The carriage was too comfortable.
That was the first thing I noticed, and honestly, the first thing I didn't like.
The seat was soft enough to make me forget my problems for a second. The inside was clean, polished, and smelled faintly of something expensive. It felt like this carriage belonged to someone who had never worried about money in their life.
Which made it very clear—
It didn't belong to me.
I shifted a little, trying to sit properly, like a noble should. It didn't help much. The more I sat there, the more I felt like I was pretending.
Across from me, the maid sat straight as always. Perfect posture. Calm face. Not a single useless movement.
Sometimes I wondered if she even got tired.
Probably not.
I glanced at her, then looked away and pulled the curtain slightly.
That was a mistake.
The city outside looked… perfect.
The roads were wide and clean. Buildings stood tall without cracks or damage. People walked around like they actually knew what they were doing with their lives.
No noise. No chaos. No signs of anything going wrong.
Everything worked.
I slowly let the curtain fall back.
"…Right," I muttered. "So this is where all the money went."
No answer came from the maid.
Of course.
She wasn't the type to laugh.
The carriage slowed down after some time. I straightened a bit without thinking. It just felt like something I had to do.
We stopped.
The door opened.
I stepped out—
And immediately wanted to go back inside.
The gate in front of me was huge. Not just big, but the kind of big that made you feel small for no reason. Guards stood on both sides, not even looking at me.
That somehow felt worse than being stared at.
I cleared my throat and stepped forward.
Inside, things only got worse.
The garden looked like someone spent their entire life taking care of it. The paths were clean. The trees were perfectly trimmed. Even the air felt… organized.
I glanced around and quickly stopped myself.
"Don't stare," I whispered to myself.
I was staring.
A servant came up to me and bowed slightly, then asked me to follow.
I did.
The maid walked beside me, a little closer than usual. I noticed it, but didn't say anything.
The walk felt longer than it should have.
Servants moved quietly around us. Knights stood in certain places like statues. No one spoke loudly. No one rushed.
Everything here felt controlled.
We finally entered the main building.
And yeah—
Calling it a mansion felt wrong.
This was something else.
The ceiling was high. The floor was so clean I could probably see my reflection if I tried. Paintings hung on the walls, and I was pretty sure each one could fix my estate's problems if sold.
"…I shouldn't touch anything," I muttered.
I meant it.
We walked through a few long halls before stopping at a door.
The servant opened it and stepped aside.
"Please wait here."
That was all he said before leaving.
Just like that.
No explanation.
No time.
Just… wait.
I stepped inside the room and looked around.
It was big, but simple compared to the rest of the house. Clean. Quiet. Almost too quiet.
I sat down slowly.
The maid stayed standing, as expected.
Of course she did.
I leaned back slightly and let out a quiet breath.
"…Alright," I murmured. "Let's see how this goes."
Something told me—
It wasn't going to be simple.
The silence didn't last long.
It changed first.
Not loudly. Not in a way I could point at and say there. Just… the room felt different. Like something important had stepped close enough that even the air noticed.
Then the door opened.
I stood up immediately.
Not because I wanted to.
Because my body decided it was the correct choice and didn't ask for my opinion.
The Duke entered without rushing.
He didn't look around the room. Didn't acknowledge the maid. Didn't waste a single movement on anything that didn't matter.
And right now—
That meant me.
His eyes settled on me and stayed there.
I held that gaze for about two seconds before my brain started offering very helpful suggestions like look away, leave, or fake death.
I did none of those.
Barely.
He walked closer, stopping at a comfortable distance. For him.
For me, it felt like standing too close to something sharp.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Just looked.
I had the strong feeling I was being measured.
Not judged.
Measured.
Which was worse.
Then, suddenly—
He laughed.
Soft. Short. Like something mildly surprising had just confirmed itself.
"I expected worse," he said.
That was… not a great start.
"I'll try harder next time," I replied before I could stop myself.
Great. Sarcasm. Against a Duke.
Perfect survival strategy.
His expression didn't change much, but his eyes sharpened slightly.
"You speak more carefully now," he said.
"That's what fear does," I said.
That part wasn't even sarcasm.
He studied me for a moment longer, then moved past me and took a seat like the room had always belonged to him.
Which, to be fair, it did.
I remained standing for a second before realizing that was probably not ideal and sat down as well.
There was a pause.
Not awkward.
Just… deliberate.
"You resemble your father," he said.
That again.
Everyone kept bringing him up like he was still here to fix things.
"I get that a lot," I replied.
"Not enough," he said calmly.
Right.
Of course.
He leaned back slightly, resting one arm against the chair.
"Your estate is failing."
Straight to it.
No soft words. No polite setup.
