Nobles Just Need to Shut Up

The streets of Esztheran stretched wide before us, bustling with merchants, nobles, and workers moving in a rhythm only a city built on trade and mana veins could maintain. The morning sun cast golden light over the white stone pathways, illuminating the flow of people navigating their daily lives.

I walked alongside Reilan, my personal caretaker and one of my father's combat trainees. He had been in the Tomaszewski household for as long as I could remember, caught between the roles of my handler and my sibling figure. Though he always maintained the proper etiquette of a noble servant in public, in private, he was infuriatingly informal.

Asmodeus walked on my other side, every bit as restless as ever. The city fascinated him, but in his usual fashion, he had a bad habit of treating everything like an obstacle to challenge or a battlefield to conquer. Even now, his eyes darted between stalls and street performers, likely calculating how to turn this mundane trip into some kind of competition.

"So, Chi, feeling any grandeur today?" Reilan teased, glancing at me with an exaggerated smirk. "City air got you feeling all high and mighty yet?"

I gave him a flat look. "No."

"Ugh, you're no fun." He sighed dramatically, ruffling his dark hair. "How does someone this small have the personality of a brick wall?"

"Effortlessly," I replied.

Asmodeus snorted. "That's her natural talent. Being impossibly dull."

Reilan grinned, throwing an arm over Asmodeus's shoulder. "You get it, 'Mode. See? I knew I wasn't alone in this."

I rolled my eyes. The two of them had bonded over their shared enthusiasm for not shutting up, and it had only made my life harder.

We weaved through the streets, stopping occasionally when Asmodeus got distracted by something questionable. Whether it was a weapons stand displaying enchanted daggers or a street brawl he felt inclined to join, Reilan had his work cut out for him keeping us on track. I simply observed, listening to the murmur of the city around me.

The people of Esztheran spoke in hushed tones as we passed. Some greeted us with cautious pleasantries, their voices laced with respect and curiosity. Others whispered, their gazes flickering between us before quickly averting their eyes.

"The Tomaszewski child…" someone murmured under their breath. "Strange eyes, that one."

"A noble lineage, but rumors say…" another voice trailed off as if afraid to finish the thought.

A merchant bowed slightly as we passed his stall. "Lady Tomaszewski, an honor," he said, though his eyes darted toward Reilan and Asmodeus, measuring their presence.

Further down, an elderly woman clutched her shawl tighter, muttering, "The Saegusa watches over them. It is not for us to question."

Not for us to question? I'll keep that in mind. 

I was used to it.

It had been this way ever since I was born.

We stopped by a small plaza to watch a street performer manipulating wind magic into elaborate ribbons of light. The magic twisted and danced, catching the sunlight and refracting in mesmerizing patterns. The crowd around him murmured in appreciation, tossing coins into a small wooden bowl at his feet. The performer's hands moved in practiced motions, guiding the currents of air with finesse, shaping them into forms that momentarily resembled beasts before shifting into dazzling spirals.

Reilan stretched, glancing around before rolling his shoulders. "I'm going to grab something to drink. Asmodeus, watch over Chi for a minute, will you?"

Asmodeus scoffed, crossing his arms. "What do you think I've been doing?"

Reilan smirked. "Causing problems, mostly."

I sighed. "I don't need a babysitter."

Reilan winked. "Sure, you don't. But I'd rather not come back to find the city in flames because you two decided to start a war with some unsuspecting noble."

Asmodeus grinned. "No promises."

Reilan chuckled before disappearing toward a nearby vendor. Asmodeus and I remained, watching the wind dancer as he shaped the air into a glowing dragon before letting it disperse into shimmering dust. The applause around us was polite but subdued—this was, after all, Esztheran. A place where magic was common, yet always judged.

I listened, half-focused on the performer, half-aware of the murmurs that never truly stopped.

It was then that I heard it.

"…tainted bloodline. It's unfortunate, really. I thought the Tomaszewski name had more dignity than to let something like that into their lineage."

"…tainted bloodline. It's unfortunate, really. I thought the Tomaszewski name had more dignity than to let something like that into their lineage."

