In Montgrave Ridge, it's normal to hear from a couple of children living there that if one were to be discipline, a couple of beatings often takes place.

After all, such 'beatings' are a form of discipline for most noble families living here. In Edgewood Academy, that too was no different.

However, in recent times, thanks to such 'beatings', the line between physical abuse and discipline has blurred so much so  that it is often ignored, even normalized. What once might have been seen as cruel or excessive is now regarded as simply part of a noble upbringing—"necessary tough love" to shape the next generation of heirs and aristocrats into their roles.

Which is why everytime this is brought up for discussion in the parliament house, there had been so many debates on banning such beatings even up till today so much so, literal fractions has been split between nobles and royal members alike.

His Aunt Claire is one of those who is very much against such 'violence', that is what the projector revealed. During future Ernestine's interview about her supposed biography about The Boy's family, this was mentioned in her own words.

Honestly, he ain't sure if the projector is accurate, but if it were true, then perhaps there is hope for him to leave his real mother and live with his father and aunt.

After all, the last thing he wants is to end up like his future self.

So his only reply was, "No, don't worry too much about it. She is just....agitated, that is all."

And obviously, this word was enough to stir disbelief from Aunt Claire, which is what he wanted deep down.

"Agitated?" she echoed, her voice laced with skepticism. "That's an odd way to describe someone who's responsible for raising a child. Tell me, has she been 'agitated' often lately?"

The Boy fidgeted under her gaze but remained silent, clutching the projector tightly under his coat. He could sense the rising concern in her tone, and it was precisely the reaction he had hoped for.

The projector's revelations had shown him many things, but one of the most striking was Aunt Claire's unwavering stance against the brutality that plagued noble households. Even in a society that normalized violence under the guise of tradition, she had spoken out, earning the ire of many but gaining the respect of those who saw the futility in such practices.

Ernestine's biography had painted a picture of Aunt Claire as a woman who fought against the current—a voice of reason drowned out by the overwhelming tide of noble customs. If that part of the projector's vision was true, then perhaps Aunt Claire could be the ally he desperately needed.

"It's just not a big deal. Just that....I don't think I am a good fit for Ernestine, that is all." he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. 

It wasn't an outright lie, but it wasn't the full truth either. 

In truth, he truly didn't see himself as a future Prince Consort. The thought of it churned his stomach. Though he was the son of a Marquess and had been groomed in the etiquette, politics, and social maneuvers expected of the aristocracy, becoming part of the royal family felt like a different battlefield altogether.

No matter how polished or skilled he might become, the whispers and judgment would follow him everywhere. In Montgrave Ridge, the nobility could be vicious, and the royal court was no exception. A man of lower rank marrying into a higher station wasn't unheard of, but it was rarely celebrated. Instead, it became fodder for gossip, with the man in question often labeled as opportunistic or incapable of achieving greatness on his own.

He had seen it before—fathers chastised, sons sneered at, and their accomplishments dismissed as mere byproducts of their wives' status. And while Ernestine's future as a royal might be bright, he had no desire to live in her shadow, constantly battling the sneering glances and venomous remarks of the court.

Aunt Claire tilted her head, her gaze softening as if she could see through the veil of his vague words. "Is that what this is about?" she asked, her voice quieter now. "Is she....bullying you?"

Again, this wasn't a full truth, but it wasn't a complete lie either.

If it wasn't for the damn projector, he wouldn't even know how things would turn out—how Ernestine would manipulate him into becoming a mere pawn in her grand political schemes. The glimpses of the future he had seen through that cursed device were enough to send chills down his spine. A life bound to Ernestine wasn't just undesirable; it was suffocating.

Aunt Claire narrowed her eyes slightly, not out of suspicion but concern as she finally says. "Alright," She decides, "If you come over to our place, I will have a talk with your father about breaking this engagement."

The Boy's eyes widened at Aunt Claire's sudden declaration. Her words hung in the air, heavy and unfamiliar. No one had ever stood up for him like this before—not against something as entrenched as his engagement to Ernestine. It was a pact between two powerful families, a union set in stone by tradition and expectation. The thought of breaking it seemed almost unthinkable.

