If I could list out all the main heroes in novels or series who had some type of secret birth, hidden powers, some unimaginable adventures, twenty digits off my limbs wouldn't nearly be enough. Like Harry with his lightning scar on his forehead. Percy being a demigod son of Poseidon. Naruto's 26 seasons of adventure in becoming hokage. Luffy in search of One Piece. Katniss defying Capitol's musings. That great trilogy about One ring to rule them all. Or that one series that had nothing with squids but immediately turned into a hell of a bloodbath right from the first episode till the end.

Surviving battle royales, fighting inside districts, mazes, buildings, on ships, spaceships, helicopters, roads, seas… Or killing monsters, extraterrestrial beings, humans, elves, dwarves, vampires, deities, gods, Olympians. All these scenarios included, only proved that I could never be the main character. I had no superpowers. No special talents. And, no. I didn’t have a secret background either. I knew who exactly my parents were. In addition, with the help of that so-called acclaimed DNA test others would call it, I could trace my ancestry up to five generations back. Surprisingly, the result turned out adequately normal.

98% South East Asian, 2% Han

Not sure where my Han ancestry came from but apparently, my distant ancestor was an eloped princess from the Three Great Kingdoms—well, that was what my grandfather kept yapping on to all of his grandchildren. Anyway, there was somehow a minuscule amount of questionable royal blood in me. And, NOPE! That still didn’t make me the main character at all!

No, no, no…

Far cry from being the main character, I was a full-pledged wallpaper character. An extra who faded into the background. A nobody who ranked lower than the side characters. A canon fodder. The bottom of the rung. Nothing but my wits and fortitude to my name. While these side characters had one or two important roles in their life, I for one, had none. Not this L-U-K-E. A wallpaper character like me would always be forgotten, never seen, never heard, and never important. That was how I lived my entire life for the last 20 years—being a wallpaper.

One time in middle school, I blended in so well with my surroundings that my teachers and classmates didn't notice I was there until halfway through the second semester. Yup. You heard that right. To be honest, I didn’t blame them. Apart from cleverly escaping weekly dictatorship assemblies, military-based exercises, or spartan regime lessons after school, I was very proud of my disappearing trick—I was a personified modern Houdini.

Not dancing to someone else's music allowed my life to be much more easy-going and comfortable, like an old shoe. While others denounced this kind of attitude as indolence, I however called it—freedom. Liberating myself from the accursed societal constraints to pursue my interests without interference. Deftly evading potentially dangerous situations in advance. Most important, having the freedom to sleep where, when, and for how long I wanted.

What a great life!

But, people always said that nothing great truly lasted forever. I realized it was true. That prized freedom of mine was now precariously balanced on a knife’s edge since a few hours ago. Whether by divine design or something else, I had unexpectedly become a real fictional character. Not just any character but as a villain’s sidekick in a random trashy third-rate novel, Lucas Von Arrendhart.

After that intelligent younger brother of mine had finished reading the novel, he had the effrontery to flout that Lucas was a voluble man and more enthused than I was. The disdain in his words couldn't be more obvious. Despite having a big brain, his prejudice clearly illuminated his tactlessness and boorish way of thinking.

In contrast to his misjudgment, I found Lucas the sidekick a hardly decent man. Rather, he was an ardent flatterer of Richard, one of the villains in the novel, toadying Zerroth Kingdom’s elitist aristocrats at the expense of his own—the Arrendhart family’s downfall. In the end, he met his demise in the most humiliating way possible—very early in the story, as a result of his debauched morals and depraved acts upon the people in his fief.

His death was described in a single sentence in Chapter 10 of 'Hero of Mortals': …Finally, he was stripped naked in the middle of a square and stoned to death by the people of Aeir.

In thoughtful contemplation, I gazed at the shiny, silver-rimmed plate and a set of steel cutleries in front of me. A round, chubby face, as if two dumplings had been plastered on its cheeks, framed by a loosened side fringe of platinum hair reflected in the plate. In addition, a pair of crimson-jeweled eyes glared straight back at me. When I furrowed my brows, the reflection had the audacity to do the same. Feeling angry, I crab-pinched my own cheeks. I winced at the slight throbbing before releasing my fingers. Boing, they bounced like marshmallows.

“Huh…” My head dropped as a heavy sigh escaped my throat while I brought my palms to my chin on the dining table.

Shit, why did I have to become him of all people? I sighed for the umpteenth time.

Moments later, I raised my head to look around at the five people seated around me. Every single one of them turned their cold, judging eyes on me. Some of them glared, while some looked puzzled. I felt my stomach clench with anxiety as the heavy silence filled the air.

Shit.

