Seeing Lance finally paying attention, Viscount Lane could only sigh.
He looked at his second son with disappointment before speaking slowly, in the stern tone of a father who expected to be obeyed.
"I intend to send you to the Church. What do you think?"
The words sounded like a request for Lance's opinion, but anyone familiar with the viscount knew otherwise. When he phrased something this way, it meant the decision had already been made. No one in his territory defied his will.
Least of all his second son.
From childhood, Lance had been known for being timid and withdrawn. In everyone else's eyes, he was practically the definition of useless, and the viscount understood his own son's shortcomings better than anyone. He fully expected Lance to give a dull nod and accept the arrangement.
This child is nothing like his mother, the viscount thought. He has no will of his own.
Instead, Lance looked thoughtful.
That alone surprised the viscount. What came next surprised him even more.
"No, Father. I don't want to go to the Church."
Viscount Lane stared at his son in disbelief and, for a moment, even forgot to be angry.
"Oh? Why not?"
Lance answered calmly, "I hate charlatan priests."
Viscount Lane was left speechless.
His son's behavior tonight had already been strange enough. After thinking for a long moment, he finally snorted.
"I hate charlatan priests too."
Father and son looked at one another in silence, and an odd sense of understanding passed between them.
"But you still have to go to the Church." After a moment, the viscount's tone hardened. "You must understand that the other paths available to you are not suitable."
"No. I want to continue studying magic under Teacher Amman," Lance said.
The viscount frowned.
"Lance, everyone in this territory knows that you are the son I have doted on most, but even what I can spend on you has limits. Do you know how much your lessons with Amman have cost over the last six months? Nearly a third of the territory's tax revenue!"
"Even your elder brother, who will inherit this domain, has never received treatment like that. If you had talent for magic, it would be another matter. I did promise your mother that I would take good care of you... but you have shown no aptitude for it. I do not believe continuing to pay for your magical education is a wise choice."
Viscount Lane fixed his eyes on Lance.
If Lance could not give him a satisfactory reason, there would be nothing more to discuss tonight.
Lance thought for a moment.
"Father, what if I can draw that spell rune?"
"Then I will consider allowing Amman to remain your teacher," Viscount Lane replied without hesitation.
Lance nodded. "All right. Tomorrow night, I'll draw it."
Lane gave him a strange look. His son seemed almost like a different person.
"Are you certain? Tonight you tried until you collapsed and still failed."
"I'm certain. I only need one more chance," Lance said. "I was nervous tonight. Trust me, Father."
Viscount Lane fell silent for a while.
"Tomorrow night, after dinner, you will have one final chance in front of everyone."
"Thank you, Father."
The viscount waved a hand, warmth briefly entering his eyes. "Go back to your room and sleep. Rest well and conserve your strength."
Lance nodded respectfully.
...
At the viscount's call, a maid arrived to escort Lance back to his room.
Relying on the memories he had inherited, Lance awkwardly performed the local etiquette for taking his leave, then followed the slender maid through the dim castle.
She carried a candle. The castle was far darker and deeper than Lance had expected. They walked for a full five minutes before reaching the second floor, where his room was located.
Only members of the household with a certain standing lived on this level. Besides Lance, his three younger sisters occupied rooms nearby.
His elder brother, meanwhile, had moved out long ago to prove his competence to their father. He was stationed at the Red River Outpost in the northern reaches of the territory and rarely returned to the castle.
With Fox's help, those five short minutes were enough for Lance to sort out many of the former owner's more important memories.
Fox, his master chip, had three primary functions.
First, it could use Lance's bodily systems and his numerous subchips to collect and store information. Second, it possessed considerable computational ability. Third, it could analyze information using the data it had gathered and the results of its calculations.
Anything stored in the chip could be recalled whenever he needed it. It was extraordinarily convenient.
According to the memories I inherited, this maid is Father's personal attendant, but she was always very polite to me before. Today she's acting cold and barely acknowledges me as the second young master. She must think what happened tonight means I've completely lost Father's favor.
