. Were even the gods denying my effort?

But Master Aleister disagreed.

"Can’t control magic? No big deal."

I froze. *Everyone* knew control was essential. Was he comforting me?

"Don’t fret, Victoria. I couldn’t control magic either—*while I was alive*."

...What?

The legendary Archmage—*powerless*? Not funny. How did he cast spells? Every book praised his "non-incantation" mastery.

"Don’t look like the sky’s falling." He twirled his staff twice. "Watch. The secret’s here."

Magic shimmered. An Arcane Formula bloomed at the tip—ready for activation. Compilation to completion: 0.1 seconds. Impossible for humans. Normal casting required chanting incantations to guide internal magic flow—tedious, psychological crutches. Yet Aleister did it instantly.

*Was this the Master of the Demon Eye’s depth?*

Profound. Unfathomable.

"Actually—" He handed me the staff. "Press here. Pull this. Rotate thirty degrees. Ta-da!"

It split open. Hollow. Inside: interlocking gears of varying sizes—a mechanical computer. Each gear etched with incantations (five to thirty per piece). Channel magic through the sequence, and the gears activated spells in perfect order, weaving the Arcane Formula.

*This was arcanomechanics.*

The centuries-old Archmage. Uncrowned king of mages. Commander of sixty-six demon legions… was secretly an Arcanomechanical Artificer.

But arcanomechanics wasn’t founded by Joseph Badan *four years from now*? Right now, he’s an obscure researcher in the Duchy of Northberg. And Freud—my past-life patron, future Duke of Northberg—

"My Observer… should’ve self-destructed, right?"

I recalled Observer Unit No. 1, struck by Freud’s arrow. How he spotted the optically invisible unit, I’ll never know. But that shot was precise. My creation, shattered.

Homework double-checked, flawless. Tucked into the drawer. I opened the attic door, descended the steep stairs to the third-floor corridor. The maids assigned to me now ignored me completely, orbiting Elizabeth. To eat, I fetched kitchen leftovers myself. The cooks’ disdain stung, but at least they handed me food—cold, sloppily mixed. Then they’d *watch* me eat it before dumping scraps to the dogs.

A clear message: *You rank just above the family hound.*

Heh. Laughable.

So three times daily, I crossed this corridor. I chose quiet hours—but sometimes, Elizabeth appeared.

Footsteps. She glided toward me with four maids. Today’s dress shimmered; jewels glittered in her pink hair. Radiant. At five, her refined taste already gleamed. Beauty plus Beguiling Eye? Eyes followed her everywhere.

Me? Gray hair like withered grass. Golden eyes hinting at demons. Malnourished, shorter than my younger sister. My clothes: patched rags, cuffs and elbows frayed to threads.

Same blood. Worlds apart. After I dealt with Thomas and Katherine, Father openly lavished every spare coin on her. Her treatment now dwarfed my past life’s—doted on beyond measure, the apple of every eye.

I shifted toward the wall, ready to slip past unnoticed.

"Oh? Isn’t that Sister Victoria?" An angelic smile. "Look! Father bought me this dress. The skirt alone cost ten gold coins. Adorable lace, isn’t it? And this gemstone necklace—*so* pretty?"

This little brat aimed to provoke. Once, such words might’ve stung—when I still clung to hollow family dreams. Not now. I held an entire library. One magic tome could buy this estate ten times over. The knowledge within? Priceless.

*A mere ten-gold dress to make me envious?*

Don’t make me laugh.