The next day.
At exactly 9 AM, Ferda went to find Silvan as usual.
Silvan was in bed just like yesterday, no different. Ferda didn't even glance at him and just lounged on the sofa, killing time.
Clatter—
"Good work today."
And when noon came around, he'd leave the room without hesitation.
Silvan showed no reaction. Ferda showed no interest.
An awkward atmosphere hung between them.
This mood that seemed like it would last forever suddenly broke on the third day they met.
***
Knock knock—
Thursday morning, 9 AM sharp.
Ferda clocked in at Silvan's room like always.
But today was weird. How to put it? He couldn't sense anyone inside.
Just then, a servant passing by in the hallway looked surprised.
"Oh! Sorry, I forgot to tell you..."
The servant rushed over and bowed his head.
With an awkward expression, he continued.
"Every Thursday there's a swordsmanship class."
Ah, right. He'd forgotten about that.
So today was that day.
"Sir Logwood said you could take Thursdays off."
For Ferda, Thursday was basically like the weekend.
That's why in the original story, Ferda would get permission to go out on Wednesday nights to drink. Or he'd laze around in his room all day or take walks.
But now that wouldn't do.
"Where did he go?"
"Huh?"
"I'm asking which training ground the young master went to."
Swordsmanship class was a chance to build a relationship with Silvan.
He couldn't miss an opportunity like this.
***
Count Arcdute's estate had a total of eight training grounds.
Even though Ferda was a devoted reader of "The Savior," remembering where Silvan took his classes was a stretch. So he had the servant lead the way to their destination.
Soon after, they arrived at Training Ground No. 2 on the south side.
"Well then, I'll excuse myself!"
Maybe he was worried about leaving his post?
The servant bowed quickly and hurried back to the northern mansion.
Left alone, Ferda narrowed his eyes.
'Found him.'
Actually, he didn't need to search hard.
All he had to do was find the most beautiful person among them.
Silvan was sitting in the most secluded spot in the training ground.
The shadiest place that stayed shaded all day long. There, like a frightened goose, Silvan sat completely still with his face buried between his knees.
Ferda walked over to Silvan with lazy steps.
Exactly two and a half steps.
He sat down with that much distance between them.
And then what did he do?
Nothing much.
He just stayed quiet, enjoying the coolness that the shade brought.
After about ten more minutes passed.
"...What the hell."
Silvan was the first to speak.
His pointed ears twitched as he peeked his head up.
Golden eyes like sunshine turned toward Ferda.
"Why are you here?"
At that question, Ferda immediately held out a pouch he'd brought from the mansion.
A leather pouch full of cool water. When Silvan frowned at the sudden action, Ferda tapped his own lips with his finger.
Realizing what that meant, Silvan let out a low sigh.
"Answer me."
"I came because it's hot."
Ferda answered quickly like he'd been waiting for it.
Silvan's delicate brow furrowed.
"What?"
"You came empty-handed."
"How did you..."
Silvan's eyes widened slightly.
Well, that's how it always was in the novel.
"You can drink it."
"..."
"I know you're thirsty. Go ahead and drink up."
Still, Silvan kept his mouth shut tight.
Such a stubborn guy.
"There's ice in it too, so it's really cold."
At that moment, the sound of water sloshing could be heard.
On a sweltering day, when you're really thirsty, and there's a water pouch right in front of you.
Not many people could resist that.
Silvan swallowed his dry saliva and reluctantly accepted the pouch, pretending he had no choice.
Gulp gulp—
As the cool water went down, Silvan's expression got much better.
"But..."
Silvan wiped the water from his lips.
He looked at Ferda again.
"Why are you suddenly being polite?"
"Because there are a lot of eyes watching here."
Ferda shrugged. He had that much sense at least.
Meanwhile, Silvan tilted his head, not quite understanding his answer.
That's when it happened.
"Hey, darkie."
A mocking tone.
Silvan's small shoulders flinched and trembled.
The person who approached him was a boy who looked about two years older than Silvan.
He looked down at Silvan with arrogant, shining brown eyes.
"After slacking off this whole time, now you're getting uppity?"
Cold contempt dripped from his voice.
It was because of this very boy.
The reason Silvan came to the training ground empty-handed.
Because if he did anything even slightly annoying, this kid would immediately pick a fight. So he just didn't do anything that could cause trouble.
