Leopold Geylhard—
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a name etched into the memory of anyone who had ever touched Valtheris Chronicles.
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He wasn’t a hero. Not even close.
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He was the younger brother of one of the capture targets—timid, weepy, and pathetically devoted to the protagonist, whom he clung to and called “big brother.”
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With delicate features that even outshone the main hero, Leopold carried the appearance of a beautiful doll while hiding behind skirts, playing the part of a fragile girl. They said he had talent for combat, but a childhood trauma left him crippled with fear at the mere thought of fighting.
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Had it ended there, he might have been pitiable—but harmless.
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Instead, the developers twisted him into a sacrificial pawn.
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The story revealed he was entangled in a scandal with his uncle’s wife—none other than the Empress of the Azraeil Empire. She clung to him with an obsession so violent that, in the end, she immolated herself and dragged him into the flames, declaring they would “be together in death.”
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Later, it was uncovered that she had coerced him into submission—blackmailing, trapping, and possessing him in secret while the world remained blind to their affair.
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The memory of Leopold’s final moments—his broken screams as fire consumed him beside the Empress—sent a shiver crawling up my spine.
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I drew a sharp breath, forcing my body to steady. My feet carried me toward the mirror standing against the wall.
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Looking back at me was the face of an eight-year-old boy: hair the color of silvered moonlight, eyes of deep violet that seemed too sharp for his round cheeks and button nose. A beauty too innocent for the curse of his fate.
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“Yes… it’s him. The features are still small, still soft, but unmistakable.”
Panic surged through me.
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If she’s real too… then doesn’t that mean I’m already doomed?
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“No. Breathe. The tragedy hasn’t happened yet. The Empress’s obsession hasn’t begun. There’s still time.”
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I crushed down the fear clawing at me, forcing calm back into my chest.
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[Host, are you done with the melodramatic inner monologue?]
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“…Yeah, yeah. What now?”
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[I’ve yet to install this body’s memories into you. Try not to faint when it hits.]
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“Memories? Wait—I don’t have any of them yet?”
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[Oh, look, he figured it out. Yes, genius. You’re currently an empty shell. I’ll handle it. Just lie down. Slight headache. No refunds.]
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Rolling my eyes at the system’s sass, I threw myself onto the bed.
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“Fine. Do it.”
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[Starting procedure in 3…2…1.]
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A dull ache flared in my skull. Images flickered past my mind’s eye like a storm of broken film reels. I clenched my teeth, letting them fuse into me until the pain dulled and the world steadied again.
When I opened my eyes, the maturity in my movements faded. My body responded like a child’s; every gesture, every blink, carried a strange fragility. Yet beneath it, determination burned hot.
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From today onward, I was no longer myself.
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I was—
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Leopold Geylhard.
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The door creaked open.
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A woman stepped in.
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Blonde hair cascading to her shoulders, green eyes bright as polished emeralds, lips soft yet firm—she carried the warmth of spring wrapped in a noble air.
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Lavinia Geylhard, my mother.
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I had seen her countless times in the inherited memories. But seeing her here, alive, breathing—was a different matter entirely.
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For a fleeting instant, she froze. Her gaze lingered on me with a faint unease, as though the child before her was no longer her own, but a stranger wearing his skin.
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‘What am I even thinking? Looks like the stress is really getting to me…’
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Shrugging off my messy thoughts, she walked closer toward me.
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Seeing my so-called mom pause for a moment with a faint frown, my heart started pounding faster. Cold sweat trickled down my back.
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‘Does she know? No… maybe she just felt something was off? Damn, I really need to get my act together.’
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Forcing myself to calm down, I plastered a childish smile and began my little act.
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“Little Leo, are you alright? You scared me when you suddenly fainted…”
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Grace Geylhard, my mother, leaned down and pulled me into her embrace. My small body sank into her pillow-like bre*st, while a sweet rosy scent drifted into my nose.
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‘Mmm, smells like roses… Wait—! That’s not important. Did she just say I fainted?’
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Flipping through my newly inherited memories, I realized I had actually collapsed earlier—during breakfast, of all times.
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Placing my hand on her bre*st (by pure accident, mind you) just to push myself up, I looked at her and gave the best innocent smile I could muster.
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“It’s nothing, Mom. Just a small headache. I’m fine now.”
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Relieved, Grace’s lips curved into a gentle smile that could melt stone.
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“Then that’s good. I even had a healer check you, and she said you’re perfectly healthy.”
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Before I could breathe easy, a sharp voice cut in.
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“Humph… of course he’s fine. He’s the one who always survives, after all.”
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The door burst open, and two girls stepped into the room—one about ten years old, the other barely six.
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And I knew exactly who that proud voice belonged to.
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Mira Geylhard.
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My big sister… and one of the infamous capture targets.
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and then Add to home screen.