The carriage slowed as we entered the town's main square.
We came to a complete stop, and a footman opened the door.
Father stepped out first.
Victor followed with similar bearing, then Cedric trying to mimic them both.
I climbed out last, squinting against the afternoon sun.
The festival spread before us in organized chaos.
The town square had been transformed. Wooden stalls lined the perimeter, their awnings striped in autumn colors.
Merchants called out their wares: roasted chestnuts, spiced cider, autumn harvest vegetables piled high, hand-crafted goods, decorative garlands made of wheat and dried flowers.
In the center of the square, a large wooden platform had been erected for performances. Musicians tuned their instruments, lutes, flutes, a fiddle, a hand drum. A small crowd had already gathered, watching a juggler toss painted wooden balls in elaborate patterns.
Lanterns hung from posts and building facades, ready to be lit when evening came. The cobblestone streets had been swept clean, and someone had scattered fresh hay to give the space a rustic, festive feel.
And everywhere were people.
Common folk in their simple but clean clothes, women in long skirts and embroidered blouses, men in tunics and leather vests. Children darted between stalls, laughing and chasing each other.
Merchants in slightly finer wear haggled with customers. Town guards in leather armor stood at intervals, keeping order without being oppressive.
And scattered throughout, like peacocks among pigeons, were the nobles.
Easy to spot by their fine fabrics and formal bearing. Jewelry catching the sunlight. Small entourages of servants following at respectful distances.
Father led our family toward a section of the square where other noble families had gathered.
Several heads turned as we approached.
A middle-aged lord with a impressive mustache nodded respectfully to Father. "Aldric. Good to see you. Fine harvest this year, wasn't it?"
"Indeed, Markhus. Very favorable." Father's voice was smooth, diplomatic. "How are your northern holdings?"
They fell into easy conversation, the kind of meaningless small talk that nobles used to fill space while assessing each other's status and looking for opportunities.
Victor was immediately approached by a cluster of young nobles his age, all of them dressed in martial fashion with swords at their hips. They clapped him on the shoulder, talking about academy rankings and combat techniques.
Even Cedric found company of a few other noble children near his age gravitating together, complaining about their parents making them attend boring festivals.
I stood slightly apart from Father, positioned close enough to technically be part of the family group but not quite included in it.
The standard arrangement.
A servant passed by with a tray of wine glasses. I took one, more for something to hold than any desire to drink.
The festival continued around me, music swelling as the musicians started a lively folk tune.
I took a sip of wine, it is of decent quality, probably provided by one of the wealthier merchant families trying to curry favor with the nobles and resigned myself to a long, tedious afternoon.
Well, at least the weather is nice.
I took another sip of wine and let my gaze drift across the festival crowd.
Victor had separated from his martial academy friends and was now surrounded by a group of young noble ladies in colorful gowns, all of them smiling and laughing at whatever charming bullshit he was saying.
Of course.
Victor had always been good at that.
The confident heir, the skilled warrior, the perfect noble son. Girls practically threw themselves at him.
Not that I cared.
Romance was dead last on my priority list, somewhere below "learn interpretive dance" and "develop a healthy relationship with my homicidal family."
I had more important things to worry about. Like surviving. Like figuring out what the hell I was supposed to do with this second chance at life.
Like not dying of boredom at this festival.
I drained the rest of my wine and set the glass on a nearby side table, then headed toward the refreshment area.
Might as well get something to eat while I was standing here pretending to be part of civilized society.
I reached for one of the wine carafes to refill my glass.
Then someone slammed into my shoulder from behind.
Hard.
My hand jerked, wine sloshing over the rim of my glass and splashing across my sleeve.
"Watch where you're going," a voice sneered.
I turned to find a noble boy about my glaring at me with obvious contempt.
He was dressed in expensive clothes that screamed "my father has money and I want everyone to know it": a deep green doublet with gold threading, multiple rings on his fingers, a decorative sword at his hip that had probably never seen actual combat.
His face was flushed red, and he reeked of wine.
Already drunk, or well on his way there.
"Sorry," I said automatically, keeping my voice neutral. "Didn't see you."
Not worth the confrontation. Just apologize and move on.
But the boy stepped closer, invading my personal space. "Sorry? You ruined my approach!" He gestured toward a noble lady standing a few feet away, pretty, maybe eighteen, dressed in pale blue silk. She was watching our interaction with mild interest.
Ah. Drunk idiot trying to impress a girl. Classic.
"My apologies," I repeated, already turning away. "I'll be more careful."
"Damn right you will." The boy's hand shot out and shoved my shoulder.
Not hard enough to make me fall, but enough to make me stumble back a step.
My jaw clenched.
Several nearby nobles turned to watch, curious about the commotion.
The drunk idiot puffed up, clearly enjoying the attention.