Ferda raised his gaze slightly and stared intently at the boy.
'Casher Arcdute.'
The second son of Count Arcdute's family.
A boy with blonde hair and brown eyes.
He really hated Silvan.
"Hand it over. And get lost. I can't stand looking at you."
Casher snatched away the water pouch in one go and growled.
Silvan looked completely frustrated but couldn't bring himself to fight back. The difference in status was part of it, but the more fundamental reason was simple.
Silvan was weaker than Casher.
"What? Not gonna charge at me?"
Casher, who had downed all the water, smacked his lips like he was disappointed.
Then he grinned wickedly.
"Too bad. I was really gonna smash you to pieces this time."
Once before, Silvan had thrown a punch at Casher when he was picking a fight.
And he got beaten like a dog on a hot summer day.
Well, of course he would. Because this Casher guy was quite the broken character.
A genius with natural talent for swordsmanship.
He learned to handle mana at eight years old and entered Sword Expert level at eleven. Now at fifteen, he was on the verge of reaching high-level Sword Expert.
Hmm, if that still doesn't give you the picture, I can put it more simply.
Right now in the Count's household, there were less than ten people stronger than Casher.
"Well, even an idiot should start to know their place eventually."
Maybe he couldn't stand the grating comments anymore?
Silvan bared his teeth and clenched his fists tight. But that was all. He just trembled with his fists clenched, unable to work up the courage to charge.
Seeing this, Casher smirked.
Just as he was about to say something.
"Young Master Silvan."
There was a voice that got there first. It was Burke.
Burke had been approaching Silvan when his eyebrows twitched for a moment. He'd spotted Ferda beside Silvan. But he didn't say anything about it.
Burke turned his gaze back to Silvan.
"It's your turn, young master. Please come to the training ground."
At those words, Silvan's face darkened.
He bit his lip and suddenly looked toward Ferda.
But what could Ferda do about it? When he shook his head with an awkward expression, resignation immediately filled Silvan's eyes.
"Then let's begin the lesson."
Burke's curriculum was simple.
All he did was correct a series of actions from sword-swinging posture to thrusting and slashing.
Of course, this was just for Silvan.
Silvan had frighteningly no talent for swordsmanship.
"Swing again."
At those words, Silvan silently did as told.
It was clumsy but didn't look completely awkward. But apparently it wasn't good enough for Burke.
"Again."
Silvan bit his lip hard.
The practice wooden sword cut through the air. It had a bit more force than before.
"Again."
Burke mechanically kept saying "again."
While watching that boring scene.
Someone approached.
"You look much more impressive than I heard."
A gentle voice.
A man with light brown curly hair and glasses. Ferda immediately recognized who he was.
"...At the end of the path lined with knights. There stood a man with a slender build.
A man in his late teens with light brown curly hair and dark green eyes. The moment Ferda saw him, he knelt down. Because he realized who he was."
'Shane Arcdute.'
The eldest son of the Count's family and the legitimate heir.
Swordsmanship, magic, scholarship.
A genius who excelled in everything.
He spoke with a gentle smile.
"Nice to meet you. Ferda Inosid."
Even though he hadn't given his name yet, Shane knew who Ferda was.
And that wasn't all.
"Or should I call you Ferda Winteress?"
The family name from before the fall, 'Winteress.'
In the original novel, Ferda would have been shocked to hear this. He never would have expected to hear his old family name in a place like this.
But thinking about it, it wasn't really that surprising.
So Ferda politely bowed his head with a calm expression.
"Please, whatever is comfortable for you."
An attitude that showed no surprise at all.
Seeing this, interest sparked in Shane's eyes.
"You're surprisingly not shocked."
"I thought you would naturally know."
Ferda raised his head.
He looked directly into Shane's eyes and continued.
"You couldn't just carelessly let someone of unknown background into the castle."
This was about hiring a teacher for the Count's third young master.
Of course they would have checked all background information beforehand.
"Hmm, I suppose you could think that way."
Shane answered as if it made sense.
Then he shook his head.
"But that's not it. I'm the only one who knows about 'Winteress.'"
This line wasn't in the original story.
But there was no reason to panic.
Just from that line, he could tell what Shane wanted.
"Is there something you'd like me to do?"
At that answer, Shane's eyes widened. He looked impressed.