Lance watched the maid's indifferent expression and understood the situation.
In fact, she was not alone.
Everyone in the castle had known for half a year that allowing Lance to study magic under Wizard Amman was the viscount's final major investment in him. People did not particularly dislike Lance. He had simply always been timid and withdrawn.
According to stories spread by his former personal maid, the second young master spent his days shut in the study reading bizarre, fantastical books. Combined with his frail body, that made him an easy person to look down upon in a world where the strong preyed on the weak.
Until now, the viscount's protection had prevented anyone from showing that contempt openly. At least, no one had dared do so in front of him.
But things had changed.
Lance had disappointed his father and, in the eyes of the castle's inhabitants, had effectively been abandoned. Under those circumstances, even an ordinary maid saw no reason to worry about treating him coldly.
After all, she had been outside the study earlier and heard everything clearly.
Young Master Lance was about to be sent away to the ascetic camp.
'I heard the first thing they do in a place like that is brainwash you. Once that's done, you don't know anything anymore. All you know is how to serve the gods,' the maid thought.
Young Master Lance's life is basically over.
With that thought, she seemed to lose even the desire to pretend to be respectful.
They reached a corner where the corridor ahead was completely dark, and the maid suddenly stopped.
"Young Master Lance, I'll leave you here."
Her tone was dismissive. She made no effort to acknowledge that Lance's room was still some distance away through the darkness.
Lance frowned.
He had no idea where his room was.
He said nothing and simply stood there.
The maid gave a small snort, turned away with the candle, and walked off with a sway of her hips.
Lance forcibly suppressed his anger, took a deep breath, and turned toward the darkness.
'Luna, was it? You're a maid. Even if you're Father's personal maid, you dare treat one of your masters this way?'
He was furious, but he knew this was not the time to cause trouble.
Still, he remembered the name.
...
"Which door is mine?"
Lance stood in the middle of the corridor and scratched his head.
Fox searched the former owner's memories, only to discover that this particular detail was missing.
Apparently, only part of the original Lance's memories had survived. What remained tended to be the deeper and more important memories, while mundane details were much harder to recover.
At least two candles had been placed in wall sconces along the corridor, and they looked recently replaced. Five rooms lined the hall.
Lance had no idea which one belonged to him.
'Was he supposed to try every door?'
Troubled, he approached one at random and heard girls laughing inside.
That narrowed things down. The girls in there should be his sisters, which at least meant this was not his room.
He was about to turn away when the door suddenly opened.
"I'm going to see if that idiot Lance has come back yet..."
A clear female voice spoke as the door swung open.
Unfortunately for her, Lance was standing directly outside.
Being called an idiot behind his back did nothing to improve his mood, but he did not flare up immediately. Instead, he narrowed his eyes and studied both the girl in front of him and the others inside the room.
The girl at the doorway wore a loose emerald-green nightgown. There was very little fabric around the neckline, barely enough to preserve her modesty. She was tall, standing almost level with sixteen-year-old Lance.
'The curvy girl in green is Biqi, daughter of Father's first wife and the full sister of my elder brother. The two girls inside are Sabina, daughter of the second wife, and Irene, Father's adopted daughter.'
Lance quickly matched the three girls to his inherited memories.
Except for Irene, both were the viscount's daughters and Lance's half-sisters.
Lance's own mother had been the viscount's third wife. She had borne only one child and had died for reasons unknown when Lance was five.
If not for the viscount's forceful protection over the years, the young Lance might long ago have died to one scheme or another.
Biqi saw him standing in the doorway, yet showed no embarrassment at all. Instead, she smiled.
"Hey, Lance. I heard you're about to be sent to the ascetic camp. Don't tell me you came to say goodbye tonight?"
Biqi was the same age as Lance, sixteen, and already fully developed. A faint floral fragrance surrounded her. She was undeniably beautiful.
But from the memories buried deep within him, Lance knew that Biqi was every bit as calculating as her mother and had always regarded him as a thorn in her side.