I turned my head slightly, just enough to see her without being obvious. She was dressed in fine silks, her jewelry simple but undoubtedly expensive. She wasn't speaking to me directly—she wouldn't dare—but her words were meant to be heard.

Reilan returned just in time to hear it, his steps slowing as he approached with drinks in hand. The usual playfulness vanished from his face. "Excuse me?"

Asmodeus, unsurprisingly, was already halfway to stepping forward, his golden eyes darkening. His entire stance shifted—less a child, more a noble who knew exactly what his name meant.

"You want to say that again, old hag?" His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a weight that made the noblewoman's spine stiffen. She knew the consequences of insulting a Tomaszewski in the presence of a Saegusa.

I exhaled sharply, my patience wearing thin. Before they could escalate the situation further, I snapped my fingers. A subtle pulse of mana rippled through the air—sudden and unseen, but potent.

Both Reilan and Asmodeus froze in place, their weights drastically increasing, feet anchored to the ground. Reilan barely managed to keep the drinks from spilling, eyes widening in shock. Asmodeus grit his teeth, realizing instantly what had happened.

The noblewoman's gaze flickered between us, oblivious to the real cause, but the watching crowd murmured. Some nodded in approval—seeing it as discipline, as if I had my guards on a tight leash. Others exchanged glances, disapproving, as though it were improper to control servants so freely.

Once I was sure they wouldn't move, I met the noblewoman's gaze and delivered my words.

"I understand," I said calmly.

She blinked, confused for a moment. "Understand?"

"Yes," I continued, tilting my head slightly. "It must be difficult, seeing someone who doesn't fit into your carefully arranged world. The discomfort you feel is understandable. Change can be unsettling."

Her lips pressed together. "…I wasn't—"

"But," I continued smoothly, not giving her room to talk, "the problem isn't my existence. It's your inability to accept that the world moves forward with or without you."

She paled slightly. Around us, more people had begun to listen.

I kept my voice steady. Unbothered. Untouchable.

"The Tomaszewski name has never needed validation from people like you. It won't start now."

Silence.

The noblewoman's lips parted as if to say something—perhaps a weak defense or an attempt to redirect the conversation—but she quickly realized she had already lost.

With a sharp huff, she turned away, her posture stiff, and disappeared into the crowd.

After she left, Reilan strode up to me, handing me a drink with a quiet sigh. "That was reckless."

I sipped it, unfazed. "It was necessary."

Reilan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Chi, you're supposed to keep your magic a secret."

Asmodeus scoffed. "She handled it."

Reilan gave him a pointed look. "And you were about to start a full-blown scene." Then, after a pause, he smirked slightly. "But... thanks for standing up for her."

Asmodeus huffed but didn't argue.

I simply continued drinking, ignoring the whispers that refused to fade. "We should keep moving."

Reilan sighed. "You're cold, you know that?"

I exhaled through my nose. "I know."

But as we walked away, I noticed something.

The whispers hadn't stopped.

They had just changed.

And that, more than anything, told me what I already knew.

The world had noticed me.

And it wasn't going to forget.

After the confrontation, Reilan suggested stopping by a store before returning home. The idea was simple—cool down, browse, and avoid more unnecessary trouble.

"We should check out the bazaar," I said without hesitation.

Asmodeus groaned. "Boring. Let's go to the weapons shop instead."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "We don't need weapons."

"And you don't need more random gossip," he shot back. "Seriously, what do you even get out of eavesdropping on a bunch of merchants?"

"Information," I said flatly. "Trade shifts, noble dealings, rumors. The bazaar is the best place to learn what's really going on."

Asmodeus crossed his arms. "Yeah, well, I'd rather learn how to kill things more effectively."

Reilan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Here we go again."

The argument was ridiculous, yet familiar. Too familiar.

I wasn't just bickering with Asmodeus—I was bickering with Lucian.

For a brief moment, the weight of it settled in my chest. Lucian, my ever-determined, battle-hungry counterpart, always eager to sharpen his craft, always arguing with me over strategy versus direct action. And now, here I was, locked in yet another pointless dispute with someone who felt eerily the same.

It was enough to make my fingers twitch.

I wasn't searching for them—at least, not consciously. But moments like this made something stir inside me, like an old memory trying to resurface. Lucian and X... they should be somewhere in this world. And yet, every time I felt something familiar, it slipped just beyond my grasp.

