(Arin's Perspective)
The carriage came to a smooth halt, yet my heart slammed into my ribs with a violent stop.
I peered out the window. Before me stood a structure that resembled a national museum more than a temporary residence. White marble pillars soared high, supporting a domed roof that gleamed as if plated in solid gold. The front garden alone was wider than the entire village where I grew up.
"This... is the Capital Mansion?" I asked, my voice strangled. I pressed my face against the glass until my nose flattened. "Are you sure we aren't at the Royal Palace by mistake?"
Rose, sitting opposite me while checking her red hair in a compact mirror, laughed mockingly.
"Don't be such a country bumpkin, Arin. This is just a townhouse. Their main estate in the Rhyms territory is five times larger. If you faint just looking at the fence, you won't survive the front door."
I swallowed hard. The small vial of mold extract in my jacket pocket felt heavy, but not nearly as heavy as my skyrocketing blood pressure.
The carriage door was opened by a servant in a crisp uniform. Rose stepped down gracefully, the hem of her blood-red gown sweeping the marble pavement. The guards at the gate, clad in full plate armor, immediately slammed the butts of their halberds onto the ground.
Clang!
"Welcome, Lady Carlos!" they shouted in unison, their voices booming with respect.
Then, it was my turn to descend.
The guards did not slam their halberds. Instead, their eyes narrowed. Their hands drifted subtly toward their sword hilts. Their gazes swept over my rented suit which was slightly too loose at the shoulders.
Their eyes clearly said: Who is this vagrant in a suit? Is he Lady Carlos's luggage carrier?
I tried to smile politely, but my lips felt as if they had been glued shut. "Hello, Sirs. I am... a guest. I carry no weapons, only a handkerchief."
One guard snorted softly, then stared straight ahead, ignoring my existence completely.
"Just walk, Partner. Ignore them," Rose whispered, nudging my arm and dragging me forward. "Straighten your back. You are the savior of their master's daughter. Act like a hero, not a thief stealing laundry."
"It is hard when they look at me as if I am about to steal the door handle," I hissed back.
We stepped into the main lobby. A giant crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, reflecting light onto a floor so clean I could see my own pale, terrified reflection in it.
A beautiful middle-aged woman walked down the curved grand staircase. She wore an elegant dark blue gown. Her face was very similar to Elena's, only more mature, radiating a warm yet authoritative maternal aura.
Duchess Vanna Rhyms. Elena's mother.
"Welcome, Rose," she greeted warmly, then her golden eyes shifted to me.
Instantly, my brain replayed Page 42: Etiquette for Greeting High Nobility from the 1250 edition book I had frantically read in the library last night.
Rule 1: Bow 45 degrees. Hold for two seconds. Do not make direct eye contact until spoken to.
I immediately bowed with stiff, jerky movements like a robot running low on oil.
"Good evening, Most Honorable Duchess Vanna Rhyms. It is an infinite honor for this lowly servant to be permitted to set his dirty foot upon the sacred floor of your residence," I recited in one breath, exactly as the ancient text dictated.
Silence.
Rose slapped her forehead with a loud smack. "Arin, that is a greeting for a Queen in the Middle Ages. You sound like a bad actor in a Shakespeare play."
Vanna Rhyms blinked in surprise, then laughed softly. Her laughter was crisp and not at all condescending.
"My goodness, so polite. Rise, Child. No need to be that formal," Vanna said, smiling with amusement. "So you are Arin? Elena hasn't stopped talking about you. 'Arin did this', 'Arin did that', 'Arin is amazing'. Good heavens, my ears are burning."
My face heated up. "Forgive me, Duchess. I was only trying not to offend anyone. I learned from a book."
"What book? 'How to Be a Serf in the 1200s'?" teased Rose.
"You are safe with me, Arin," Vanna patted my shoulder gently, ignoring Rose. "Come in, my husband is waiting. He is... very enthusiastic to meet the young man who 'touched his daughter's chest' for medical treatment."
My foot caught on the carpet. "T-Touched what?!"
"Relax, Arin. It was a joke," Vanna winked. "At least to me, it is a joke. To my husband... well, just pray."
That was not comforting at all!
Vanna led us to the dining hall. Double doors, four meters high, were swung open by two servants.
The sight inside made my knees weak.
The dining table was incredibly long. At the farthest end sat a middle-aged man with silver hair and a sharp gaze.
Duke Edwin Rhyms.
He was cutting a steak on his plate, but the way he held the knife suggested he was practicing dissecting an enemy's neck. When I entered, the knife stopped moving. His sharp eyes locked onto me.
On the other side of the table sat Elena.
Elena wore an ice-blue silk dress that exposed her white shoulders. She looked stunning, shimmering under the light of magic artifacts. Far different from the bandaged patient in the hospital.
