Warmth.
That was the first thing he felt.
Not the kind that came from heavy blankets or an overworked space heater—but something deeper, almost unnatural. Like the air itself was embracing him.
This isn't my apartment...
Riku slowly opened his eyes.
The ceiling above him was unlike anything he'd ever seen. A smooth dome of obsidian black stretched across the chamber, inlaid with silver and violet patterns that pulsed faintly, like constellations in a living sky. It shimmered, as though magic itself breathed across its surface.
He blinked.
Sat up.
And froze.
The bed beneath him was massive—four-poster, carved from blackwood with crimson silk draped over its frame. His body sank into the mattress, as if the material had been crafted for royalty. The sheets were smoother than anything he'd touched in his old life. A red and gold crest was stitched into the blanket near his waist. It resembled a horned crown resting atop a jagged mountain.
He threw the blanket off and stared at himself.
His arms were leaner, more defined. His skin had a faint unnatural sheen to it, as if kissed by moonlight. A long mirror stood by the wall. He stumbled toward it, bare feet brushing against a furred carpet.
The face that stared back was… not his.
Not Riku Nakamura.
The man in the mirror had raven-black hair that fell to his shoulders in gentle waves, and piercing silver eyes that looked like they could cut through darkness itself. His jaw was sharper, lips thinner, skin flawless. His whole presence radiated something regal—and unsettling.
"This… isn't me," he whispered, touching his cheek.
Suddenly, a sharp chime rang out in his mind.
Ding—!
> [Welcome, Chosen Soul.]
[You have been successfully reincarnated.]
[New Identity: Lucien Morvane]
[Bloodline: Demon Noble]
[Parentage: Direct Descendant of Demon King Azareth Morvane]
[Title: Heir of the Abyssal Throne]
[System Activated: Elysium Protocol]
[Lifestyle Mode: Wealth & Peace – Tracking Conditions...]
[Status: Noble Class – High Priority Soul]
Riku—no, Lucien—stumbled back.
Reincarnated? Demon King's son?! What kind of isekai madness is this?!
He held his head as the information poured into his brain. Words he'd never seen, names he didn't recognize, memories that weren't fully his—but lingered at the edge of his consciousness like a dream fading with daylight.
There was a knock at the door.
"Young Master Lucien, breakfast is ready. Shall I prepare your cloak?"
Lucien didn't respond.
He walked back to the bed and sat down, trying to process everything. He remembered dying. That much was crystal clear. The cold night. The alley. The kid. The blood. His final wish…
A peaceful life… a rich one…
It was meant to be a dying thought, not a goddamn system prompt!
And yet here he was. No stab wound. No crappy one-bedroom apartment. No looming rent. Just a new face, a strange voice calling him Young Master, and some system treating him like a chosen one.
"…What the hell is going on…"
> [Personality Stabilization Complete.]
[Memory Synchronization: 12%]
[You may experience temporary confusion or emotional detachment as your new soul adapts.]
[Please enjoy your new life.]
Lucien exhaled slowly, grounding himself. Panic wouldn't help. If this was real—if this was a new life—then maybe, just maybe, he could make something out of it.
But why a demon noble?
And what did "peaceful" even mean in a world where demons had kings?
His thoughts were interrupted again—this time by the door creaking open.
A tall man in silver armor stepped in. His skin was a dusky gray, with curved horns protruding from his forehead and glowing green eyes that radiated authority and calm.
"Young Master," the man said, bowing at the waist. "Your father has requested your presence in the Throne Hall."
"My… father?"
"Yes. Lord Azareth Morvane, Sovereign of the Abyss, wishes to see you."
Lucien swallowed.
The Demon King. His father.
No pressure.
"…Right. Lead the way," he said, voice unfamiliar in his own ears—smooth, commanding, like someone born with power.
As he followed the knight through the towering black halls lined with violet fire-torches and crimson banners, Lucien couldn't shake the feeling that this "peaceful, rich" life might not be so simple after all.
Because if he was the heir of a Demon King…
Then peace was probably the last thing he'd ever get.