Just—
There it is.
"Yes," I said.
No point pretending otherwise.
He watched my reaction.
Probably expecting excuses.
I didn't have any good ones.
"That land fed three regions once," he continued. "Now it struggles to sustain itself."
I stayed quiet.
Because he wasn't wrong.
And because anything I said would probably make it worse.
"You understand why you're here?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Say it."
Of course he wanted to hear it.
I took a breath.
"I'm here because I need help," I said. "And you're the only one who can give it."
The words felt heavier once they were out.
He didn't react immediately.
Just looked at me again.
Measuring.
Again.
"And why," he asked, "should I?"
Fair question.
Terrible timing.
For a moment, my mind went completely blank.
Then something surfaced—
Not memory.
More like… instinct.
"If I fail," I said slowly, "the estate collapses completely."
He didn't interrupt.
Which was somehow more pressure.
"That affects more than just me," I continued. "Land, people, trade. It creates problems."
Still nothing.
So I kept going.
"But if I succeed," I added, "you don't just save it."
I met his eyes.
"You gain control over something that was already valuable."
Silence.
Then—
"You speak like a merchant," he said.
"That's because I can't afford to speak like a noble," I replied.
That one slipped out.
Again.
Great.
For a second, I thought I had gone too far.
Then—
A small smile.
Not warm.
Not friendly.
Just… interested.
"Honest," he said. "That's rare."
I wasn't sure if that was a compliment or a warning.
Probably both.
He leaned forward slightly.
"If I give you support," he said, "you will be responsible for what follows."
That sounded dangerous.
"Yes."
"No excuses."
"Yes."
"No delays."
"…Yes."
Each word felt like I was agreeing to something I didn't fully understand.
Which was accurate.
He watched me for a moment longer.
Then stood.
Just like that.
Decision made.
"I will give you one month," he said.
There it was.
A deadline.
Not help.
A test.
"If there is no result," he continued, "this ends."
Ends how?
He didn't explain.
He didn't need to.
"I understand," I said.
I didn't.
Not completely.
But I understood enough.
He stepped closer and placed a hand briefly on my shoulder.
It wasn't heavy.
But it felt like it carried weight anyway.
"Do not waste it," he said.
Then he walked past me.
The door opened.
And he left.
Just like that.
No drama.
No second look.
Like the decision had already been made long before I arrived.
I stayed where I was for a few seconds after the door closed.
Then let out a slow breath.
"…That went better than expected," I muttered.
A pause.
"…I think."
I wasn't entirely sure.
I stayed there for a few seconds after the Duke left.
Waiting.
For what, I wasn't sure.
Maybe for someone to come back and say it was all a misunderstanding. That the "one month" thing was a joke. That I could go home and pretend this never happened.
That didn't happen.
Instead, the door opened again.
One of the ministers walked in, holding a box.
A small box.
I looked at it, then at him.
"That's it?" I asked before I could stop myself.
The minister didn't react. Of course he didn't. He just walked forward and placed the box in front of me like he was delivering something completely normal.
Then he stepped back.
And waited.
Right.
So I was supposed to open it.
I reached forward and lifted the lid.
And then—
I forgot how to think for a second.
Gold.
Not a few coins.
Not something reasonable.
Just… gold.
Stacked. Packed. Shining like it had no idea what kind of problems it was about to solve.
I blinked once.
Then again.
My brain started working again, but not properly.
"…That's a lot," I said quietly.
That was the best I could do.
The minister remained silent.
Of course.
I stared at the coins, trying to understand the amount. Not just looking at it—but converting it.
Numbers started running in my head.
Slow at first.
Then faster.
Then—
"…Wait."
I leaned a little closer.
"No, that's not right."
I counted again.
Adjusted.
Converted.
And then it hit.
Five million.
Five.
Million.
For a second, everything else disappeared.
Debt?
Manageable.
Problems?
Temporary.
Life?
Suddenly very negotiable.
I leaned back slowly, closing the box halfway like that would somehow make it less overwhelming.
"…Alright," I muttered. "So that's what support looks like."
My mind immediately started calculating again.
What to fix first.
What could wait.
What could be ignored.
And then—
A different thought slipped in.
Quiet.
Simple.
Dangerous.
How much of this actually needed to be used properly?
I paused.
That thought stayed.
Longer than it should have.
"…Yeah, that's not a good sign," I muttered.
The maid stepped closer and placed a hand lightly on my head.
I didn't look at her.
Didn't ask why.
At this point, I just accepted that she did things when she felt like it.
"Five million," I said again under my breath.
Still didn't feel real.
I closed the box properly this time and stood up.
My legs felt… lighter.
