COUGH!!!
He shook his head. Too far ahead. Too far ahead.
First things first: he needed to see what this thing could do.
He reached for a flower pot.
Then stopped.
His hand hovered in the air, the Irminsul branch still in his palm.
Wait.
He looked at the flower pot. A small, clay thing, barely big enough for the sunflower he'd grown earlier. Filled with whatever cheap soil the tavern had lying around. Sitting on a windowsill in a rented room above a pub.
I'm about to plant a piece of a world tree. In a flower pot. In my bedroom.
He imagined the branch sprouting. Growing. Expanding.
Irminsul trees, in Genshin, were massive. The kind of thing that had roots reaching across continents.
Even if this was just a branch, even if it started small...
What happened when it outgrew the pot? When its roots cracked through the floor? When it started drawing energy from... Well... wherever world trees drew energy from?
And more importantly—what happened when the tavern owner came upstairs and found a glowing magical tree growing in one of his rooms?
"...Yeah, no," Otto muttered, lowering the branch.
He needed space. He needed somewhere he could experiment without someone walking in out of nowwhere.
Somewhere he could figure out what this thing actually did without accidentally destroying someone's property.
Hmph! Definitely not because he didn't want to give birth to his daughter here!
DEFINITELY!!!
He stood up, pocketed the branch carefully, and gathered the other seeds into the burlap sack. The 1-star seeds he could deal with later. The 2-star ones too. But the Irminsul branch needed proper attention.
He'd find an open space. A garden, a field, somewhere outside the city. Somewhere he could plant this thing and see what happened.
He slung the sack over his shoulder and headed for the door.
---
He made it three steps out of his room before he ran into someone.
"Ah, Master Otto. I was just about to knock."
The voice was smooth, refined, and carried the kind of polite formality that immediately made Otto's shoulders tense.
Standing in the narrow hallway was an elderly man in a crisp butler's outfit. Black tailcoat, white gloves, silver hair slicked back with mathematical precision. His posture was so straight it looked painful. His face was weathered but composed, with the kind of expression that had seen generations of noble family drama and learned to judge it all silently.
He looked exactly like a butler from a period drama. Right down to the slight, condescending arch of one eyebrow.
Otto's memory supplied the name before his brain could catch up.
Sebastian.
The old man was a messenger—or something like one—for the Hitler family. The noble family that had disowned the original Otto after the duel. Sebastian wasn't family, but he'd been around long enough to know all the skeletons in the closet. In the original Otto's memories, this guy was the one who delivered letters from his father. Usually letters that began with "We are disappointed" and ended with "Do better."
"Sebastian," Otto said cautiously. "What are you doing here?"
As for how the guy had found him? He guess that with the noble family capability, his tale of getting drunk in here had been told to the family head, his father.
The butler inclined his head, a gesture that somehow managed to be both respectful and dismissive at the same time.
"I have been dispatched to deliver a message from your father, sir. Regarding your current situation."
"My current situation," Otto repeated flatly. "You mean being disowned, expelled, and left to rot in a pub?"
Sebastian's expression didn't change. "Indeed, sir. The family has been... monitoring your circumstances since the incident at the Freya Art Academy."
Monitoring. Right. That was one word for it. Otto remembered the original Otto's memories—the cold letters, the demands to "uphold the family name," the complete silence after the duel. They'd cut him loose the moment he became inconvenient.
"What does my father want?" Otto asked, keeping his voice even.
Sebastian reached into his coat and produced a sealed envelope, holding it out with both hands like he was presenting a royal decree.
"Due to the... unfortunate events at Freya Academy, and the subsequent damage to the family's reputation, it has been decided that you will be transferred to a different institution."
Otto took the envelope, turning it over. The seal was intact—a stylized 'H' that he vaguely recognized from the original Otto's memories.
"Transferred?" he said slowly. "I was expelled. Isn't that the opposite of transferred?"
Sebastian's eyebrow twitched. Barely. "The family has... connections. The Origami Art Academy in the neighboring city has agreed to accept you for enrollment. Classes begin tomorrow."
Otto stared at him.
Another academy?
He thought about the original Otto's experience at Freya. The duel. The humiliation. The whole mess that had ended with a system trying to turn him into a villain.