Seeing me enter, Elena's face lit up instantly. She grinned widely, waving her small hand with an enthusiasm that was entirely un-aristocratic.
"Arin! You came!" she exclaimed cheerfully. If her father weren't there, she would have run and hugged me.
"Ahem!"
A loud throat-clearing from the end of the table stopped everything. Duke Edwin glared at his daughter, then shifted his gaze to me as if I were a pest that needed exterminating.
"Sit," he ordered briefly.
I walked stiffly to the prepared chair, directly opposite Elena and beside Rose. Vanna sat at the other end of the table. The distance between the Duke and me was significant, yet his killing aura felt suffocatingly close.
Servants began serving the appetizers.
"So," the Duke's voice broke the silence as he stared at me intensely. "You are Arin."
"C-Correct, Your Grace," I answered nervously.
"The weather is quite clear today," the Duke said suddenly. A very normal topic, but his tone sounded like he was reading a death sentence. "How was your journey here? Were there any... disturbances?"
"N-None, Your Grace. Smooth. The horses were... very fast," I stammered.
"Good," the Duke nodded slowly, then his gaze sharpened. "I heard you cured Elena with a method of... 'direct touch' on the chest area."
I choked on my own saliva. Rose stifled a laugh beside me.
"That... sternum, Your Grace! The breastbone!" I corrected in panic. "I had to stimulate the main mana circuit located beneath the sternum. It was a purely medical procedure! I even wore gloves!"
"Father!" protested Elena, her face flushing red. "Don't speak vulgarly at the dinner table! Arin saved me! Without him, I would have frozen to death!"
"I know, Elena. I am just verifying," the Duke grunted, cutting his meat roughly.
Crack.
A small crack appeared on his porcelain plate. "These days, many young men claim to be doctors when they just want to grope."
"Arin isn't like that!" defended Elena fiercely. "He even saw me unconscious with my uniform torn at the stomach and he immediately covered me! He is a gentleman!"
Silence.
The Duke's eyes bulged. The silver fork in his hand bent.
"Uniform? Torn?" The Duke stared at me with a demonic aura. "You saw it?"
"NO! I MEAN YES, BUT I DIDN'T SEE ANYTHING!" I shouted in frustration. "I only applied bandages to treat the wound!"
"Now, now," Vanna intervened with an amused smile. "Honey, don't scare our guest. Arin saved our daughter in the Hypothermia Incident."
The Duke exhaled a long breath, trying to calm himself. He put down his bent fork and picked up a new one.
"Very well. Thank you, Boy," the Duke said stiffly. "I heard you were also involved in a magic duel yesterday? Between my daughter and a girl from the... what was it? Blacksmith family?"
"Blacksmith Family, Your Grace. Erika," I answered. I suspected he had investigated Erika's background, which meant he had definitely investigated mine.
"Ah, yes. A duel fighting over 'something', I heard?" The Duke glanced at Elena.
Elena immediately pretended to be busy cutting a carrot.
"Fighting over Arin, Uncle," Rose interjected casually while spooning her soup. "They dueled to determine who gets to go on a date with Arin."
CRASH!
This time, the crystal goblet in the Duke's hand shattered into pieces. Red wine spilled onto the white tablecloth, spreading like fresh blood.
A servant swiftly cleaned it up in seconds, as if accustomed to seeing the Duke destroy property when emotional.
"My daughter... a Rhyms... fighting over a man?" The Duke stared at Elena in disbelief. "Elena, you are the one to be chased, not the chaser! Where is your pride?"
"Arin is worth fighting for, Father!" answered Elena without hesitation, staring back at her father defiantly. "He is smart, he is kind, and he is the only person who understands my condition! Besides, his cooking is delicious!"
"His cooking?" The Duke looked at me, confused. "You are a chef?"
"No, Your Grace. I just... like cooking mushrooms," I answered weakly.
Vanna chuckled. "Give it up, Edwin. Admit it, you are losing popularity. Your daughter is growing up."
The Duke looked devastated. He looked at me again, this time not with anger, but with a sharp, assessing gaze. Like a father measuring if the boy in front of him was strong enough to protect his precious jewel.
"Fine," muttered the Duke. "Eat. This Wyvern steak is the best import."
Everyone looked at me. Another awkward moment.
Then, Elena stabbed a piece of meat with her own fork and extended it toward my mouth.
"Aaa..." said Elena with a sweet smile, as if the world belonged only to the two of us.
My body froze. Cold sweat poured down. I immediately glanced at the end of the table.
Duke Edwin was snapping his steak knife in half with his bare hands. His face was smiling, but his eyes were dead.
"E-Elena... I can eat by myself..." I whispered in horror.
