The first thing I did after the system screen blinked out of existence was pat myself down. My pockets, my jacket, the ridiculous silk sash around my waist. Nothing. A few lint balls and a copper coin so tarnished it looked like a piece of gravel.
I was sitting on the edge of a bed big enough to park a car in, feeling the velvet comforter under my hands. It was fancy. The whole room was fancy. But the copper coin in my palm was the realest thing in the world. It represented my total net worth in this new life.
*Fifty gold,* I thought, the number glowing in my memory like a neon sign of doom. *I have one copper. I need fifty thousand of these just to avoid making the Ice Duke hate me more than he already does. This isn't a villain's origin story. This is a financial cautionary tale.*
A sharp, discreet knock at the door made me jump.
"Young Master?" A voice called, young and clear. "Are you awake?"
*Shit. The servant.* I had no idea how to act. The original Damien was probably a dick. I should probably be a dick.
"What?" I snapped, trying to make my voice sound arrogant and annoyed. It came out more like I'd swallowed something wrong.
The door opened and a young man stepped in. He couldn't have been more than twenty, with sharp eyes and a face that looked like it was permanently tired of my shit. This had to be Eli.
He carried a pitcher of water and a clean shirt, moving with an economy of motion that spoke of long practice. He didn't make eye contact at first, just went about his business, but I could feel him watching me out of the corner of his eye.
"I've brought fresh water," he said, his voice flat. "And a tonic. For your throat."
I took the glass he offered, my mind racing. "Right. The throat. Good thinking."
Eli paused, his hand hovering over the dirty shirt from last night. "Are you feeling well, Young Master? You seem... calmer this morning."
*He noticed. Of course he noticed. The kid's got eyes.*
"Just resting my voice for the next performance," I said, waving a dismissive hand. It felt clumsy. "Now, about my assets. We need to sell something. I need cash."
Eli's expression didn't change, but a flicker of something—pity? amusement?—crossed his eyes. "Assets."
"Yes, assets. Things of value. Let's start with that silver hairbrush on the dresser." I pointed. It looked expensive.
Eli walked over and picked it up. "The real one was pawned last winter. To settle your losses at the tables. That one's plated."
My heart sank a little. "Okay. Fine. What about the coat I wore yesterday? The one with the fur collar? That looked pricey."
"The fur is rabbit, not ermine," Eli said, his voice dry as dust. "And it was used as collateral for a loan from the wine merchant. It's gone."
*Of course it was.* My eyes darted around the room, looking for anything else. "The decorative sword. On the wall. That's got to be worth something."
Eli didn't even move. "That belongs to Baron Kessler now. He hasn't bothered sending someone to collect it."
The list went on like that. Every valuable thing I could think of already had a story attached to it pawned, pledged, or seized.. The fancy clothes? Tailor hadn't been paid in six months. The books on the shelf? Bought on credit. The food in the pantry? A loan secured against next season's wheat harvest from the family's one small plot of land.
It wasn't a grand tragedy. It was a slow, humiliating strangulation by a thousand tiny cuts.
"Are the other servants paid?" I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it.
Eli finally stopped what he was doing and looked directly at me. His gaze was sharp and unreadable. "Not for two months. They stay because their families have served yours for generations. Or because they have nowhere else to go."
A pang of actual guilt hit me. I wasn't Damien, but I was in his shoes, and his mess was now my mess.
"Show me the records," I said, my voice losing its fake arrogance. "All of it. The debts, the assets, the IOUs. I want to see the numbers."
That's when the suspicion really bloomed on Eli's face. He didn't move for a solid ten seconds. "Since when do you care about debt records, Young Master?"
"Since I nearly got my tongue cut out last night," I shot back, letting a little of my own real frustration leak into my tone. "It turns out a brush with death makes you re-evaluate your budget. Now, the records."
He stared at me for another moment, then gave a slow, deliberate nod. He walked over to a small, locked desk in the corner, pulled out a key, and retrieved a heavy leather-bound ledger. He dropped it on the table with a thud that sounded like a coffin lid.
I spent the next hour poring over it. It was worse than I thought. Page after page of red ink. Baron Kessler's name was scrawled everywhere, his loans taken out for cards and dice. The tailor, the wine merchant, the jeweler... a rogues' gallery of people Damien had screwed over. Tucked between the pages, like shameful bookmarks, were IOU slips he'd written to friends who were no longer friends. I even found a bundle of dried, pressed flowers with a faded love letter tied to them, signed by someone named 'Annette.' From what I remembered in the book's plot Annette was a lady who had publicly rejected Damien last season.
*Pathetic,* I thought, but without any malice. Just a kind of tired, sad fact.
I slammed the ledger shut. There was nothing to sell. Nothing to leverage. I was completely, utterly screwed.
I leaned back in the chair, rubbing my eyes. The system quest felt like a physical weight on my chest. Fifty gold. It might as well be a million.
Eli, who had been silently cleaning the room, spoke up. "Is there anything else, Young Master?"
"No," I started to say, but then he paused by the door, his hand on the handle.
"There is one other thing," he said, not turning around. His voice was quiet. "Baron Kessler's men were here yesterday morning. They said they would return today if their payment wasn't made."
My blood ran cold. "Today? As in, *this* today?"
Eli turned his head just enough for me to see his profile. "They did not specify an hour. But they are coming."
Just then, that familiar blue flicker returned to my vision.
'[Quest Update: Earn 50 Gold by week's end.]'
'[Time Remaining: 6 Days, 22 Hours, 14 Minutes]'
The countdown had started. And the debt collectors were on their way.