Every Loss Has Its Gain

Translator: CinderTL

Paul stood by the window in the study of the lord's manor, his fingers gently tracing the familiar wood grain on the window frame.

Seven days of disappearance felt like seven years, or perhaps ten, or even more to him. In that alternate dimension where there were no clocks, no day or night, time was impossible to measure precisely.

It felt like a long dream, but the rough texture under his fingertips reminded him—this was reality.

"Phillip," he called for the old butler, his voice slightly hoarse. "Please summon Ford, Schroeder, Bryce, Cecil, Bernard, and Hansel. Tell them... I'm back."

The old butler's eyes instantly reddened. As he bowed deeply, his silver hair trembled slightly in the sunlight. "Yes, my lord."

Paul then turned to the captain of the guards. "Victor, arrange for someone to notify the gentlemen."

As Victor turned to carry out the order, Paul noticed the captain's boots stumbled at the threshold. This usually composed warrior had momentarily lost his composure.

Half an hour later, hurried footsteps echoed in the corridor.

The first to rush in was Bryce Alder, the usually brash artillery director. When he saw the figure by the window, he froze in place, his lips trembling but unable to speak.

"What, don't recognize me after just seven days?" Paul teased, but he saw Bryce raise his hand to wipe his eyes fiercely.

As one of the few who knew about the lord's disappearance, Bryce had been filled with worry but had forced himself to maintain his usual demeanor in front of others.

Now that Paul had returned, he could finally show his true emotions.

Old Ford and Schroeder arrived almost simultaneously. The old knight's usually steady steps were now a chaotic rhythm on the floor, and the always meticulous Council of Administration director had his collar askew, clearly having run all the way.

"Lord Grayman..." the Council of Administration director began but choked up.

Cecil appeared like a ghost at the door, but his slightly trembling fingers betrayed his emotions.

The last to arrive were Bernard Francis and Hansel Abbott. Upon seeing Paul, they let out a sigh of relief, the gloom on their faces instantly dissipating.

Paul looked around at everyone, noticing the similar mix of exhaustion and joy in their eyes.

These seven days must have been an indescribable ordeal for them.

As the core of this group, Paul's sudden disappearance was undoubtedly terrifying, especially since he had no heir. It was like a looming collapse.

Fortunately, they had kept the secret, preventing panic from spreading.

"Please, sit," Paul said as he walked to the desk, his fingers lightly tracing the familiar patterns on the surface. "I know you have many questions..."

Sunlight streamed through the glass window, casting a warm band of light on the floor. Dust floated slowly in the beam, as if time in Alden Town had only just begun to flow again.

Half an hour later...

"And so, we returned to the real world."

Paul's fingers unconsciously rubbed the edge of the teacup, his gaze wandering over the patterns on the study's carpet.

Even though they had pieced together the sequence of events, everyone was still in awe of the mysterious alternate dimension Paul had described.

The realm of mental projection? It was hard to imagine what kind of place that could be! Old Ford suddenly remembered something important, "Lord Grayman, what about that Gabella assassin...?"

Everyone turned their gaze to Paul, only to see the tips of the lord's ears visibly redden. "About Nieve... or Coleridge, I mean, the assassin... this is another matter I need to address."

He cleared his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing unnaturally, "She... uh... is no longer a threat."

Schroeder frowned in confusion, "My lord, do you mean she has been executed?"

"No! Not that..." Paul quickly looked up, then just as swiftly lowered his head, somewhat embarrassed as he stared at his fingers.

"Then where is she now?" Bryce asked anxiously.

Paul's gaze suddenly became fixed on a corner of the ceiling, "She... temporarily... is in the lord's manor, with us..."

The study became so quiet you could hear a quill pen roll to the floor.

The other men all wore knowing expressions, while Bryce puffed up in anger, scolding Phillip and Victor, "How could you leave such a dangerous person by Lord Grayman's side?"

Paul hurriedly explained, "Don't worry, Bryce, we've reached some kind of... understanding, or rather, a truce."

"My lord means..." Bernard carefully chose his words, "You and Madam Catherine have accepted her?"

"What?" Bryce's eyes widened in disbelief.

Paul's face flushed slightly red. He picked up his teacup and took a big gulp, only to choke and start coughing.

"This... it's a long story..." he said with a muffled voice through his handkerchief, "In that extremely special environment... relationships between people can... undergo some changes..."

Phillip cleared his throat heavily, while the old butler pretended to adjust his cravat to hide a smile.

Bryce insisted, "My lord, she is an assassin, and she knows magic. You must be careful not to be deceived by her disguise!"

Paul couldn't help but laugh, deeply touched by Bryce's concern.

"Don't worry, the time in that space is not synchronized with the real world. The time I spent with her is far more than you imagine, enough for me to understand her thoroughly."

"In any case!" Paul suddenly raised his voice and stood up, nearly knocking over the inkwell on the desk, "I can guarantee one hundred percent that she is now on our side!"

After saying this, the young lord quickly walked to the window as if burned, pretending to be deeply interested in the oak tree in the courtyard. The sunlight through the window clearly illuminated his reddened ears and neck.

Secretary Bernard suddenly spoke up, "My lord, here is the summary report of the academic conference. I believe you'll find it interesting."

"Oh, I almost forgot."

Paul immediately turned around and took the conference summary from Bernard, densely packed with seven days of agenda. His fingertips lightly traced over the unfamiliar signatures of the attendees, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"It seems the discussion was quite lively..." He flipped to the page on Calculus proofs, filled with complex calculations and ink splatters from heated debates at the margins. This should have been a discussion he personally guided.

The secretary softly added, "The attendees all expressed regret at not being able to hear you personally explain the derivation process of the laws of motion."

Paul closed the document. The sunlight outside happened to illuminate the gold-embossed title on the back cover - "Proceedings of the First Alden Town Natural Science Academic Conference" - the glare making his eyes water.

An accident had caused him to miss this long-prepared grand event.

But... every loss has its gain. Paul's mood immediately brightened again.

(End of the Chapter)

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