I own nothing.
He was vaguely aware that he was dreaming. The fabric of his shirt scraped against cold marble, leaving a bloody smear as he fell forward in an indelicate fashion into the embrace of morpheus as he dreamed of Empires and Revolutions, of noble ends achieved through wicked means. A sharp agony burned his chest as an unseen blade pierced through his heart, imparting him with visions of righteous crusades and haunting requiems. He dreamed of wars waged without steel and sacrifices of blood.
Destroying worlds and creating them anew…
Lelouch opened his eyes to the sound of the morning call. Sharp shadows cast by the curtains that framed the window started to fade at the onset of daylight and the warm sunlight slipped through the small gaps in between, streaks of yellow creeping its way toward the wild and unkempt bundle of black.
Lelouch turned his body heavily as the light brushed against his eyes. His bed sank under his weight, tempting him with whispers of comfort. Yet he groaned as his mind refused to rest, the draining comfort finally convincing him to untangle himself from the blankets.
Rising slowly from his bed, he waited for the rest of his body to shake off the daze of sleep. A few moments later, he headed to the bathroom for his morning routine, automatically unbuttoning and shedding his pajamas along the way and depositing the items on the floor to pick up and fold for the maids to launder them later.
The ends of his hair were still damp when he entered the kitchen, where he found ingredients and utensils laid out across the counter as per his instructions to the chef the night before. Cooking was one of his hobbies and he usually prepared his breakfast himself even though he'd hired more than a few men to manage his kitchen otherwise.
At half past eight, when all had been washed and put away, Lelouch placed the covered silver platter onto a serving cart along with fruit, jam, and a pitcher of fresh juice. Taking the cart into the empty hallway that exclusively held his and his sister's separate living quarters, he came to rest before his study— entering to find everything just as he'd left it yesterday.
Lelouch sighed, placing his breakfast on the mahogany desk before he sank into the chair in his study and stretched his legs out under the desk. In front of him were another dozen letters from people he barely knew. He tossed them back onto the table without reading any, the mere thought of his associates only increased his migraine.
Finding the books he had been reading where he left them— Book of the Law, Magick Liber ABA, the Book of Thoth, the Holy Book of Thelema, and the Book of 777— he sank deeper into the deep leather chair and turned to the pristine back cover of the last grimoire where the signature of the author was emblazed in golden ink, a strange mixture of rage and gratitude almost overwhelming him as he did so.
Rage for once again allowing that man to influence his life once again and gratitude for the sole inheritance that had helped him when he was prepared to face a hostile world alone.
The set of original grimoires his father had entrusted to his late mother were the only keepsakes Lelouch had of that man, every other record of his father had been expunged from the public archives, and all other questions into the matter ended with his inquiries turning into dead ends. But the lackluster inheritance had helped him in ways material property could not, financially or otherwise.
Lelouch never had high expectations from his parents, neither in actual reality nor in his dreams. His mother was a habitual drinker who'd passed away due to an opium overdose, leaving behind two small children and seven original grimoires packed alongside a bundle of letters.
The irony was not lost on him. Numbers held power, and seven was the greatest amongst them all. God took seven days to create the world, Noah was given seven days of grace, Solomon finished his temple in seven years, and Jesus Christ spoke seven last words.
The sequence was obvious even to those who knew nothing of mysticism beyond common knowledge—seven holy spirits, seven sacred feasts, seven seals, seven trumpets, seven bowls, and even seven plagues.
He'd never pondered much about such topics before, preferring to direct his focus on more pressing concerns than the supernatural. Even though he'd been quick to secure numerous streams of income after the abrupt death of his mother, Lelouch had been rather busy trying to provide for his growing sister who'd been an infant at the time. Of course, fate's whimsical ways had ensured his interests changed quickly with his circumstances even if it had never been about his interests, though.
Lelouch Crowley had resolved to remain unshaken at any further unexpected events. It was a habit created from the experience of wading through the darker phases of his life, where being unprepared was only a step before being defeated.
