Seojin had spent the past hour soaking in soap bubbles inside a cozy bathtub, though it wasn't exactly comfortable.
It felt like bathing into someone else's house, but it did the job.
"Seriously… how unlucky can I get? Even if I managed to survive the assassination…" he muttered, his gaze drifting down his body, "what was his terminal illness, anyway?"
Even after reading every chapter of the novel for seven whole years, he had never learned the exact illness of the youngest Hart. The author had only ever alluded to it vaguely, and the memories flooding into his head were just as useless.
Cursing under his breath one last time, he rinsed off and stepped out of the washroom.
He was in the middle of drying his hair with a towel when he froze mid-step, seeing the maid was standing by his desk, calmly cleaning up the empty cup.
"Ah. Young Lord?" the maid met his eyes. "Please cover up that sorry thing."
"Eehhhhh?!" Seojin shrieked, instantly covering his bird. "Why are you here?!"
This situation was awkward for a guy in various ways, especially for a virgin loser like him who hadn't had contact with a girl in real life for over a decade.
However, the maid whose name was now known to him thanks to the memories that surged in earlier, Iria, remained completely unbothered as if she had already seen it a hundred times before.
She simply picked up the cup and saucer, placed them neatly onto the tray, and sighed.
"What a profoundly aggravating sound, Young Lord," she said. "Is there any reason you're screaming so much this morning? Are you really perhaps… unwell?"
'So much…?' Seojin thought. 'So what? I got dragged into another world without permission. I'll scream if I want.'
Still, he forced himself to act like the original Seven Hart, not to make her even suspicious after his stupid and dumb reaction just this morning. Raising more suspicion was the last thing he needed.
"M-Mind your own business," he said, turning his back to her. "If you're done cleaning, then leave."
"Ah. Of course. My apologies, Young Lord."
Iria turned to leave, but paused at the door.
"Please dress casually today," she added. "As per your request yesterday, you'll be accompanying me to the village to purchase kitchen ingredients."
"Village…?" Seojin echoed, momentarily confused.
"As you requested," she said calmly.
The door shut closed.
With Iria out of the room, Seojin finally felt there was no need to hide the warmth creeping up his cheeks. Blushing. Hard.
This was, once again, a brand-new situation for a virgin like him.
Still, no matter how much he searched through the memories that had settled into his mind, he couldn't recall ever requesting to visit the village. In fact, he had no memories of the village at all, neither its layout nor what it looked like.
'Did I only inherit the major memories…? Fudge. How unpleasant.'
"Hah," he sighed. "What kind of young lord doesn't even visit his own citizens?"
After a brief pause, his expression steadied.
"Still… this is a chance. A rare one at that!"
Indeed, there was no better opportunity to learn more about this place and about this world.
That said, he took his sweet time getting dressed.
The closet was filled to the brim with options, but the problem lay elsewhere. By "casual," one would normally mean everyday clothing such as something simple and plain.
Point is, there were no such clothes like those here.
Every outfit consisted of pristine polos or long-sleeved shirts that practically demanded a tie to look presentable. And that was a problem, because he had no idea how to tie one.
"Damn it all," he muttered. "Just how much of a loser are you, Seven Hart?"
Still, it wasn't as if he had a choice.
So he ended up heading to the village wearing a white polo with its top two buttons undone despite the cold winter air, black trousers, and polished shoes that screamed nobility. Casual, or anything close to it, was out of the question.
As expected, the villagers couldn't help but stare. His plan to stay low and shop while quietly gathering information was rendered utterly useless.
Though, at least, he wasn't wearing a tie.
Iria had asked about it earlier, but he had brushed her off, claiming he simply didn't feel like wearing one today. Truth is, it was just an excuse that was, admittedly, suspicious.
From what he remembered, Seven Hart always wore a tie. Or rather, until recently. It had always been Iria who tied it for him, and his hatred toward her naturally meant refusing to let her do so.
'I need to fix this somehow,' he thought.