Or maybe that was just the idea of money fixing everything.
It wouldn't.
I knew that.
Still—
It helped.
A lot.
As I picked up the box, I let out a small breath.
"One month," I murmured.
That didn't change.
Money didn't remove the deadline.
It just made failing more expensive.
And somehow—
That felt worse.
I stepped out of the room with the box in my hands.
Five million.
The number kept repeating in my head like it was trying to convince me it was real. It didn't feel real. It felt like the kind of amount people talked about, not something you casually carried out of a room.
Still—
I was carrying it.
Carefully.
Very carefully.
The hallway outside looked just as perfect as before. Clean. Quiet. Expensive in a way that didn't need to prove itself.
I walked a little slower this time.
Not because I was tired.
Because I was thinking.
Too much.
Money fixed problems.
That was the idea.
But it also created expectations.
And right now, I had both.
Great.
My attention drifted to a table placed near the wall. It held a few items—decorative, expensive, completely unnecessary.
The kind of things people didn't notice unless they were missing.
One of them caught my eye.
A pen.
Simple at first glance, but not really. The kind of simple that only existed because someone spent too much money making it look effortless.
I stopped.
Looked at it.
Then at the hallway.
No one seemed to care.
Of course they didn't.
Why would they?
I shifted the box slightly in one hand and picked up the pen with the other.
It felt… good.
Balanced. Smooth. Like it belonged in someone's hand who made decisions that mattered.
Not mine.
I turned it once between my fingers.
Thought about putting it back.
Didn't.
It slipped into my pocket easily.
Too easily.
For a second, I just stood there.
"…Right," I muttered under my breath.
I didn't need it.
That wasn't the point.
The thought settled in quietly.
Taking something small.
Unnoticed.
Easy.
That felt… natural.
Which was probably a problem.
I started walking again.
---
"Renard!"
I stopped.
That name still felt strange when someone said it like they actually knew me.
I turned.
A girl was running toward me.
Fast.
Too fast.
Before I could properly react, she was already in front of me.
And then—
She hugged me.
Just like that.
No hesitation. No warning. No concern for anything around us.
My brain stopped working for a second.
Not completely.
Just enough.
This had never happened before.
Not once.
Not in my old life.
Not here.
Now suddenly—
This?
I stood there, holding the box in one hand, completely unsure what I was supposed to do with the other.
My eyes shifted to the maid.
She leaned slightly closer and whispered, "The Duke's daughter. Your fiancée."
Of course.
Of course I had a fiancée.
Why wouldn't I?
That fit perfectly with everything else going wrong today.
The girl pulled back slightly, still smiling like this was the most normal thing in the world.
Which, for her, it probably was.
For me—
Not even close.
I stepped back a little.
Carefully.
The warmth lingered longer than it should have.
That was the problem.
It didn't feel forced.
It didn't feel uncomfortable in the way I expected.
It felt… natural.
And that made it worse.
She looked at me like she had been waiting.
Not politely.
Not formally.
Actually waiting.
That kind of expectation was dangerous.
Very dangerous.
I cleared my throat. "You're… doing well?"
That was the best I could manage.
She seemed happy with that.
Too happy.
"When are we getting married?" she asked without hesitation.
I choked.
Actually choked.
On nothing.
My own breathing, apparently.
Right.
Marriage.
Now.
Here.
In this situation.
Perfect.
"I'm not in a hurry," I said quickly.
That was the safest answer I could find.
She didn't seem bothered.
If anything, she looked like she had already decided something and I was just catching up.
"That's fine," she said lightly. "You can stay here today."
That sounded like a suggestion.
It didn't feel like one.
Behind me—
Something changed.
I didn't need to turn to know what it was.
I did anyway.
The maid stood where she had been.
Except—
There was a knife in her hand.
Not raised.
Not shaking.
Just there.
Like it had always been there.
Like it belonged there.
Right.
That was new.
No—
That was not new.
That was just the first time I noticed.
I moved immediately, grabbing her wrist before my brain had time to fully process what was happening.
For a second—
She didn't stop.
Not physically.
But the intent didn't disappear.
That was the problem.
It felt like I wasn't preventing something.
I was interrupting it.
"…That's enough," I said quietly.
My voice came out calmer than I felt.
Which was impressive, considering my mind was currently trying to process:
fiancée,
marriage,
knife,
and five million gold
all at the same time.
She looked at me.
Not surprised.
Not ashamed.
Just… waiting.
Then slowly—
Very slowly—
Her grip loosened.
The knife lowered.
Not dropped.
Just lowered.
Like she was choosing to stop.
Not being forced to.
That did not make me feel better.
Not even a little.
I let go of her wrist carefully.