"You... you'd really do that?" he asked cautiously, his voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and hope. "Even if it causes trouble for you?"

"In the first place, her family is barely second or third in line to the throne," Aunt Claire smiled softly, but there was a steeliness in her expression. "So with your father's wealth, the penalty fee is nothing, compared to your happiness."

The Boy blinked, stunned by Aunt Claire's nonchalant dismissal of what had always seemed like an immovable burden. Her words were simple, yet they carried a confidence that felt almost foreign to him. To her, the engagement wasn't an unbreakable contract or a political inevitability—it was just another obstacle that could be dismantled with the right leverage.

"My happiness?" he repeated softly, almost as if testing the words. They felt strange on his tongue, like a concept he wasn't entirely sure he deserved to claim. "You really think... that matters?"

"Of course, your father spoke about it all the time," Aunt Claire's expression softened, but the determination in her eyes remained steadfast. She knelt down slightly so she could look him directly in the eye. "He kept telling me that she isn't good enough for you, in terms of...other things."

The Boy's brows furrowed as he tried to process Aunt Claire's words. "Other things?" he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. There was a flicker of confusion in his eyes, mingled with curiosity. What could his father possibly mean? From what he had seen and heard, Ernestine was flawless in the eyes of the royals and nobles—poised, intelligent, and ambitious. Yet here was Aunt Claire, implying that his father saw something else, something less flattering.

Aunt Claire gave a small, knowing smile, her gaze softening further. "As a politician, she is fit," she said gently. "But it is pointless if she is doing all of this to make herself feel good, let alone, look good."

The Boy's chest tightened. It was as though Aunt Claire had given voice to feelings he hadn't been able to articulate himself. The glimpses he'd seen through the projector suddenly felt sharper, clearer. 

"But..." he hesitated, his voice trembling. "Can he actually do it? Without my mother's permission?"

As much as The Boy truly wants out of this engagement, it would be easier said than done.

The practice of breaking engagements among aristocrats is very common here, mostly due to one common sense: They are marrying each other for the sake of business transactions and to nurture the stability of the country instead of love. 

As a result, the marriage that is build with no love involve between both parties was very susceptible to adultery, and in worse cases like this, it even at times lead to heinous murders.

To prevent such things from occurring, the penalty system and strict laws are implement within the neighbourhood to prevent further bloodshed in the future. The problem for The Boy's situation is that since he is consider a legal minor, both parents have to consent in breaking the engagement, and if one disagree, the engagement sticks.

Of course, there is a legal loophole to settle this issue: Divorce.

Which happens to be taking place between both of his parents, however, this also posed another problem: Only the one who gets main child custody will get the final say.

Aunt Claire's expression shifted, as if she had sensed the weight of his concern. Her eyes were warm but held a quiet strength, acknowledging the complexity of the situation. "I know it seems impossible right now," she said softly, "but your father has the power to challenge your mother's authority, even if she doesn't want to let go of control. And when it comes to you, your well-being, he will fight."

The Boy shifted uncomfortably, his mind racing through the complications Aunt Claire had just laid bare. 

It wasn't a simple matter of just asking his father to break the engagement; there were too many rules, too many strings attached. 

For starters, adultery here is frowned upon.

And yes, even though it was obvious that both Aunt Claire and his father had an affair during his marriage to The Boy's mother, as much as there were tell-tale evidence to suggest his mother was the guilty party that forced his father to marry her, an affair is still one regardless.

"I'm not sure if father can fight her. Not if it comes down to that," The Boy said, his voice strained with a mixture of fear and doubt. "The affair is already out in the open, so it can't be concealed-"

"True, but it ain't as if the entire neighbourhood is oblivious as to why the affair started in the first place." Aunt Claire's gaze softened further, though her lips remained firm in their determination. "You don't forget: Your mother earned the marques title through marriage between her and father. Once the divorce takes place, since it isn't a secret given how everyone in the neighbourhood is aware of the circumstances, even if the affair is brought up in court, she will ultimately lose custody towards you. Also, she barely did her contribution as a noble's wife, so the privileges that came with your father will not end up with her legally."

