As evening fell, firelight replaced the fading sun. Throughout the castle, every room but Zhao Hai's was lit by torches. Only his room had a magic lamp — a fist-sized glowing stone set in the ceiling, the only one in the entire castle.
Magic stones came from two sources. The first were mined from underground deposits — varying in quality based on stored energy. High-grade stones could power magical equipment; lower-grade ones served only as light. All mined stones were single-use: once their energy was spent, they were worthless.
The second type came from magical beasts — rare, found in fewer than one in ten creatures, and far more valuable despite their lower energy output. These could recharge themselves over time by absorbing ambient magical energy, making them reusable. Both types were expensive beyond what ordinary people could afford.
House Buda was already operating on bare survival. Grimm had purchased only a handful of magic stones, each treated as precious. Torches for everyone — except the Young Master's room.
By the time Merlin finished cooking, the slaves had already eaten and retired. Meg went to wake Zhao Hai.
He was deeply asleep — genuinely, peacefully asleep. The residual water-element magic from Merlin's weeks of healing treatment had accumulated in his body, and water element carried a natural calming effect. With his mind finally at ease, his body had given in completely.
Meg knocked. No answer. She knocked again. Still nothing. She pushed the door open and found him completely unconscious, breathing slowly and evenly.
She sighed — either he had nerves of steel or he had lost his mind — and shook his shoulder gently.
"Young Master. It's time for dinner."
"What time is it?" he muttered.
"Seven in the evening, Young Master."
He blinked open his eyes, looked at her, looked at the window. Dusk. He sat up and rubbed his face. Then: "Meg, what's today's date?"
"April sixth, Young Master."
He worked it out quietly. He had lost consciousness on the seventeenth of February. Over a month had passed — and he felt completely fine. On Earth that would have been a medical miracle. Here, Merlin's healing magic had simply handled it.
He swung his legs off the bed. Meg immediately moved to retrieve his boots.
"It's alright," Zhao Hai said quickly. "I can do it myself."
She hesitated. "Please, Young Master — it's my place to—"
"No, really." He took the boots from her hands and pulled them on himself.
Meg stared at him.
The old Adam had never dressed himself. Not once. The man standing in front of her now was a stranger wearing a familiar face.
"Let's go eat," he said. "I need to talk to Grandfather Grimm."
She led the way — he didn't know the castle layout yet.
He looked around as they walked. Stone corridors, old but solid, dimly lit by wall torches. He found himself liking it. This was what a proper castle should feel like.
He noticed the torches. He thought of magic stone prices. He glanced back, involuntarily, toward his room.
The only magic lamp in the castle is in my room. Something quiet and warm settled in his chest.
The dining room was modest — twenty square meters, a long rectangular table covered in white linen, twin candelabras burning with three candles each, eight fine wooden chairs, torches in each corner.
Grimm, Merlin, Blockhead, and Rockhead were all waiting, standing at attention. When he entered, they bowed together: "Good evening, Young Master. Please be seated."
He looked at the table. One place setting. His.
He sat, looked around the room, and said: "Grandfather Grimm, sit down and eat with me. I need to talk with you after dinner."
Grimm straightened immediately. "I cannot, Young Master. Imperial protocol does not permit servants to share a table with their lord."
Zhao Hai made a dismissive sound. "Imperial protocol. Not my rules. The Empire abandoned us — why should we follow their customs? Sit down, all of you. I won't eat alone. If none of you move, I'm not eating either."
Grimm looked helplessly at Merlin.
Merlin fixed him with a glare. "Don't look at me. The Young Master hasn't had a proper meal in over a month. If you want to watch him starve because of table manners, that's between you and your conscience."
Grimm capitulated. He sent Merlin and Meg to fetch the others' tableware and settled into a chair with Blockhead and Rockhead, who sat rigid and visibly uncomfortable — as though the chair itself were lined with needles. Both of them had barely spoken since meeting Zhao Hai. They were not quick-witted, and they knew it.
From Adam's memories, Zhao Hai knew who they were — orphans his father had taken in, not especially bright, but born with extraordinary physical talent. Under the Raging Dragon cultivation method, both had quietly reached the sixth rank of warrior — formidable strength, absolute loyalty, and zero ambition beyond serving House Buda.
While Merlin was still in the kitchen, Zhao Hai turned to Grimm. "How much money do we have?"
Grimm was surprised, but answered. "One hundred and eighty gold coins, Young Master. All our supplies are accounted for, so the full amount is available."
"And the horses we used to transport everything — how many do we have?"
"Five, Young Master. We hired wagons for the journey. Given the limited land here, feeding more horses isn't practical."
Zhao Hai understood immediately. A good horse needed grain, not just grass — and grain wasn't something they had in abundance. Grimm had planned carefully. Nothing wasted.