Seven collapsed on the desk chair.
The climb from the village had taken more out of his stamina than he had expected. His lungs burned as he dragged a hand through his hair.
"Damn it. I can't think of anything."
Spinning his chair around, his eyes locked onto the calendar pinned to the bathroom door.
"Should I just walk up to Heinrich and demand to join the ranks? That's not possible. That's a total counter-intuitive to how this hierarchy works."
Seven Hart, again, locked himself up inside the manor for fifteen years. Suddenly asking for a sword would sound like a delusional cry for attention.
Even so, considering how serious the situation was and his upcoming predicament, he had prepared himself to endure a little scorn.
"Fudge it. I am the lord here, and they are my knights. What the hell am I even hesitating for?"
Seven grabbed the pen and stabbed the date of the calendar, then dragged it to draw a circle on the 2nd day of Bruma.
Soon after, he scribbled X over and over to hide that circle, because it was now clear that the circle meant Seven had attempted to form a ring that day.
And he had no plans of doing that for the moment.
"There's no point in trying again and again as long as that curse is inside me. No damn change would change."
Creak.
Seven left the room.
The gate of the manor at the far end of the courtyard was visible through the window of the hallway. A knight was standing guard beside it.
"Heinrich."
Heinrich never patrolled the premises based on his memories, and his observation from earlier, where a new pair of knights patrolled the yard every three hours.
Heinrich only stood by the gate almost every day like a statue.
Step, step.
Seven continued his walk. Before the staircase leading to the ground floor, Seven passed a room labeled as a library.
Curious, he reached out and twisted the brass knob.
Click.
It was locked.
Seven frowned. He possessed zero memory of ever entering this room. It was as if the library was a completely restricted zone, but how else would he explain the books inside his drawer?
"Ah. Iria has been the one bringing books to my room. How bizarre."
"My lord?"
Iria paused, walking up the stairs whilst holding a tray with a steaming bowl resting on it.
"May I ask where you are going, my lord? I figured you would be in your room reading books at this time of the day."
"Iria."
Seven locked his gaze on hers.
"Yes, my lord?"
"I have made up my mind. I'm going to train in swordsmanship."
"Pardon?"
"I refuse to let this curse dictate my path. I won't sit still and wait for fate to decide the ending written for me."
Seven then extended his right hand toward the yard and curled his fingers into a fist.
"I'll change it myself. And if I die… at least I died trying."
"…"
Iria stared at him blankly.
A minute of silence settled over the corridor.
Under Iria's unblinking gaze, Seven could feel a cold bead of sweat slowly tracing down his neck.
'I know that was cringe, but isn't that how these speeches are supposed to work? Come on, say something.'
Ding!
> [ Pfft! Did you just attempt a protagonist monologue right now? ]
'Not you, damn it. Get the fudge out of my sight.'
The system interface vanished.
In that same instant, Iria gave a small nod.
"As you wish, my lord. I will notify Sir Heinrich immediately. For now, please return to your room and have some of the potato stew I have pre—"
But.
Seven suddenly grabbed the bowl.
The thought of relying on someone else to pass along his intentions felt like the behavior of an uncool character.
'Damn it all!'
Tilting the bowl back, he gulped the entire stew down in one go.
Seven knew damn well the potato stew had just come off the stove. But that was the last thing that mattered right now.
The moment the stew slid down his throat, his esophagus felt like it had been set on fire. The bowl fell from his hands.
"Pwah! Graaah! Hot, hot, hot! My throat… it's burning!"
Iria quickly set the tray aside and placed a hand over his throat, casting a small spell. A faint green glow surrounded his neck, easing the burning pain.
Cracka.
"Please refrain from doing such behavior, my lord. That could have been dangerous if I was not in the vicinity."
Seven coughed violently. Despite the droplet of tears forming in his eyes, he forced himself to straighten his posture and he showed no regret.
"I was confident you'd heal me."
Seven calculated this. He knew Iria would heal him. This was the quickest way to prove his resolve and determination.
"Back to it. I… cough! will inform Heinrich myself. You know I would climb even the highest cloud if I set my mind to it."
"You… are right, my lord. Your stubbornness is one of the things I admire."
Iria sighed softly.
Simply put, Iria knew nothing could stop the lord once he had made up his mind. He had always been like this, and his repeated attempts to form his first ring over the years were proof enough.
Perhaps it was not determination, but desperation.
Regardless.
"But it seems a snowstorm may arrive soon. The snowfall has increased slightly today. This should help you bear the cold, just as it did in the village, my lord."
"Aight."
Iria finished casting the thin barrier spell, and Seven gave in to a passing intrusive thought. He reached forward and gently pinched her cheeks.
"..."
"..."
They stared at each other.
Iria's expression did not change in the slightest.
"I—"
"I do not mind, my lord. You may keep your hands there longer if you wish. Skin contact can sometimes be a good source of warmth."
"No. It was just a joke."
"I don't mind."
Seven quickly pulled his hands back.
Without another word, Iria crouched down and picked up the bowl Seven had dropped earlier.
"If that is the case, my lord, please try not to push yourself too much. I shall be watching over you after I finish my chores."
"Sure. I'll keep that in mind."
Bowing slightly, Iria turned and walked down the stairs toward the kitchen.
Seven remained where he stood.
He stared down at his hands, slowly flexing his fingers. He could still remember the feeling: those ultra hyper and super soft, cotton-like cheeks.
But.
"…Damn it. What the fudge did I just do?"
— – - 777 - – —
Heinrich stood by the gate.
Snowfall began to pile along the yard, and the already pale sunlight grew dimmer with each passing second. Gray clouds slowly covered the sky.
Even so, Heinrich couldn't stop thinking about the young lord.
Heinrich could not sense even the faintest trace of a zi ring from him, but the young lord's gaze and demeanor were still as fierce as any true descendant of House Hart.
'If only the young lord had the resolve to walk the path of the sword…'
Heinrich quickly dismissed the thought.
Speculation was an inefficient waste of mental bandwidth.
The young lord had never stepped outside the manor before, earlier being a rare exception. There was no point forcing him toward the path of the sword now.
Besides, the young lord's formal coming-of-age ceremony was fast approaching.
Once it arrived, Heinrich would finally be free to return to the main dukedom and serve properly as a knight, rather than spending his days guarding this quiet estate and only visiting the capital once in a while.
His only task here was simple: keep the young lord safe until that ceremony.
Then again, Heinrich was a paragon knight, meaning he had 3 zi rings formed.
Truth be told, fifteen years of pay at this peaceful manor had left his savings accounts thoroughly bloated. He intended to purchase property in the capital and establish a family.
Heinrich drew his sword from its scabbard.
"The humidity is causing abrasions along the fuller. If I return to the capital with a rusted blade, it will negatively impact my reputation."
Heinrich yawned and checked his pocket watch.
For some inexplicable reason, Heinrich hadn't slept a single wink the previous night. It was that annoying intuition common among veterans that something bad would happen if he were to let his guard down.
Step, step.
A young man walked across the yard and headed toward Heinrich. His dark-brown hair, touched with black near the surface, caught the dim winter light.
Heinrich formally bowed.
"I greet the young lord."
Seven stopped three steps in front of him.
"Heinrich."
"Yes?"
Heinrich slowly raised his chin, his expression entirely stoic.
Seven gulped.
He had practiced this line repeatedly on his way here, yet now that the moment had arrived, his throat felt completely dry.
"I want to join the ranks as a knight cadet."