UnHero: The Crowned Phantom System

A lingering chill clung to the air as Kael stepped into his room, the weight of the evening pressing down on him like a silent specter.

The vast estate—once a home, now a gilded cage—offered no comfort. His father, Lucien, hadn't even acknowledged his return. He hadn't expected him to.

Nor did Evelyn or Aldric—his stepmother and stepbrother—who carried on in their world, where Kael was nothing more than an inconvenient shadow cast upon their perfect life.

He exhaled, his breath barely a whisper in the dim glow of his chamber. The walls here did not echo warmth, only silence.

Morning arrived, draped in gray.

The sky, heavy with brooding clouds, seemed on the verge of unraveling. Kael awoke to the sound of the deliberate knocking. Three firm raps against the wooden door.

"Master Kael."

The steward's voice was neutral, a practiced monotone. It was seven o'clock.

"Your presence is required in the master's chamber."

His father was summoning him. Along with Evelyn.

Kael sat on the edge of his bed for a long moment, gathering his thoughts like shattered glass.

Then, without a word, he rose.

The corridors of the mansion stretched endlessly, each step echoing against the marble floor. This place, drenched in opulence, always felt void of warmth. Every inch was meticulously designed—ornate chandeliers, towering oil paintings, the faint scent of aged wood and floral incense—but none of it belonged to him.

Most of the servants he crossed moved past him like ghosts, their gazes carefully averted.

Kael had learned early that here he was, something to be overlooked.

His fingers brushed against the cool brass of the double doors before pushing them open.

Lucien's office loomed before him.

A room carved from old power and quiet intimidation, lined with towering bookshelves and heavy velvet curtains that swallowed the light.

At the heart of it, behind a desk of polished mahogany, Lucien sat.

His father was an imposing figure. Tall and broad-shouldered, his physique was carved from discipline and dominance. Handsome in a way that demanded attention. His eyes, a piercing sunfire crimson, burned with a perpetual intensity—measuring, scrutinizing.

Behind him, Evelyn stood like a carefully placed ornament.

She was dressed in an elegant two-piece gown that clung to her every curve, her long velvet hair cascading over her shoulders. Her skin was pale and flawless, a porcelain beauty concealing something sharp beneath.

Her sunflower-hued eyes studied Kael with the same quiet scrutiny as Lucien—though hers held something else.

Amusement. And beside them, with an easy smirk and arms crossed, was Aldric. Kael's stepbrother was everything he wasn't in their father's eyes—charismatic, confident, effortlessly brilliant. The favored son.

"You took your time," Lucien said at last, his voice smooth but lined with the weight of authority.

Kael held his father's gaze, resisting the instinct to lower his eyes.

In this house, weakness was prey.

"You summoned me," he replied, his voice steady.

Lucien leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. A measured pause.

Then, the storm behind his crimson eyes stirred.

"Yes. I did."

Kael swallowed back the unease curling in his gut.

A quiet exhale. A shift in the air.

Aldric lingered by the door for a moment, amusement dancing in his eyes. He tilted his head, his smirk widening, as if Kael's presence alone was entertainment enough.

Then, with a slow, deliberate turn, he left—his footsteps fading into the hall.

The room settled into silence.

Lucien remained seated behind his desk, unreadable. The weight of his presence filled the space, yet he uttered nothing more.

Kael had long since learned that his father's silence was never empty. It was calculated. A quiet noose, tightening.

A gentle rustle of fabric.

Evelyn stepped forward, the soft clinking of jewelry accompanying her every movement. Her smile was a mask, perfect in its insincerity.

"My, my… you've grown so much, Kael."

She reached out.

Her fingers, delicate and cool, brushed against his as she handed him an ornate quill—a Binding Pencil.

Kael felt the weight of it, the smooth ebony handle crafted for finality. This was no ordinary pen. It was a seal of law, a chain in ink.

Evelyn's honeyed voice dripped with forced warmth.

"You're now at the perfect, legal age," she mused, tilting her head in feigned delight. Then, with a theatrical little gasp, she added, "Oh, I almost forgot—belated happy birthday, dear."

A lie.

No one in this house had ever celebrated his birthday.

Kael said nothing.

Her manicured fingers gestured toward a document sprawled across Lucien's desk. Thick parchment. Gold-embossed lettering. Sealed in expectation.

"It's time, isn't it?" Evelyn purred. "To help the family. To do your part."

His fingers curled.

"Help the family."

The words slithered from her lips like a velvet noose.