"…Earth to Chiori?" Asmodeus waved a hand in front of my face.

I blinked, snapping out of it. "We're going to the bazaar."

"Weapons," he countered.

I folded my arms. "Bazaar."

Reilan chuckled, watching us like an amused older brother. "How about a compromise?"

We both turned to glare at him.

He grinned. "We stop by the bazaar first, grab whatever intel Little Miss Strategist wants, and then we head to the weapons shop so 'Mode here doesn't combust from lack of violence."

Asmodeus huffed but looked satisfied. "Fine. But I'm picking the weapons."

I exhaled through my nose. "Agreed."

"Good," Reilan said, clapping his hands. "Now let's get moving before you two kill each other over something this dumb."

I didn't respond. I was still caught in the lingering feeling—the echo of a life before this one.

Lucian… Where are you?

The market was a haze of movement, merchants calling out their wares, haggling echoing between stalls, and the scent of spices and fresh bread mixing with something faintly metallic—likely enchanted goods. My ears picked up snippets of conversation as we moved, and I let them filter through, gathering what was worth remembering.

"…Saegusa influence remains strong, but there are nobles questioning their methods—"

"—military requisitions have increased in the south; some say war preparations, others say deterrence—"

"—Tomaszewski presence is thinner lately. Have they lost favor?"

That last one nearly made me pause.

Asmodeus groaned beside me. "You're actually listening to this drivel?"

"Not drivel," I murmured, keeping my pace. "Information."

Reilan hummed, half-distracted by a stall selling candied fruit. "She's not wrong, 'Mode. These rumors have to start somewhere."

I tucked the bits of knowledge away for later. If people thought our standing was weakening, then that could be used or countered depending on how my parents handled it. Knowing was the first step to control.

But before I could think too much, the energy of the bazaar shifted.

A dispute was escalating near a merchant's stall, voices rising over the usual chatter. A noble youth, no older than twelve, stood stiffly in front of an older merchant, his expression twisted in irritation.

"I don't care about your prices," the noble scoffed. "I should not have to pay when my family funds half of this district."

The merchant's face remained carefully neutral, but I could see the tension in his grip. "With all due respect, young lord, my wares are fairly priced."

"You dare talk back to me?"

I exhaled. This again. Nobles throwing weight around just because they could. And people wondered why our kind had a reputation.

Reilan had noticed too. "Think we should step in?"

I was already moving.

I stopped just beside the scene, my presence enough to draw attention. The noble boy's gaze flickered to me—his posture stiffened slightly. Recognition. Hesitation.

I met his eyes and let my voice carry, even but sharp. "You know, it's a bit pathetic to demand something for free just because of your last name."

The boy's face turned red. "What—"

"If your family truly funds half the district, then surely you can afford a few coins, yes?" I tilted my head. "Or is your name only valuable when spoken?"

The merchant barely held in his smirk. Around us, a few onlookers murmured.

The noble gritted his teeth but turned sharply on his heel, marching off without another word.

Reilan exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You really have a way with words, don't you?"

I ignored him, glancing back at the merchant. "Your business is your own. If he bothers you again, please report it."

The merchant nodded, eyes grateful. "Thank you, Lady Tomaszewski."

Asmodeus muttered under his breath. "And people wonder why nobles have a reputation."

I didn't answer. Because something else had caught my attention

Amid the busy stalls, something pulled at me—a presence, a feeling, like a memory trying to surface. My eyes locked onto a small, unassuming stand near the edge of the bazaar, nestled between more extravagant displays. The merchant there was quiet, but something about one particular item on the table felt… off.

I stepped toward it, unaware that my feet had moved on their own.

Reilan noticed. "Chi?"

I didn't answer.

I reached out, my fingers hovering just above the surface of the object. The closer I got, the stronger the pull became—a strange, almost gravitational force that sent a shiver down my spine.

The item itself was deceptively ordinary: a small, polished stone embedded in a silver pendant, its surface smooth yet subtly shifting, as if something beneath the surface was alive. A quiet hum resonated in my bones, something too faint for anyone else to notice.