He didn't want to go back to that. He didn't want to be around nobles and artists and whatever other pretentious types populated these academies. He had plants to grow. Seeds to collect. A stupid support class to figure out. The last thing he needed was—
"The family has also authorized me to provide you with this," Sebastian added, reaching into his coat again.
He produced a small leather pouch, the kind that jingled when moved.
Otto's mouth opened to refuse.
The pouch hit his palm before he could get the words out. He could feel the weight of it. The clink of metal.
Gold.
He opened the pouch. Golden coins gleamed up at him, stamped with the crest of some kingdom he didn't care about. There were maybe ten of them. Ten gold coins. In a world where a room cost one silver a night, and a silver was a hundredth of a gold...
That was a lot of money.
"Your pocket money, sir," Sebastian said smoothly. "It will be provided monthly, on the condition that you maintain enrollment at the Origami Art Academy and do not bring further shame to the family name."
Otto looked at the gold. Looked at Sebastian. Looked back at the gold.
Pocket money.
This old man was bribing him. With his own family's money. To go back to school.
He should say no.
He should walk away.
He had seeds to plant, a golden branch to figure out, a whole new world to explore.
The last thing he needed was to sit in a classroom and pretend to be a failed art student from another academy who couldn't paint his way out of his mess after being a simp for who knows how long.
He should definitely say no.
The gold coins glittered in the afternoon light.
But...
He thought about the inn. The room. The fact that he had maybe two silver left to his name after buying the flute. The fact that he needed supplies for his plants. Soil, pots, space. The fact that being a wandering adventurer with no money and no connections in a pre-industrial world was probably a great way to die of dysentery in a ditch somewhere.
And the academy had space. Gardens, probably. Resources. A place where he could grow things without someone asking questions.
And, a smaller, more cunning part of his brain added, this old man probably wants me to graduate at least and not tarnish the family name as an academy lost and failed graduate.
Although he was expelled, what can he do? He will still be pointed at when meeting other noble families.
He could feel the words forming on his lips. The refusal. The declaration of independence. The "I don't need your charity" speech.
He swallowed it.
Let's just get some more gold coins from this old deng.
"Tomorrow, you said?" Otto asked, slipping the pouch into his pocket alongside the Irminsul branch.
Sebastian's expression didn't change, but something in his posture relaxed. Just slightly.
"Indeed, sir. A carriage will arrive at dawn to transport you to the Origami Art Academy. Your enrollment has already been processed. All that remains is your attendance."
Otto nodded slowly. "Fine. I'll go."
Sebastian gave a small bow. "Your father will be pleased to hear it, sir. I will take my leave."
He turned and walked down the hallway with the measured steps of a man who had spent decades perfecting the art of exiting rooms. At the stairwell, he paused.
"One more thing, sir."
Otto looked up.
"The Origami Art Academy has a rather... different atmosphere than Freya. The students there are not just from commoner, knight and noble families, the royalty descendants are currently also enrolled there" He paused. "It might be wise to keep a low profile, sir. At least at first."
Then he was gone, his footsteps fading down the stairs.
Otto stood in the hallway for a moment, the pouch of gold heavy in his pocket, the Irminsul branch pulsing softly against his thigh.
"Keep a low profile," he repeated. "Right. Because I'm so good at that."
He went back into his room, closed the door, and sat on the bed.
The seeds were still spread across the blanket. The golden branch was still in his pocket. The gold coins were... also in his pocket.
He pulled out the branch, looking at it in the fading afternoon light.
Tomorrow. Academy. Carriage at dawn.
Which meant tonight, he needed to figure out what to do with this thing before he had to sit in a classroom and pretend to be an art student.
He looked at the branch. Looked at the window. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and red.
He had a few hours before dark. Enough time to find somewhere quiet. Somewhere he could plant this thing and see what happened.
He tucked the branch back into his pocket, gathered the rest of the seeds into the sack, and headed for the stairs.
Tomorrow, art school. Tonight... I can grow a world tree!
He laughed quietly to himself.
Let's start looking for a place to plant his daughter!!
COUGH!! He means his WORLD TREE!