The Boy's mind raced, trying to piece together Aunt Claire's words with the reality he knew. The notion that his father could actually gain custody, that the affair—while shameful—could ultimately work in their favor, was a concept he hadn't even considered.

"But...." The Boy murmured, his voice wavering, "She will do just about 'anything' to make sure this engagement will never break. After all...it's the only thing that will gain her royal connections."

And this part was also true.

His mother is an ambitious social climber, if anyone was to offer her a way up, even if it means someone of higher ranks opens their bedroom door to ensure she gives them their 'service' for the night, a sight that he was accustomed to seeing growing up, she'd do it without a second thought.

"There's always a risk in any battle or war that is being wage upon," she admitted, "but this is a risk worth taking. Your father has more allies than she realizes, and the truth about her manipulations will come out, one way or another. The court is not blind to this. And we can expose her for what she truly is."

The Boy looked up at her, searching her face for any sign of doubt, but there was none. Only quiet confidence and the kind of resolve that could topple kingdoms.

"You're not alone in this," Aunt Claire continued, her voice soft but firm. "You have people who will stand by you. Your father, myself... and there are others who know what your mother is capable of. The more you keep silent, the more she thinks she has control. But if you step forward, if you fight for yourself... it will change everything."

He swallowed hard, his throat tight with the weight of it all. Could he really step forward? Could he face the consequences of opposing his mother, knowing the depths of her ambition and ruthlessness? It was one thing to live under her roof, to hide from her schemes; it was another entirely to challenge her head-on.

But then, a small spark of something he hadn't felt in a long time flared within him: hope.

He wasn't entirely sure how it would unfold or what the consequences would be, but maybe... just maybe, there was a way out. A way to take control of his life.

"Alright," he said, his voice steadier than he felt. "I'll do it. I'll fight for this. I'll help however I can."

Aunt Claire smiled, her eyes soft with pride. "That's all I needed to hear. We'll take it one step at a time, and we'll make sure your future is yours to choose."

The Boy nodded, a sense of determination settling within him. This was just the beginning of a long road, but for the first time, he felt like he wasn't completely alone.

And for the first time, he could almost imagine a future free from his mother's grasp.

.......................................................................................

But that itself would be proven fruitless a week after.

His aunt and father were thrown in prison, under the charges of 'money laundering' when it was clear that the evidence were planted.

The Boy's world collapsed in that moment, as if the fragile hope he'd just clung to had been shattered into a million pieces.

The charges were outrageous—money laundering? His father never once consider pocketing money, hell, when his paternal grandfather yelled at his father about divorcing his mother to be with his aunt while threatening to cut all financial support, his father had always stood firm, refusing to betray his principles. His father's wealth was hard-earned since cutting ties with him, tied to a name that had always stood for honor and tradition. 

The Boy stood frozen in disbelief as the news hit him like a freight train. Aunt Claire and his father, both imprisoned, both falsely accused of a crime they didn't commit. 

The worst part was seeing the people who had once stood by them begin to disappear. Allies who had fought with his father and Aunt Claire suddenly fell silent or vanished altogether. Some met tragic ends in suspicious accidents, while others left the country in fear of being swept into the same trap. It was like a dark cloud had descended upon them, wiping away every ounce of resistance.

The Boy couldn't bring himself to comprehend it all. His mind raced, yet it felt as though everything around him had come to a standstill. How could this happen? How could the world suddenly turn upside down, just when he had found the courage to fight for himself, for freedom?

The news was everywhere, plastered across newspapers, whispered behind closed doors, and spreading like wildfire. His father and Aunt Claire, two pillars of the rebellion he had counted on, now held as prisoners, their names dragged through the mud, branded as criminals in a game he had never signed up to play.

He had never seen the legal system so twisted, so completely weaponized against them.

