Julian had finally come to know what the survival points were used for. There was a 'system shop' where he could use the points to get essentials that could save his life.
Among those essentials was something called 'Winterizing Balm'. It was a cream that helped prevent frostbite and keep limbs warm even in the harsh weather of the North. It lasted for 12 hours.
This was one of the things Julian planned to use regularly and it cost only 6 survival points.
He had saved a lot of survival points, so he was going to invest most of them in the 'winterizing balm' and save the rest for real emergencies.
The journey to the North was a grueling test of endurance for the guards, but for Julian, every mile away from the capital felt like a breath of fresh air.
The carriage rumbled through dense, forests where the only sounds were the crunch of wheels on rocks and branches and the occasional, bone-chilling howl from a far distance.
The guards his father had sent were seasoned men, but even they were caught off guard when Julian suddenly tapped on the carriage window, his voice calm but urgent.
"Prepare the oil lamps and draw your steel," Julian had commanded, his eyes fixed on a specific thicket of dark pines. "We have company coming from the east. Twelve of them."
The guards had laughed initially, looking at the quiet, noble as if he'd finally lost his mind to the cold. But when a chorus of guttural snarls erupted from the very spot he'd pointed out, and a pack of shadow-wolves lunged from the brush, their mockery turned to sheer terror.
By the time the last wolf was driven off, the guards wouldn't even look Julian in the eye. To them, he was no longer a useless spare.
But of course, some guessed it was just luck following him.
Julian sighed, not caring if they believed it or not. The next time, they could ignore, but they would be the ones in trouble since he was safe in the carriage.
As the days bled into one another, the greenery vanished entirely. The world became a monochromatic landscape of white and grey. The temperature plummeted until Julian's breath misted heavily in the air, and the wind began to howl with a ferocity that shook the carriage frame.
He used the first balm then and felt the warmth spread over his body like he was walking in a field during spring.
Finally, through the swirling veil of a localized blizzard, the jagged silhouette of the Alaric Manor appeared. It was a fortress of black stone and ice, standing solitary against the edge of the world.
The carriage finally came to a stop in front of the manor. The surroundings had dried trees and snow leaves. It looked more like a haunted house with no life in it, but there were certainly people living there.
Julian stood alone in the swirling snow, gazing at the carriage leaving with the guards.
They would probably send word to his father that he had arrived safely on his behalf.
Then, he turned back to the manor.
The courtyard had a heavy silence and the massive oak doors remained shut. There was no one there to welcome him, not even a low-ranking butler to offer a hand with his luggage.
"Right," Julian muttered, his breath hitching in the sub-zero air. "A warm Northern welcome."
He looked at the empty balcony and the dark, unlit windows of the manor. Then, the System window hovered in his vision, stagnant and unmoving on that very window he was looking at.
> [Target: Young Lord Lucius — Affection: 0%]
If he could see the affection level when he wasn't seeing anyone, did that mean the young Lord was standing by the window?
And a 0% affection?
It's not like he had his hopes high, and at least it didn't have a negative so this was a good start. A fresh slate.
This place was like a literal dead zone. There were no giggling maids loitering around, no curious servants peeking through curtains.
The Alaric estate felt less like a home and more like a tomb, with mummies with no emotions doing all the work.
Eventually, the side door groaned open, and an elderly man with a face like crumpled parchment stepped out, with a monocle over his right eye. He didn't introduce himself. He didn't apologize for the lack of a greeting party. He simply gestured for Julian to follow.
"Your quarters are in the West Wing," the old man rasped, his voice sounding like dry leaves skittering on stone. "The Young Lord does not wish to be disturbed today. The Duke is... occupied."
Julian nodded and lugged his own suitcase across the threshold. As he walked down the dimly lit corridors, he passed a tall, arched doorway leading to a courtyard.
Through the frost-covered glass, he saw the young boy, Lucius.
The seven-year-old was said to be a miniature version of his father, and... Cursed. But Julian could not see exactly how he was cursed.
To him, he was just a sad child, standing perfectly still, staring at a frozen fountain with an expression so vacant it was haunting.
That was the child who would be under his care from now on.
Julian paused, his teacher's heart twitching. He had seen 'difficult' students before, but this was different. This was a child who had simply... turned off everything.
'0% affection,' Julian thought, watching the boy. He doesn't hate me. 'He doesn't even know me, so he has no reason to hold affection towards me. To him, I might just be another one of those teachers who come in here to form connections with his father.'
"This way," the old man prodded and
Julian followed.
'Will I get to see the Duke?' he wondered, but held no particular interest.
His goal... It was simply to survive.