Kael's eyes flicked toward the contract.

A single glance was enough.

Seraphine. His mother. Her name, stripped of warmth, reduced to mere ink on a page. Everything she had left for him… now listed under "Family Assets."

His blood boiled.

His grip on the Binding Pencil tightened—then snapped open.

The quill fell, clattering onto the desk.

Before Evelyn could react, Kael's hands moved.

The sound of ripping paper tore through the office.

Once. Twice. Then more.

The contract—a carefully woven trap of legality and control—was shredded in his grasp.

Evelyn's breath hitched, her perfect mask fracturing for just a second.

Kael let the torn pieces fall to the ground. Like ashes of something never meant to burn.

Then, lifting his gaze, he met his father's eyes.

Cold. Unyielding. A silent storm.

For the first time, Kael spoke.

"I am not giving away my mother's inheretance."

Lucien stood.

Even without movement, his presence loomed. The polished wood of the desk barely separated them, but in truth, an abyss had long existed between father and son.

His voice, when it came, was cold. Measured. Unshaken.

"I never believed you would sign, Kael."

A statement, not a regret.

"Not when you still cling so desperately to her memory."

His golden, crimson eyes flickered with something unreadable, but whatever it was, it did not matter.

The words had already struck deep.

Kael's breath sharpened. His fingers twitched, aching to clench into fists.

But before his rage could find words, Lucien merely gestured.

"Then begone."

The finality of it was a blade to the chest.

"If you refuse to sign, then you are nothing to this family."

Kael's world seemed to lurch. For a moment, all he could hear was the dull roar of blood in his ears.

Then—

"Fine."

The word was raw. Fierce. Unforgiving.

Kael's voice cracked with anger as he stepped forward, fists shaking at his sides.

"Then I will go. But don't pretend I was ever part of this family, to begin with."

Lucien did not flinch.

Kael let out a breath—harsh, unsteady.

His gaze swept across the room—the grand walls, the luxurious furniture, the suffocating space that had never once felt like home.

"This house… is nothing to me."

Then, without another word, he turned.

Heavy steps. The weight of a last goodbye.

But then—

"How dare you?"

Evelyn's voice curdled in fury.

Kael did not stop walking.

"You ungrateful wretch!"

A sharp shift in the air.

A flick of her wrist.

Then—a sound like cracking ice.

Kael's instincts screamed.

Above him, the light fractured—as if the very air had splintered.

Crystalline shards. Razor-sharp. Suspended midair.

A breath away from being unleashed.

Kael's fingers twitched, poised to move.

Then—

"Enough."

Lucien's voice sliced through the room.

A command. Absolute.

Evelyn froze.

A tense silence followed, but the shards trembled—reluctant to vanish.

She turned to Lucien, incredulous. "You would let him walk away?!"

But Lucien was already sitting back down, his gaze fixed on the papers before him—as if Kael no longer existed in the room.

"Let him go."

Evelyn's expression twisted in barely contained fury.

But under Lucien's command, the shards cracked and shattered into nothing.

Kael exhaled.

He did not look back.

As he reached the doorway, Evelyn's rage simmered behind him, curling around her like a storm waiting to break.

The sound of wine being poured.

A slow, controlled sip.

Then—the quiet clink of glass meeting the table.

"You'll regret this, boy."

Kael walked in. Unyielding. Unbroken.

Let them call him a fool.

He was free. And that was enough.

The door to his room stood ajar. But it was no longer his.

Inside, everything had been stripped bare.

The bed where he had spent sleepless nights, the desk where he once traced the edges of old photographs—gone.

His books, clothes, and even the smallest trinkets that held forgotten memories were all sealed within a single-dimensional luggage.

A cruel efficiency. A simple message.

Kael's fingers curled around the handle of the luggage. It wasn't heavy—physically.

But the weight of its meaning threatened to crush him.

Outside, the mansion loomed in its cold grandeur.

The air was crisp; the sky was shrouded in thick clouds, mirroring the storm within his chest.

As he stepped beyond the threshold, leaving behind the only home he had ever known, his vision blurred.

Tears burned against his skin—not for the house, not for Evelyn, not for Aldric.

But for the father he once knew.

The one who used to place a hand on his shoulder.

The one who told him stories of strength, of the legacy of the Ferris bloodline.

Now gone.

Replaced by a man who had discarded him like an inconvenience.

A hollow breath escaped him.

Then—

"Young Master!"

A voice, thick with emotion.

Kael barely turned before Maria—one of the mansion's head servants—rushed toward him.