His thoughts scrambled in the wake of the announcement. Could it really be his mother? It wasn't impossible. Her ambition knew no bounds, and she had always viewed him and his father as tools to climb the social ladder. But the idea of her masterminding such a web of deceit seemed too complex for someone so short-sighted. After all, she had always been a pawn in larger games. Was it possible that someone had simply used her as a means to an end?

Then again, she is too stupid to do such a thing.

The only thing he could think of is someone definitely use her to set the crimes in motion, cause so far, nothing much has indicated to suggest that his father and eventual step-mother would end up in prison.

The Boy's mind was a whirlwind of confusion and fear, each thought tumbling over the other. He tried to piece together the puzzle, but it seemed as if someone had thrown the pieces into the air, scattering them beyond his reach. How could something so catastrophic happen so quickly?

"I didn't think his mother is easily manipulated just by a couple of words." His ears perked, recognizing that familiar voice anywhere.

The Boy froze, his heart skipping a beat as he turned toward the source of the voice across the hallway of Edgewood Academy before deciding to find a corner to hide. He hadn't expected to hear it now, in the midst of everything falling apart.

"Anything to be connected to my family, it wasn't difficult to convince her what she should do and shouldn't do."

The Boy's pulse quickened as he moved swiftly toward a nearby alcove, heart racing. He wasn't sure whether it was fear or curiosity that had pushed him into hiding, but something about the voice he'd just heard filled him with a mix of dread and cautious hope.

The voice had been cold, calculating, but familiar, and yet, there was something about it that sent a chill down his spine.

"I didn't think his mother is easily manipulated just by a couple of words." The voice continued, soft yet venomous. "Anything to be connected to my family, it wasn't difficult to convince her what she should do and shouldn't do."

The words echoed in the Boy's mind, each syllable feeling like a weight, an undeniable truth that couldn't be ignored. Convince her? He had always known his mother to be driven by her own desires, but could she really have been manipulated so easily? Who could have orchestrated such a thing, especially if it had been so subtle?

Carefully peeking around the corner, he saw the figure—one that had always seemed to hover at the edges of his life, an enigmatic presence who always seemed to know more than he should. His eyes narrowed as the identity of the speaker finally clicked.

It was his arranged fiance, Ernestine.

The Boy's heart pounded in his chest as he watched Ernestine stand a few feet away, her posture poised and regal, as always. 5-year-old just like him, and yet she exuded an unsettling aura of control, an icy composure that always made her seem older than her years. Her sharp eyes scanned the hallway with calculated precision, and the conversation she was having with someone—likely a servant or an ally—was laced with a level of cold authority that made the Boy's skin crawl.

Now, he personally has met up with other royal children who are like Ernestine, but unlike the rest of them, for some reason, there was something particularly chilling about Ernestine. While other royals or nobles might have worn their power openly, Ernestine seemed to wear hers like a second skin, as though it was her natural state. Her demeanor wasn't just one of superiority—it was suffocating, like an invisible force that made those around her bend and conform to her will without realizing it.

"Seriously, it's one thing since you barely had feelings for, but why maintain this engagement? He is now a son of a criminal, you barely deserve it. You qualify for someone better like that man you would eventually fall for in the future." One of her followers questioned the little girl.

"One can't achieve a happy ending without villains, no?" 

Ernestine's voice was calm, smooth, and almost disinterested as she responded to the question, but there was a distinct sharpness behind her words that sent a chill down the Boy's spine. 

The casual cruelty in her tone was like a revelation to him. It wasn't just that Ernestine was cold or calculating—it was that she seemed to believe in her own narrative, one where she was the protagonist, and everyone else, especially him, was a mere supporting character.

The Boy had always known something was off about Ernestine, but this? This was a new level of cold detachment, a revelation that made his stomach churn. It was as if the mask she had wore around him had slipped.

"You could've use someone from another marques family, why him?"

"Why not him?" Her words were cold, sharp, like daggers thrown with precision, yet there was an undercurrent of something darker in them—something that he couldn't quite put his finger on. "His family wealth.....I would need it to survive before wiping out the aristocrat system, right? As well as this school."