Turned back to the girl.
She was still smiling.
Like nothing had happened.
Like this entire situation was completely normal.
"…I should go," I said.
That felt like the smartest decision I had made all day.
She didn't stop me.
Just waved lightly.
"I'll be waiting," she said.
That sounded harmless.
It wasn't.
---
I walked away.
Calmly.
Not too fast.
Not too slow.
The moment we were far enough—
I exhaled.
Hard.
"…What is wrong with her?" I muttered.
The maid didn't answer.
Of course she didn't.
I glanced at her.
"…And what is wrong with you?" I added.
Still nothing.
Right.
So that was my situation now.
A fiancée who acted like we were already married.
A maid who might stab people if she felt like it.
And five million gold in my hand.
I adjusted my grip on the box slightly.
My other hand brushed against my pocket.
The pen was still there.
Of course it was.
Small things.
Taken quietly.
Kept easily.
I looked ahead and sighed.
"…This is going to be a long month."
We had barely made it past the main gate when I felt it again.
That quiet shift.
The kind that didn't announce itself, but made you aware that something was about to happen whether you liked it or not.
I stopped walking.
"…Don't tell me," I muttered under my breath.
Of course it was.
Someone was standing ahead.
Not blocking the way. Not calling out. Just waiting, like he had all the time in the world and I was the only thing on his schedule.
The knight.
Right.
I didn't remember him.
But the moment I saw his face, something in me reacted anyway. Not fear exactly. More like recognition without memory.
Which was somehow worse.
He looked at me.
Calm. Steady. Completely sure of himself.
"You remember," he said.
Not a question.
Of course not.
Why would anything today give me options?
"Enough," I replied.
That seemed like the safest lie I could manage.
His eyes narrowed slightly, like he was checking if I was worth the effort.
"The last time you stood here," he said, "you were louder."
Ah.
So past me had been stupid.
Publicly stupid.
That explained a lot.
"I'm working on that," I said. "Trying to be less memorable."
"Not yet."
That was… unnecessarily accurate.
He stepped closer, stopping just close enough to make it clear this wasn't casual. Every movement was controlled, like he had practiced this kind of moment before.
Which he probably had.
"You challenged my name," he said. "In front of others."
Of course I did.
Why wouldn't I make enemies with people who clearly knew how to use swords?
"I did," I admitted.
No point denying something that obviously happened.
For a moment, he just looked at me.
Not angry.
Not shouting.
Just waiting.
Like he wanted to see if I understood what that meant.
I did.
Unfortunately.
Even if I didn't remember the moment, I understood the result. This wasn't about words anymore. This was about reputation, and I had apparently stepped on his in front of an audience.
"If it helps," I added, because my brain clearly wanted to make things worse, "I don't remember doing it."
There was a pause.
Small.
But tight.
His hand shifted slightly at his side. Not enough to draw a weapon, but enough to show that I had hit something real.
Right.
So that was the wrong answer.
Or maybe just the honest one.
"I won't repeat myself," he said.
Naturally.
"I challenge you."
There it was.
Clean. Simple. No drama.
Just a problem placed directly in front of me.
For a second, I thought about refusing.
It would be easier.
Safer.
And completely useless.
People like this didn't forget. They just waited until it became inconvenient for you.
So no.
Running wasn't an option.
Which meant pretending I had control was the next best thing.
"Thirty days," I said.
He didn't react.
That wasn't comforting.
"If we fight now, I lose," I continued. "Quickly."
No pride left to protect there.
"But in thirty days…" I paused, choosing my words carefully this time. "It might actually be worth your time."
Silence.
He watched me, like he was deciding whether this was confidence or desperation.
Honestly?
It was both.
"You want a proper result," I added. "Not something forgettable."
That seemed to matter.
A little.
The silence stretched just enough to feel heavy.
Then—
"Thirty days," he said.
Agreement.
Sharp. Final.
"If you run," he added, "it won't matter where."
"I won't," I replied.
That part was easy.
Running required options.
I didn't have any.
He held my gaze for one last moment, then turned and walked away.
No warning.
No extra words.
Just done.
For now.
---
I stood there for a few seconds after he left.
Processing.
Or trying to.
"…Right," I muttered. "Of course there's a duel."
Because why wouldn't there be?
Debt.
Deadline.
Engagement.
Almost-stabbing.
And now this.
Perfect balance.
I exhaled slowly and started walking again.
My hand brushed lightly against my pocket.
The pen.
Still there.
Of course it was.
Small things.
Taken without asking.
Kept without consequences.
For now.
"…Thirty days," I said under my breath.
Enough time to prepare.
Or enough time to panic properly.
Either way—
It was going to be a long month.