He sneered at me one more time, then turned and swaggered back toward the noble lady he'd been talking to, already launching into some story about "putting an inferior noble in his place."
I clicked my tongue in irritation.
Great. Just great. Can't even get wine without some drunk asshole making it a problem.
I'd spent eighteen months being pushed around, beaten down, reminded constantly that I was worthless. And my patience for that shit was running extremely thin.
I glanced around. No one was paying attention to me anymore, their focus had shifted to other conversations, other distractions.
Debug Vision.
I focused on the drunk noble, letting the system analyze him.
[Entity Analysis - Marcus Valen]
entity_type: "human_noble"
age: 16
condition: "intoxicated"
balance: 34/100 (reduced due to alcohol)
awareness: 28/100 (reduced due to alcohol)
Then I shifted my focus to the ground beneath his feet, the cobblestones worn smooth from years of traffic.
[Object Analysis - Cobblestone Path]
surface_friction: 0.67
stability: HIGH
I concentrated on the specific cobblestone Marcus was about to step on, imagining the friction coefficient dropping. Just a small change. Nothing dramatic.
[Minor String Edit: Initiated]
[Target: Cobblestone surface friction]
[Change: 0.67 → 0.15]
[Edit Successful]
My MP dropped, but no headache. No nosebleed. Just a slight drain on my mana reserves.
Marcus took another step toward the noble lady, wine glass raised as he continued his boastful story—
And his foot hit the edited cobblestone.
His leg shot out from under him like he'd stepped on ice.
"Wha—!"
His arms windmilled, wine glass flying from his hand in a perfect arc.
Splash!
The wine hit the noble lady square in the chest, deep red liquid soaking into her expensive pale blue dress.
She shrieked in shock and outrage.
Marcus landed hard on his ass, the impact knocking the wind out of him.
The surrounding nobles erupted into laughter and shocked gasps.
"Oh my gods—"
"Did you see—"
"Lady Hena's dress!"
"What an idiot!"
I took a casual sip from my refilled wine glass, watching the chaos unfold with complete neutrality.
Oops.
Marcus scrambled to his feet, his face burning red, partly from embarrassment, partly from the alcohol, partly from rage.
"I-Lady Hena, I'm so sorry, I don't know what—"
"Get away from me!" Hena was dabbing frantically at her ruined dress with a handkerchief, her expression furious. "You drunken fool! This dress cost more than your horse!"
"It was an accident! The ground—"
"The ground?" She looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "You're blaming the ground for your clumsiness?"
More laughter erupted from the gathered nobles.
[MP: 50/65]
Karma's a bitch, Marcus. Should've watched where you were going.
I allowed myself a tiny, satisfied smile as I began to sip rest of my vine.
Marcus looked around desperately, his eyes landing on me standing at the refreshment table.
And then his expression shifted, from desperate to accusatory.
Oh no.
"You!" He pointed at me, his voice loud enough to carry across the gathered nobles. "You did this!"
I blinked, my wine glass pausing halfway to my lips.
"What the hell?" I said, trying to sound appropriately disbelieving. "I'm standing over here. How exactly did I—"
"You shoved me earlier!" Marcus stormed toward me, his face still burning red. "That's why I was off-balance! You made me stumble and ruin Lady Hena's dress!"
The logic was so absurd I almost laughed.
"You bumped into me," I said flatly. "Then you shoved me. And now you're blaming me for your own drunken clumsiness? That's... creative."
Marcus's face went even redder. "Don't mock me! You think you're better than me? You're from a pathetic Baron family with no money and no influence!"
Wow. He's really committed to this delusion.
"I think that you're drunk, embarrassed, and looking for someone to blame besides yourself. Unfortunately for you, physics doesn't care about your feelings."
More laughter from the crowd. A few nobles were openly grinning now, enjoying the show.
Marcus's hands clenched into fists. "You little—"
He took a step toward me, and two of his friends materialized from the crowd, boys about his age, dressed similarly in expensive clothes, faces flushed from drinking.
The backup squad. Of course. Classic.
"This bastard thinks he's clever," Marcus spat to his friends. "Thinks he can insult me and get away with it."
One of the friends, a stocky boy with a square jaw, nodded eagerly. "Want us to teach him a lesson?"
I set my wine glass down on the refreshment table carefully.
Really? We're doing this? At a public festival?
The nobles watching had formed a loose circle now, conversations dying as they sensed drama. Some looked uncomfortable, public brawls were unseemly. Others looked intrigued, eager for entertainment.
"I'd recommend thinking this through," I said calmly, meeting Marcus's eyes. "You're already embarrassed. Adding 'started a fight at the Harvest Festival' to today's list of poor decisions probably won't help."
"Shut up!" Marcus lunged forward and shoved me hard in the chest.
