On the verge of ruins

A young man lay sprawled on the grass beneath the shade of a towering tree. A twig rested lazily between his lips, shifting slightly as he chewed on it absentmindedly. His round belly rose and fell with each breath, a testament to years of indulgence.

Arlo Valemont, first son of House Valemont, had spent his entire life enjoying the privileges of a second-class noble. His family's rank placed them just beneath the esteemed first-class nobles, granting them wealth, influence, and a life of leisure. And boy, had he made full use of it. 

Until everything came crashing down.

His father, a man known for his temper, had dared to stand against a first-class noble—a powerful man who had taken an interest in Arlo's mother. The confrontation escalated, rash decisions were made, and soon, the Valemonts found themselves at the center of a scandal they couldn't escape.

Trumped-up charges. Stripped privileges. Properties seized.

Their family was on the verge of ruin.

Arlo sighed heavily. "Why now, of all times? When I'm in the prime of my youth?" He rolled the twig between his teeth. "Sure, I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of... Okay, maybe I'm proud of a few. But still, do I really deserve this?"

The thought of losing everything sent a shiver down his spine. He had spent years enjoying the comforts of nobility—ordering people around, indulging in luxuries, and looking down on those beneath him. And now, those same people were laughing behind his back.

Even the nobles his family had once supported had abandoned them without hesitation.

The world was truly unfair.

Most of their household staff had already fled, seeking better opportunities elsewhere. Only a handful remained—the truly loyal ones. Arlo found their devotion admirable, if not a little foolish. He respected them, though he doubted that would mean much if they all ended up penniless.

And what could he do? He wasn't some prodigy. No one expected anything from him.

In the kingdom's hierarchy, the royal family held the highest authority—at least in theory. In practice, the king remained distant, leaving governance in the hands of the first-class nobles, who ruled the major cities with unchecked power. Second-class nobles, like the Valemonts, managed smaller regions within those cities, but they were ultimately beneath the first class.

And when the ones above you decided to crush you, there was little you could do.

Arlo closed his eyes, enjoying the gentle breeze. At least here, under the tree, he could pretend the world wasn't falling apart around him.

Unfortunately, peace never lasted.

"Oh! There he is!"

Arlo groaned at the familiar voice. Lazily propping himself up on one elbow, he spotted three figures approaching with wide grins—too wide. They looked like they had just won the lottery.

"Great. Perfect timing," he muttered, rubbing his temples. "Can't a man wallow in misery in peace?"

The three young men stopped in front of him, their smiles now replaced with sour frowns. His face alone was enough to kill their mood.

"What's up, buddies?" Arlo greeted, forcing a smile.

Their scowls deepened.

"What did you just call us?"

"Come on, guys. You have to stop living in the past," Arlo said with an exaggerated sigh, adopting the expression of a benevolent saint. "We need to embrace our present selves."

They had come here to get revenge, but somehow, he was the one lecturing them.

Clevius, the tallest of the trio and the son of another second-class noble, grabbed Arlo by the collar. "So you're saying that three weeks ago is just in the past? Don't give me that shit!"

Arlo opened his mouth to respond—

—and took a punch straight to the face.

The impact sent him reeling. He blinked, stunned.

To think the day would come when these guys had the nerve to hit him.

'I've really fallen low.'

"You're still a noble—for now," Clevius muttered, shaking out his fist. "So we'll settle for this much. But in a week? Oh, I can't wait to see what happens then."

The boy beside him, grinning maliciously, added, "Don't worry. If you need help, I'd be willing to take in your sister."

Arlo's carefree expression vanished instantly. His gaze turned sharp, cold.

"What did you just say?"

The boy flinched, taking a half-step back. Clevius, however, only smirked.

"Is that it?" he mocked. "Let's go, boys."

With that, the three turned and left, their laughter echoing behind them.

Arlo wiped the blood from his lip, then lay back down with a sigh.

'Is there really no way out of this?'

His family had already lost too much. His father was powerless against their enemies, and no one would come to their aid. If the royal family was more into kingdom affairs there would've been a chance to take it up to them. But things were just how they were.

For the first time in his life, he felt truly helpless.

The wind rustled through the leaves. His eyelids grew heavy. Sleep threatened to pull him under when—

[Your wishes have been heard and granted]

A laugh bubbled up in his throat. 'Ha! Now that's funny—'

Then his eyes snapped open.

A glowing screen hovered in the air before him.