But the sudden sickness that had seen the health of his sister quickly deteriorate had tested his resolve a thousand times over. Intellect had always been one of his defining traits but it was his heart that was being shaken this time and he couldn't help the dark resentment that surged inside of him whenever he remembered that his sister was the least deserving of the fate that had befallen her.
Lelouch closed his eyes and sank further into his seat, his chronic migraine flaring once again as he remembered the way everything suddenly had been taken from him.
His mansion was empty. He had asked for privacy and asked most of his employees to resign, receiving looks full of pity from his trusted employees in return as if they could understand his pain and sorrow.
The few that remained were been the closest thing to relatives for two children who had few other kin to call their own and Lelouch could not find it within his heart to let go of them this way even when the cold, calculated voice of reason at the back of his head told him it was for the best— that if he wanted to protect those he cared about then he should just push them away.
Since he was seven, Lelouch had learned to live for his sister and for no one else. He never bothered people with his issues, he never told anyone about what went through his mind and he'd never come to regret one moment of it. But these days, he found himself struck by a profound sense of isolation these days that he found hard to bear alone.
The emotion was not entirely foreign to him— it had been a constant companion throughout most of his life ever since the death of his mother. He could list a hundred friends and enemies, people who had intertwined their lives with his in inseparable ways. But none of them had ever truly known him, not even the closest of confidants who had inadvertently stayed by his side for years before suddenly being pushed away and it was far safer this way.
Lelouch knew he would only endanger ordinary people who knew nothing of the supernatural by allowing them to remain in the general vicinity of an original grimoire, much an entire collection of them. They were channels of sinful knowledge, and the weight of its existence could not be borne by the souls of mortals, the knowledge inside capable of instantly crushing a human mind.
For an unprotected human, just an unsuspecting glance at an original book of magical way could be as agonizing as dying a thousand harrowing deaths. Lelouch had deciphered some of them, receiving almost a permanent migraine in return even though he'd gone to great lengths to ensure his mind and soul remained protected.
Walking towards a wall of bookshelves, he put the Book of the Law back in its original place and sighed. He had only been able to decipher a single chapter inside over the course of the last six years, most of which he could not even understand.
A large section of the original grimoire was yet to be translated and as his learning pace increased understanding became increasingly difficult. Though he had good reason to suspect that he was growing closer to understanding the mysteries his father had left behind, that was probably because of his own private investigations unrelated to the original grimoires he had inherited.
Lelouch checked the neatly arranged bookshelf one last time and returned to his seat. He knew he was tired, that he had not had any period of real rest in nearly seven years, and he was approaching his limit.
Unlocking the centre drawer in his desk, he opened it and took out a brown folder with the words 'Health Report' printed on the front. He also took out the letter he had received yesterday, which he reread now. When he was finished, he sank back deeper into his chair.
In their last conversation, the matron taking care of his sister had made clear to him that she wanted him to visit Laura more frequently, every day if feasible. She also wanted Lelouch to help oversee the construction of the new hospital, hastening its completion if possible. Nevertheless, she assured him there were no problems if he happened to be busy, but it would be a great help if Lelouch could visit and cheer up Laura.
Lelouch closed his eyes and leaned backward, sighing. He loved his sister more than anything else and the plea to visit more struck him harder than he could have imagined. He fought the emotions that threatened to unravel him.
There remained in this room keys to power through which he could cure her sickness, a series of grimoires left behind by his father that would take years to organize, translate, and understand— but as the young teen thought of mystery and drew inspiration from the records of his predecessor who sought power for the sake of his dreams, he once again remembered what he really sought.
He would survive this, together with his sister.
Here it is, the rewrite that I promised and I've changed from the old version of this story other than poor grammar.
The most important one is the fact that Lelouch here does not remember his previous memories even if he has been reincarnated.
Secondly, Lelouch was poor in the previous version. He's rich here because I think purposely keeping himself and his sister impoverished for the previous reasons is not something he would choose when he is more than capable of being wealthy and laying low at the same time.
Parts of it were taken from my previous fanfic and it was hugely inspired by Lelouch of Britannia, A Certain Mental Isekai, and Holy Right- A Multiverse Occultist. Thanks for reading.