The Boy stood there, frozen, as Ernestine's words echoed in his mind.  She can't be serious, right!?

Had she lost her mind!?

The more he hears of this, the more livid he grew. There are other children whom their families sent them here to study, including the children of under-privilege backgrounds. While as a son of a noble he barely acknowledges the families who are not nobles, where is everyone going to make money without the school?

Edgewood Academy itself isn't your ordinary privilege school, if anything, it was a breeding ground for the next generation of leaders, thinkers, and influencers. It was a place where the children of nobles, royals, and even commoners with great potential were groomed for power and success. The Boy had always known that the academy wasn't just about learning—it was about making connections, securing your place in society, and ensuring your survival in a world where wealth and power reigned supreme.

But Ernestine... she was talking about destroying it all. Wiping out the aristocracy, tearing down the very system that had given her the opportunity to rise. Was that really her goal? To burn everything to the ground just to claim the ashes for herself?

Actually, come to think of it....judging her behaviour, it is possible for her to simply open a school under her own name and follow a similar system like Edgewood once she shuts down the academy. That way, not only she ends up winning the hearts of the community, she will also control the next generation of leaders, shaping them into loyal supporters of her vision. 

In a way, people will look up to her as 'The Queen of the People' in the future.

The Boy's mind raced as he tried to piece together the scope of Ernestine's ambitions. She wanted to tear down the aristocracy, yes, but what she really wanted was to replace it with herself at the top. She wasn't an anarchist trying to topple the system for the sake of chaos—no, she was a would-be dictator who saw the current power structures as merely stepping stones to her own reign.

The idea of her creating a new system, where she controlled everything from the top down, felt suffocating. If she managed to build such an empire, she would never need to rely on anyone again. She would make the rules, decide who had value, and crush anyone who dared to oppose her. However, to open a school as similar as Edgewood, it's one thing to operate a school since it takes a lot of money to build and run one, but to cover everything would cost beyond her royal family's assets.

Which is why she probably decided that throwing both his father and aunt in prison would mean not only this marriage will continue on, but legally, as long as they remain married on paper, his family assets will ultimately fall into her hands because of her family status. Adding the fact that the divorce could not take place since his father is now in prison, his mother will still be allow to retain the privileges of a marquis's wife. Knowing his mother, throwing his father in prison will benefit her financially in more ways than one.

Plus, since now his father has a criminal record, even if the divorce goes through, primary custody will fall on his mother's lap, meaning The Boy will never get the chance to have his engagement with her broken out.

The Boy shuddered at the thought of what she was capable of if she was left unchecked.

"Also, where else can he go now that his way out is cut off? No money, no father and stepmother, he would have no choice but to accept his fate as a cannon fodder until the age of 18."

He clenched his fists, feeling a surge of anger and helplessness while he wonders what does she mean when she mentions the word 'cannon fodder'.

His initial instinct was to confront her, to demand answers, but he knew better than to do so.

Confronting someone of a higher rank without evidence won't work, especially since now his family is in prison. If he was going to go after someone like Ernestine, he needs to think big.

But at the age of 4 with no one to turn to, where could he had gone?

He thought of the police, but the idea was laughable. The system was already compromised, manipulated by those with wealth and connections. Who would believe him—a child—over someone as formidable as Ernestine? And even if they did, what could they do against her?

He sank back against the cold stone wall of the academy's corridor, his thoughts spinning like a storm. There was no one to turn to, no safety net left. Every path he considered seemed blocked by the towering walls of aristocratic power and corruption.

.................................................................................

For a period, he fell into despair.

He withdrew from everyone, retreating into himself further into the shadows. 

The lively boy who had once imagined a future full of possibilities was now a ghost of his former self, wandering the halls of the mansion with hollow eyes and heavy footsteps. It's no different than school, as no one reached out to him; even the teachers avoided him, wary of getting involved in the scandal surrounding his family. 

Even the meals grew tasteless, his bed cold and unwelcoming. 