"It's okay," insisted Elena, bringing the fork closer to my lips.
"STOP IT!" shouted Duke Edwin, unable to endure it any longer. "Elena! Eat your own food! And you, Boy! Stop seducing my daughter with that innocent face!"
"I AM NOT DOING ANYTHING!" I shouted back in frustration.
Vanna and Rose burst into laughter watching the chaos. The dinner that was supposed to be elegant had turned into a loud family comedy.
And strangely, amidst my fear of this overprotective Duke, I felt a little warmth. It felt like... a normal family. Well, a normal family where the father could bend steel with his bare hands.
However... why was the Duke treating me 'somewhat' nicely? Okay, he wasn't friendly, but considering I was the root cause of his financial loss, I expected a cruel audit regarding the mine blockade. Rose said the Duke was in a bad mood.
The clinking of silver forks against porcelain sounded like death knells in my ears.
One hour passed. One hour full of empty small talk.
"This highland Wagyu beef is very tender, isn't it?" Duke Edwin Rhyms asked while wiping the corner of his lips with a silk napkin. His smile was polite, but his golden eyes, identical to Elena's, emitted no warmth.
"Very... exquisite, Your Grace," I replied stiffly. My hand holding the knife was slightly sweaty. I tried desperately to recall Chapter 4 of the Noble Etiquette book: 'Do not stare at the Duke for more than three seconds, but do not bow like a slave.'
"Arin cuts his meat with extraordinary surgical precision, Father," praised Elena suddenly, her eyes sparkling as she looked at me. "Look, the pieces are perfectly symmetrical!"
Rose, sitting across from me, hid a laugh behind her wine glass. "Of course, Elena. He is used to dissecting frogs, not steaks. Maybe he is looking for the cow's artery."
Duchess Vanna laughed softly. "Oh, you children. Let Arin enjoy his meal. He must be tired after... the incident in the arena yesterday."
I smiled awkwardly, nodding at Vanna. "Thank you, Duchess."
But behind my smile, my heart was racing.
Why?
Why hadn't he brought it up yet?
Where was the shouting about the mine losses? Where were the threats about the Benzzi Family blockade?
Karim said the Duke lost millions of gold coins this morning. But the man at the end of the table ate calmly as if the world were fine.
This uncertainty tortured me worse than physical blows. It was like waiting for the guillotine to fall, but the executioner invited you for tea first.
I glanced at Duke Edwin again. This time, he caught my gaze.
For a split second, his mask cracked. His gaze shifted into that of a predator weighing its prey. Cold and calculating.
Then, as fast as lightning, the smile returned.
"The meal is finished," said Duke Edwin as he placed his napkin on the table. The sound of crystal glasses clinking stopped all conversation.
He looked at Elena and Rose in turn.
"Elena, Rose. Why don't you accompany your Mother for tea in the back garden? The Moonlight flowers are blooming tonight."
Elena's smile faded. "But Father... I still want to talk to Arin. We haven't discussed my new magic project."
"Later, Sweetheart," cut in Edwin smoothly, but his tone brooked no refusal. "I wish to give a personal 'gift' to Arin in my office. A token of gratitude for saving my beloved daughter."
The word 'gift' was spoken with an emphasis that made the hair on my neck stand up.
Rose, sensitive to atmospheric changes, immediately put down her glass. She gave me a fleeting glance; a warning look; then stood up.
"Come on, Elena," invited Rose, pulling her friend's arm gently. "Let the men talk business. Besides, I need herbal tea to neutralize the fat from this meat."
Elena pouted, looking at me reluctantly. "Alright. Arin, don't go home before saying goodbye to me, okay?"
"Certainly, Lady Elena," I replied. My voice sounded hoarse.
Vanna smiled at me, her gaze slightly pitying, as if she knew what was about to happen. She guided the two girls out of the dining room.
The double mahogany doors closed with a soft click.
Silence seized the room.
Now it was just me, Duke Edwin, and the long table separating us.
The room's atmosphere shifted instantly. The temperature felt like it dropped ten degrees. The light of the magic lamps seemed to dim, suppressed by the aura of dominance now radiating freely from the man before me.
Duke Edwin was no longer smiling. He picked up his wine glass, swirling it slowly, staring at the dark red liquid inside.
"You know, Boy..."
His voice was low, echoing in the vast room.
"I hate small talk. Dinner was just a formality so Elena wouldn't cry."
He lifted his face. That gaze was no longer the gaze of a father. It was the gaze of a ruler looking at an insect disturbing his balance sheet.
"Follow me to my office," he ordered as he stood up.
I swallowed bitter saliva. My hand squeezed my jacket pocket, ensuring the small glass vial was still there.
This was it. The curtain on the stage play had fallen.
Now... it was time to trade with the devil.