I stumbled backward, my boots scraping against cobblestone.
His two friends moved in from the sides, clearly intending to corner me.
The stocky one grabbed my shoulder while the other pushed from the opposite side.
I went down, hitting the cobblestones hard. Pain shot through my palms where I caught myself, my jacket twisting awkwardly.
Great. Just great. Assaulted at a public festival and no one's doing anything to—!
Marcus loomed over me, raising his foot like he was about to kick.
No, you don't.
I was already focusing on another cobblestone, preparing to edit, when—
"What's going on here?"
A voice cut through the commotion like a blade.
Everyone froze.
I looked up to see Victor pushing through the circle of onlookers, his expression stern and authoritative.
Behind him, the group of noble ladies who'd been fawning over him followed, all of them watching with wide eyes.
Marcus's foot lowered slowly. His friends took a step back.
Victor had that effect on people. He was built like a warrior, trained like one, carried himself with the confidence of someone who'd never lost a fight.
Yeah. People didn't mess with Victor.
He surveyed the scene, me on the ground, Marcus and his friends standing over me, the circle of watching nobles, and his eyes narrowed.
"Jin?"
There was something in his voice I couldn't quite identify. Not concern, exactly. More like... confusion? Surprise that I was involved in whatever this was?
One of the noble ladies, a pretty girl with auburn hair and a yellow dress, stepped forward slightly, looking between us. "Is he your brother?"
Victor glanced at her, then at me, then back at her.
For a moment, I thought he might deny it. Might take the easy route and pretend we weren't related, save himself the embarrassment of being associated with the family disappointment.
But he nodded. "Yes."
Marcus and his friends' faces went pale.
All of them took immediate steps backward, suddenly very interested in looking anywhere except at Victor.
The stocky friend actually raised his hands in a placating gesture. "We-we didn't know he was—"
"Leave," Victor said flatly. "Now."
They scrambled away without another word, disappearing into the crowd fast.
Marcus lingered for just a second longer, shooting me one last venomous glare, before fleeing after his friends.
The noble ladies who'd followed Victor immediately swarmed forward.
"Are you alright?"
"Those boys are absolute brutes!"
I'd already pushed myself to my feet, brushing dirt from my jacket, when one of them, the girl in the yellow dress, reached out to help dust off my shoulders.
"I'm fine," I said automatically.
"Your jacket is all twisted," another girl said, already adjusting the fabric. She had dark hair pinned up with decorative combs and an energetic smile. "There. Much better."
A third girl, with elegant features and a confident bearing looked me up and down appraisingly. "You handled that well. Most people would've lost their temper."
"Didn't seem worth the energy," I muttered.
The girl in yellow laughed. "Smart. No wonder those idiots were jealous."
Then she reached up and ruffled my hair like I was a puppy or a child.
I froze, completely baffled by the gesture.
"You're adorable," she said cheerfully. "Even cuter than your brother, honestly."
What?
"Much better aesthetic too!"
I stared at them, my brain struggling to process this turn of events.
Five minutes ago I was being shoved to the ground by drunk nobles. Now I had multiple girls complimenting my appearance and comparing me favorably to Victor?
What timeline did I stumble into?
Victor looked equally confused, his authoritative expression faltering slightly as the girls' attention shifted from him to me.
The girl in yellow beamed at me. "I'm Seraphina, by the way. This is Isabelle," she gestured to the dark-haired girl, "And that's Cordelia." She indicated the older, elegant one.
Seraphina leaned in conspiratorially. "You should come join our group. We were just about to watch the musicians. Much better company than those drunken idiots."
Before I could formulate a response, she'd already linked her arm through mine and started pulling me away from the refreshment table.
Isabelle took my other arm with equal enthusiasm.
"Wait—!" I managed.
"Don't worry, we'll take good care of you!" Seraphina said cheerfully.
I glanced back at Victor, who looked utterly bewildered by this development.
One of the remaining girls near him, a blonde in a green dress, patted his arm sympathetically. "Your brother is quite charming, Lord Victor. You must be very protective of him."
Victor's mouth opened, then closed.
Yeah. He has no idea how to respond to that either.
I let myself be dragged away by Seraphina and Isabelle, too confused and exhausted to resist.
What the hell just happened?
[Social Engineering - Passive Effect Activated]
[Charisma-based interactions enhanced]
[Likability increased in social situations]
The notification blinked in my peripheral vision.
Oh.
Right.
The skill I'd gotten from completing the poison quest.
Apparently it worked better than I'd realized.
Great.
Just what I needed, attention from noble girls who thought I was "intriguing."
Because my life wasn't complicated enough already.
Seraphina chattered away about the musicians as we walked, still holding my arm like we were old friends.
And I just... went with it.
Because what else was I supposed to do?
This festival was getting weirder by the minute.