Well, to be fair, the meals remain the same as it is from a 5 star private chef hired by his mother, but depression tend to ruin his tastebuds. The silence in his life was deafening, broken only by the occasional cutting remarks from Ernestine or her entourage.

Despair gnawed at him, whispering insidious lies: There's no way out. No one will help you. She's already won.

For weeks, perhaps months, he believed those lies. His world had grown so small, so suffocating, that he couldn't see a way forward. He felt trapped in a game he didn't understand, one where every move seemed predetermined to end in his failure.

And yet, even in the depths of his despair, perhaps somewhere in him had a small ember of defiance burned within him.

Because during the times he was cooped up in his bedroom, he was busy entertaining himself with the future telling projector that tell him stories of his other classmates and friends he made in Edgewood Academy. The same one he stole from the ball.

At first, he used it to escape his suffocating reality. The lives it depicted were full of adventure, hope, and challenges, a stark contrast to the bleak monotony of his days. Through the projector, he saw glimpses of his closest friends excelling at the academy—one mastering advanced sciences, another honing their skills in diplomacy. Their laughter, their triumphs, and even their struggles played out before him like vivid dreams.

But then gradually, his friends all lost all of that in one go, thanks to certain common issues that were noticeably similar like his plight: All of them have villain fates.

One by one, their bright futures dimmed. The friend who had mastered advanced sciences was accused of academic fraud, their reputation shattered. Another, who had shown such promise in diplomacy, was betrayed by allies and forced into a scandal that ruined their standing. Each story unraveled into despair, and the Boy began to see the threads that connected them.

They weren't just unlucky. They weren't just victims of random misfortune. These were deliberate, calculated moves—schemes designed to topple promising individuals before they could rise too high. The term "villain fates" began to echo in his mind, a cruel label for those who, despite their potential, were destined to serve as stepping stones or scapegoats for others' ambitions.

And in each story, lurking just beneath the surface, was the shadow of Ernestine.

Her influence wasn't always direct, but it was undeniable. Sometimes it came in the form of a whisper campaign that turned friends into enemies. Other times, it was through systems she controlled, leveraging her power to create obstacles that seemed insurmountable. It was as though she was systematically ensuring that those who might challenge her were neutralized, their futures sabotaged before they could even take flight.

The Boy's stomach churned as he realized the scope of her plans. It wasn't just about him; she was playing a much larger game. Ernestine wasn't content with dismantling his life—she was building a world where she alone stood at the top, and everyone else was relegated to roles that served her narrative.

To top it off, as unsurprising as his suspicions towards the other attendees at the soiree event when he first discovered the projector, even Ernestine's friends and followers will benefit everything out of his friends: Fame, fortune, as well as the opportunities they could have never earned on their own—one group's ruin paved the way for another's ascent.

Ernestine's closest allies, the sycophants who surrounded her and echoed her words, were not just benefiting from her schemes; they were complicit. They gained from the destruction of others, basking in glory stolen from the ashes of their peers.

The Boy could see it clearly now. Ernestine wasn't just ambitious; she was a narcissistic psychopath.

As the 5-year-old boy's fists clenched as he sat in his dimly lit bedroom, his knuckles whitening with every revelation. So that's what she meant. 

Piecing together the puzzle as the weight of her words settled over him, he recalled when he had first overheard Ernestine referring to him as "cannon fodder," it hadn't made sense at the time—just a cryptic phrase from her lips that he had filed away, unsure whether to be offended or confused.

But now, it was all too clear.

He, as well as the other children whom she deemed as 'villains' were never meant to rise. They weren't just obstacles to be overcome; they were the sacrificial lambs Ernestine needed to prop up her narrative. Their roles had been predetermined, their fates written long before they even realized they were playing her game.

His despair began to morph into something sharper. Anger. Resentment. 

It's true, he admits, they do happen to have such devious thoughts. After all, realistically, life as a child of a noble or royal family wasn't without its complexities. Children born into privilege were often taught to navigate the cutthroat world of aristocratic politics from an early age. They were expected to be ambitious, calculating, and, if necessary, ruthless. So destroying other's worth is in fact a way of life. As well as cheating in competitions at times.