◈◈◈

A trained butler of Arrendhart's always stood at attention behind their master during mealtime. However, at this very moment, something was bugging George's mind: There's something different with master Lucas today, he deemed as he stood exactly behind his young master. George was now hawkishly studying his idiot young master from behind his monocle and came to this insightful conclusion after observing him for the last several hours.

In comparison to other young masters and the young lady in the Arrendhart household, the boy in front of him was a black sheep in the family. Until today, George had lost count of the number of servants that collapsed under Lucas's atrocious acts. No servants have managed to escape his master’s unrestrained temper. Even he, himself, had once felt the brutal brunt of Lucas's rage. The evidence of this was the streaks of bulging flesh that snaked along his back. George closed his eyes, recalling his traumatic experience. His fingernails whitened as he clenched his fists.

Opening his hazel eyes, he stared at his master’s platinum whorl from where he stood. He squinted his eyes. This morning’s incident puzzled him. As much as he tried to figure out the sudden changes in his master's personality, there was no reasonable explanation.

This morning, as he attempted to knock on his master's bedroom doors, he was abruptly interrupted by a loud shriek and a flurry of clanking noises from within. Since he was Arrendhart's main butler, he swung open the massive door without hesitation. His eyes quickly darted to the broken vase next to the bed.

“Master Lucas, what is—,” George exclaimed before... a pudgy, half-naked boy ran at him, his chest bouncing with each heavy stride.

"Y-You! Tell me who I am and where exactly is this place!" The pudgy boy demanded with a scrunched face while grabbing George's arms.

George was dumbfounded. In between his racing thoughts, he'd wondered if this was another of his master's silly games. Still, he cleared his throat and responded, maintaining his dignity as a butler.

“You are Lucas von Arrendhart. Lord Alistair’s fourth son. You are currently in Aeir, the main fiefdom of your household, master Lucas.”

After hearing his reply, the figure in front of him staggered back. Within a short time, George could hear his master mumbling to himself in agitation, a far cry from the morning ritual of berating and reprimanding the servants in the manor. His master paced back and forth, his chunky feet shuffling while saying things like, W-Wait, I’m alive? But I’m sure I died back then. I fell. No. Someone pushed me… But, who? Later on, a series of incoherent and incomprehensible ramblings came out of his master's mouth, causing George to become more perplexed as time went by.

He decided to break the atmosphere. “Master Lucas, are you alright?”

The pace of the boy’s feet halted. His master turned to face him. “I’m…” Another pause. “I’m fine.”

George sighed briefly. “Master, you must be in the dining hall by the seventh hour. The lord has ordered everyone to assemble, as he wishes to make an extremely important announcement this morning,” he stared squarely at Lucas.

“I see.”

“Would you like to wear your usual outfit?” he inquired, before raising his tone, “Reina, come in.”

A young maidservant, her auburn hair pulled back in twin ponytails, walked inside the room. Reina was one of the only few maidservants willing to serve Lucas. Her courage was something to be commended. Even George himself wouldn't see her lightly. The petite girl moved toward the center of the room, carrying a set of clothes. The clothes on her arms included a white shirt, black pants, and a red suede coat embroidered with golden threads that cost a handful of jewels for a mere yard length of its thread. With her dainty fingers, she presented the outfit to her master. However, in contrast to her expectations, a sudden voice exclaimed in surprise.

“Wait, do I have to put on that hideous thing? I’ll be a clown if I show up in that!”

George’s and the maid's eyes widened simultaneously. Puzzled looks formed on their faces. Afterward, they locked their gazes on their master.

“However, you have always insisted on having all your clothes embroidered in gold threads, master,” George pointed out. From clothing to accessories to furniture and ornaments, his young master had always preferred the gleam of gold.

“Ah… Right, I did that. Sorry. A-Anyway, get me a plain outfit without gold on it. Let’s see,” his master said, “anything black will do.”

There was a brief pause as George narrowed his eyes at his master's strange actions. “As you wish, master.”

Then, George signaled to the maid by his side to leave, and he quickly followed after her. His heart grew uneasy as he locked the doors behind him. Did he just say sorry? George shook his head. His ears were playing tricks on him. His fists balled together, rubbing his cufflinks. No matter what the situation at hand, he determined to remain vigilant and steadfast as he always did before. Deep inside his heart, he already knew his master would soon revert to his previous, lordly, and despotic behavior.

After much introspection about this morning's incident, his mind returned, his eyes still on the whorl of his master. Within him, a sense of unease was germinating.

Soultist

Erm, I started writing a new one after having writer's block from my previous novel. I actually wrote this one a few months ago but only picked it up recently. I also appreciate any comments and suggestions coming from you all. Enjoy!

p/s: Since English is not my native language, any suggestions on grammar or writing would be really helpful.

Note: This novel is also published on Royal Road concurrently.