He had been thrown into this world alone. Pushing away the one person closest to the body he now possessed was nothing short of idiotic.
Anyway, they've been walking for a while now. The village itself wasn't large, nor was it particularly wealthy. The village was made up of small wooden cottages built on stone foundations, their sloped roofs tiled or thatched against the winter snow. Firewood and barrels were stacked neatly outside each home, while simple torches burned above doorways, warding off the cold.
It had been a long time since he'd been anywhere resembling a province. This place felt like one.
A modest fence encircled the village, dotted here and there with stone lamps that marked the boundary, separating the village from open fields and grassy plains and the dense forest.
His shoes crunched over the snowy dirt path.
"Are you not cold, Young Lord?" Iria asked. "Would you like me to cast a healing spell? At the very least, it can ward off some of the cold."
"…Go ahead."
"I figured you wouldn't agree, but please allow me just this once. It would be terrible if you were to fall ill and worsen your already worse health. So—"
She stopped mid-sentence.
Iria turned to him, eyes wide, clearly dumbfounded.
She hadn't expected that answer. For the past month, the young lord had refused any healing spell she offered, all because of the promise she had made and failed to fulfill. Of course, she remembered that promise well.
But what could she do? She had only opened one [Zi Star] on her heart! It was definitely not enough to cure such illness. By all accounts, the illness should have taken him long ago if not because of her 'healing' the Young Lord secretly during midnight.
Still, there was no doubt she had done everything in her power to keep him alive. As his personal nanny or maid, Seven Hart's fate was inseparable from her own. If he were to die, she would be executed by the higher ups.
"I said go ahead," Seojin repeated. "Cast the spell. Did you not hear me?"
"Ah. My apologies, Young Lord. I shall do so at once."
Even as she raised her hands, Iria couldn't shake the feeling that something was different. Since this morning, the young lord she had served since infancy felt… unfamiliar.
Nonetheless, a soft green light bloomed from her palms as she channeled [Zi] toward him.
The sensation washed over Seojin gently. Warm and soothing. It reminded him of being held as a child by Yoon Hyerin. That first and last experience. It was that kind of comfort.
More importantly…
[Zi]
The term wasn't unfamiliar to him. In other novels, it might be called mana or aura. But in this world, [Zi] was life force itself.
"I've finished casting the spell, Young Lord," Iria said softly. "You should begin to feel warmer soon. It isn't much, but I hope it helps—"
She stopped again. Seojin was staring straight at her emerald eyes.
"Umm… Young Lord?" she asked hesitantly. "Is something wrong with my face?"
"Your eyes. They're really pret—"
Bonk!
That was finally the first step toward mending their relationship and something he would desperately need to survive in this world only for it to be interrupted by a clump of snow smashing directly into his face.
"Damn it!" he exclaimed, brushing snow from his nose. "Who the hell—"
"I-I'm really sorry, mister!" a child's voice cried out.
The girl hurried forward and bowed deeply, almost folding in half. Her eyes shimmered with panic, a tear trembling at the corner.
"I didn't mean to do it! I swear! I wasn't aiming at anyone. I was just throwing it over there! "Please don't be mad. I… I didn't mean to cause trouble."
Seojin stared at her, still blinking snow from his lashes.
"It's—"
"Come now, Mutya."
Iria stepped in before he could finish, crouching beside the girl and resting a gentle hand on her head.
"It's alright. No one's hurt."
She smiled reassuringly, the kind meant to calm frightened children, then glanced back at Seojin. That gaze was clearly asking him to let it go. Still, that 'no one's hurt' was, admittedly, a generous claim, given the redness on his nose.
"Winter's just begun," Iria continued. "Snowballs tend to fly before people think. But you still need to be careful, hm?"
She ruffled Mutya's hair.
"O–Okay, Miss Iria. I promise."
Mutya nodded quickly, wiping at her eyes. She bowed once more, clutching the front of her coat, then peeked up at Seojin.
"I'm really sorry, mister," Mutya said earnestly. "I'll be more careful next time!"