Yet, even in such a world, there were unspoken rules—boundaries that Ernestine seemed to delight in crossing without hesitation. In a way, if she didn't know the future....let alone, the projector's existence, it would've been perfectly acceptable for her to orchestrate such things to befall onto them.

But considering she is not only aware but actively leveraging the knowledge of the future, rather than the fact Ernestine could've just simply prevent it or at least in her shoes, turn a blind eye and live about her life, she chosen to just simply burn any hope of redemption for those who are at times 'forced' to become villains, no?

For the Boy, the revelation came like a bolt of lightning. 

After a while, something in him has changed.

If all his friends were destined to become "villains," cast aside by a system that rewarded manipulation and power above all else, then he would find a way to rewrite that narrative. He wouldn't let Ernestine—or anyone else—dictate their fates. He didn't know how yet, but he swore to himself that he would find a way to fight back.

................................................................................................................

The first part of his plan is to simply do a couple of test runs.

One can't just simply go 'change the future' without understanding the consequences, especially when the future is as interconnected as it is. So, the Boy knew he would have to tread carefully, like a strategist planning a war, step by step, and without rushing.

The projector itself as mention isn't completely accurate, it after all runs under a A.I system, which means you would need to simply feed in sufficient details into whatever you scheme onto the person in order to see the trajectory of one's future. As this is a prototype when it was first introduced during the soiree at that time, not to mention, privately funded by the royal family, Ernestine who is a relative of the royal family was the first to try it out since there were allege plans made that this projector would be sold as a 'story telling toy' among the aristocrat children.

Of course, whoever made this projector, the intentions were perfectly innocent at first.

Ernestine's dream was that she wanted to become a criminal journalist that champions human rights at that time before the projector changed her personality, which is why by the time The Boy stole it from her, the only images he was able to watch is a future self of her as an adult in Journalism clothes, being interviewed by famous tv hosts over the criminal biographies that would eventually became bestsellers in the future.

If he wanted to pick up details about one's future, it can only be through her narration in summary over the chain of events in every biography she has ever published.

In other words, much to his disappointment, the projector itself can't show exact images of certain events, such as locations, faces of individuals to avoid, or even certain details are not in complete specifics. The only way to abstract details are through her word of mouth, while he jotted all of this down in words in some book.

It wasn't as detailed or as reliable as he had hoped.

He had hoped to see the future play out before him in full, to have a clear, visual understanding of the paths that awaited people, so he could alter them with precision. But instead, he had to rely on Ernestine's interpretation of the future, filtered through her experiences and personal biases. People in general are born liars, which also means the biographies she would write in the future cannot be taken at face value. 

Ernestine's biases, her personal motives, and her inherent narcissism would all color her account of events.

This realization made the Boy pause.

If he was going to rewrite the future, he needed more than just the projector's limited and filtered glimpses. He fell into deep thought over Ernestine's schemes as he wonders whether there are any biographies she plans to write in the future with more specifics.

After all, so far, the projections he had watched through so far had certain things in common: They are not only bestsellers, but they made millions in pounds.

Knowing that Ernestine is such a self-centred narcissist, she would need to cash in a lot of criminal biographies to amass millions in wealth after wiping out the aristocrat system. While he was able to identify who would become her 'victims' in general, he can't help but wonder if there was anyone among her victim list that she has taken a spectacular liking.

After all, to drive someone into road of villainy in order to make money out of their misery, she would need to simply trick them into committing those acts as there is a common pattern from his point of view:

The more outrageously atrocious the acts, there more there is to write, then this would've been enough to earn public interest and in the process earn her a stable income.

The Boy pondered deeper, trying to work through the specifics. So far, he had listen to the biography that she wrote about him, the amount she earned in revenue isn't the highest. 

If anything, much to his surprise, it was mostly about a girl who would eventually change his life in many ways. A girl who is yet to be born in a couple of months time.