Her eyes were swollen with unshed tears.

"Master Lucien… he's become so cold," she whispered, voice trembling.

Kael said nothing.

Maria reached out, hesitating, before patting his shoulder.

"You will not be alone."

Kael blinked.

"We will serve you, my lord," Maria muttered, her voice raw. "A week. Wait for us."

Something in Kael's chest tightened.

He swallowed, nodded, and then stepped away.

Maria stood at the gates, watching as Kael entered the car—his mother's car.

A vehicle his father had never once used.

As the engine rumbled to life, Kael did not look back.

The journey was quiet.

Anthony, his driver, did not speak.

Kael stared out the window, watching the city blur past.

Another suburban district. Another remnant of his mother's memory.

The house.

It was not as vast as the Ferris mansion, but it was grand in its way—elegant.

It should have felt familiar.

Instead, it reeked of strangers.

Kael stepped out of the car, shoulders squared, his heart steady.

At the gates, the people who had occupied his mother's home—Evelyn's relatives—stood in confusion.

"Young master?"

Kael did not hesitate.

"Empty the quarters."

They blinked.

"Pardon?"

"Clear everything that is not mine," he repeated, voice cold.

They exchanged glances, unease creeping into their expressions.

"W-What's wrong?"

Kael stepped forward.

"Leave."

No shouting. No arguments. Just a command.

One by one, they scrambled.

By nightfall, the house was his again.

The silence was heavy.

But for the first time in years—

It felt like home.

Days passed, and the house transformed.

The Master's Chamber—once a place defiled by strangers—was his now.

His belongings were carefully placed, the air no longer carrying the scent of unfamiliar perfumes and old dust.

Each guest room was cleared, stripped of the remnants of those who had no right to stay.

With every passing moment, the house breathed again.

Where there was once clutter, there was now order.

Where there was once intrusion, there was now peace.

The Veyne Estate stood proud—not vast like the Ferris mansion, but whole.

Its halls no longer echoed with the voices of Evelyn's people.

Instead, it hummed with a quiet warmth, its walls welcoming him back.

The maids continued their work, their presence unspoken yet steady, tending to the house with familiar reverence.

They were not like the servants in the Ferris mansion.

They were his mother's people.

And they would remain.

Kael stood by the study's large window, gazing at the estate grounds.

The past clung to him like a lingering shadow—the Ferris name, the weight of it, the chains.

But no longer.

"No more."

Today, he severed it.

Today, he is known as Kael Veyne.

The name of his mother.

The name of the woman they tried to erase.

"Young Master."

Kael turned.

The head steward—an older man with sharp eyes yet a gentle presence—stood at the doorway.

He carried papers.

"Everything has been arranged," the steward said, stepping forward.

Kael took the papers, his gaze steady.

His new name—Kael Veyne—etched in ink, bound by the law.

He had been cast out of the Ferris household.

But he was never without a home.

This place, his mother's legacy, would stand tall again.

His beginning—not as the discarded son of Lucien Ferris, but as something more.

The Veyne Mansion was no longer empty.

A week had passed since he left his father's estate, and with it came the return of familiar faces.

At dawn, Maria arrived.

She was not alone.

A group of servants followed—men and women who had once served in the Ferris household but had never forgotten whom they truly served.

They bowed before him, but not out of forced obligation.

Out of loyalty.

"Young Master Kael," Maria spoke, her voice trembling with both relief and resolve.

"As we vowed, we have come. If you would have us, we wish to serve you once more."

Kael gazed at them—at Maria's unwavering eyes, at the others who stood behind her, waiting for his word.

He didn't need to think twice.

"Welcome home," he said simply.

Relief swept through them.

The weight they had carried—the uncertainty, the fear of being left behind—vanished in an instant.

The lead steward, Tian, wasted no time.

He had already begun making their employment official, ensuring that each of them had a rightful place here.

No longer servants of the Ferris name.

No longer bound by Evelyn's cruel whims.

Here, in the Veyne household, they were family.

Kael adjusted to his new life with surprising ease.

Days were no longer filled with icy glares and suffocating expectations.

He woke up to genuine smiles, to voices that spoke to him with warmth.

He dined not in silence, but in companionship.

He walked through the halls of his mother's home without feeling like an intruder.

Yet, even in comfort, his mind wandered.

At night, he found himself standing on the mansion's balcony, gazing up at the vast sky.

The stars flickered above—distant, yet guiding.

"How will I live on?"

That question weighed on him.