Chapter 10: The Unseen Truth

Lynne nearly choked on her own frustration, but she forced a trembling whisper: "W-what do you plan to do with me?" Her doe-eyed gaze shimmered with practiced vulnerability.

Bennett's lips quirked. His eyes swept over her half-clad form, not with hunger, but clinical amusement. A shadow—a bedsheet—fluttered over her, burying her seductive display beneath plain linen.

"I work better without distractions," he said mildly, already turning back to the armor. "Your performance needs refinement. If you insist on seduction, brainstorm better tactics while I'm busy."

Lynne's confidence shattered. *This isn't a boy. This is… what? A jaded noble? A demon in child's skin?*

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**Part 2**

Bennett settled into a chair, magnifying glass in hand. He traced the armor's engraved patterns with scholarly focus, sketching notes between pauses for contemplation.

Lynne watched, equal parts baffled and intrigued. His pale, delicate features clashed with the razor-sharp authority in his voice—a paradox wrapped in velvet.

"Your gear fascinates me." He didn't glance up. "This armor's enchantments boost strength and agility, but its true value lies here—" His finger tapped a faded crest. "A Stuttgart lineage mark. Northern nobles, fragmented centuries ago. You acquired this from some… *generous* northern lord, yes?"

Lynne's breath hitched.

"The scimitar?" He smirked. "A mismatch. Your wrist lacks the power for proper curved-blade techniques—you're a swordsman, not a tribeswoman. That crystal beneath its hilt stores for wind blades… wasted on your current skill."

Her nails dug into her palms. *How does he know?*

The armor *had* come from that lust-blinded baron. The blade, from a northwestern mercenary captain who'd promised conquests… and delivered only hot air.

Bennett finally met her stare. "Anything to add, *Captain*?"

**Chapter 10: The Unseen Truth (Part 2)**

Bennett rubbed his temples, eyeing Lynne. "But what truly fascinates me… is your **anti-magic bow**."

He placed the silver bow on the table, fingers tracing its engraved patterns. "Vertical slashes with lunar motifs—heraldry for the Moon's power. According to historical texts, this symbolizes the **Moon Clan**, an ancient dynasty that once ruled half the continent seven centuries ago. Devotees of the Moon Goddess, extinguished during the wars preceding the Gideon Empire's unification. Their bloodline… *purportedly* vanished."

His tone turned sly. "Odd. A third-rate adventurer with mediocre skills, yet armed with relics from the north, the northwest, *and* a dead kingdom. Who *are* you, really?"

Had Bennett's mentor, the erudite scholar Roxiart, been present, he'd have swelled with pride—and outrage that such a mind was ever branded a "fool." For Bennett's effortless analysis spanned heraldry, history, and arcane symbolism, all recited without hesitation.

Lynne sat stunned.

"H-How… do you know all this?" she stammered.

"Books." Bennett smiled. "They hold humanity's collective wisdom. And I've been reading since I was six."

"Six?" Lynne breathed. "You're a genius. How many have you read?"

"Enough." His smile faded. "But genius? No. Once, I despised knowledge."

"Then why—" She caught herself. *Why am I indulging him?*

Bennett answered anyway, voice soft. "A parable: A clumsy outsider shatters a porcelain masterpiece in a shop. Guilt-ridden, he vows to craft a new one. *Compensation*, you see."

"Compensation?" Lynne frowned.

"You're more curious about my past than your fate." Bennett tilted his head. "If I were you, I'd focus on survival."

"Yet you keep talking."

"Well." He shrugged. "You're beautiful, with lovely legs. Men tend to ramble around pretty women. A… *flaw* of our species."

Lynne gritted her teeth, feeling utterly outmatched. This boy wielded words like blades, dissecting her with a glance.

"What do you want from me?" Defeat seeped into her voice.

Bennett leaned closer, fingers grazing her cheek. "You tried seduction earlier. Why not resume?"

His touch trailed down her neck, slipping beneath the bedsheet to rest on her shoulder—deliberate, calculated, devoid of urgency.

**Chapter 10: The Unseen Truth (Part 3)**

Bennett's touch was a tease—like a cat toying with a cornered mouse.

Lynne trembled, eyes shut, a soft whimper escaping her lips. Then, suddenly, the bedsheet vanished. She braced for the worst…

*Snap.*

The bull-tendon cords binding her wrists fell away. Bennett stepped back, a gleaming dagger in hand. "You're free to leave. Your companions too—except the mage."

Lynne blinked. "You're… letting me go?"

"Correct." Bennett waved dismissively. "I've studied your weapons. Take them. I've no further use for them."

"But why attack us in the tavern?"

"I wanted the mage, not you." He yawned. "Now, *leave*. I prefer solitude when I sleep."

At the door, Lynne hesitated, still dazed.

"One last tip," Bennett called. "Find a quiet village. Marry some dull noble. Or cling to a stronger tree. The world's unkind to lone vines… *Moon Clan* remnants especially."

Lynne froze. "M-Moon Clan?"

"Your fingers. The bone at your nape. The bow's lunar crest." His smile chilled. "Deny it all you like—but blood doesn't lie."

For the first time, Lynne felt truly powerless. This boy saw *everything*.

His grin sharpened. *Like a demon.*

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**Part 4**

Alone again, Bennett sighed and began organizing his books.

His loyal servant Madd crept in, concern etched on his face. "Master… shall I fetch supper?"

Bennett chuckled. Madd had likely hovered outside, checking for "disturbances" after Lynne's exit. "How much remains in my private coffers?"

"A thousand gold, my lord! Saved per your mother's orders!"

"Purchase water-orchid gems in Kott Province. Send them to her."

Madd beamed. "She'll be overjoyed! Though… forgive me, why let others think you a fool? If the Count knew your brilliance—"

"Why play the idiot?" Bennett finished. "Because fools go unnoticed. And unnoticed men… *act freely*."

**Chapter 10: The Unseen Truth (Final Part)**

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Madd bowed his head, frustration simmering beneath his loyalty. "Young Master Gabriel is hailed as a genius, yet you… If only they knew! I've seen you teach him to write! That so-called 'tutor' of his is a fraud compared to—"

"Enough, Madd." Bennett waved him off gently. "We ride at dawn."

Alone again, Bennett slumped into a chair, weariness carving lines into his youthful face.

*An idiot?*

Perhaps. But this world wasn't his to claim.

The truth gnawed at him: He'd stolen this body. Stolen a son from the kind-hearted Countess who adored him, from the stern Earl who'd never truly seen him. His only redemption? Crafting them a *new* heir—Gabriel, the "genius" brother whose every triumph Bennett had orchestrated in shadows.

*How many nights did I sneak into his room?* He chuckled bitterly. *Turning combat drills into nursery rhymes. Rewriting history as bedtime tales.*

When Gabriel, at four, had proudly scrawled his name, the Earl rejoiced, oblivious to the hours Bennett spent guiding his brother's tiny hand. When the boy recited battle tactics like poetry, none suspected the "fool" behind the curtain.

*I stole their son. So I gave them a prodigy.*

Now, exiled to the provinces, Bennett felt no regret. Let Gabriel bask in the spotlight. Let the Fords cherish their golden child.

As for himself?

He traced the spine of a worn history book. *This borrowed life… I've repaid my debt.*

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**Epilogue**

Far in the capital, a boy of seven knelt at his desk, pen scratching furiously. Gabriel Ford's brow furrowed as he hummed a tune—a melody his brother had once whispered to him.

Unseen, unnoticed, Bennett's legacy lived on.