You're Cruel!

After arranging all our belongings in the spacious room on the eastern wing of Wenren Residence, we headed to the dining hall. A meal for newly arrived guests had already been prepared. No one else was there. I could see red pillars holding up the tiered roof, gray stone floors, and ink-painted landscapes on the walls. We faced a large doorway that opened to the courtyard.

"Damn, it smells amazing!" Vashtun blurted out, his tone cheerful. He quickly cleared his throat and lowered his voice again. "I mean, yes, it really smells good and looks inviting."

"Vasht, are you alright?" I asked.

I looked ahead. I was now sitting on a chair made of dark wood, with intricate carvings typical of ancient Chinese architecture. The dishes on the table left me stunned: Dan Dan Mian, several types of fried rice, and cuts of meat cooked with spicy seasoning, reminding me of Hunan-style dishes from my old world. All of it was served on a massive wooden table with dragon-carved legs. I wondered why Duke Wenren was so obsessed with things like this.

"What's this?" Vashtun asked beside me. He was holding a pair of silver chopsticks, looking confused.

"Those are chopsticks," I said. "You use them like this."

I showed Vashtun how to hold them properly. "First, rest the lower chopstick on the base of your thumb and against your ring finger, keep it still. Then hold the upper chopstick like a pencil using your thumb, index, and middle fingers to move it. Make sure the tips of both sticks stay aligned so you can pick up food easily."

I demonstrated by lifting a piece of meat from the steaming platter, then watched as Vashtun tried, and failed.

"Try again," I told him.

He tried several more times, at least five, before he finally got it.

"Damn, can you just do anything?" Vashtun asked, clearly impressed. "If I may ask, how do you even know how to use something called 'chopsticks'? Isn't this a Zhonghua Empire thing?"

"Something like that. I'm from a continent far away where the culture isn't too different from Zhonghua. Easier to explain it that way," I said in a tone meant to sound convincing.

We both started eating. The spiciness of the Dan Dan Mian and the savory fried rice felt like a luxury I hadn't tasted in a long time. Once we finished, we decided to head to the training grounds, just to take a look.

The Wenren Estate's training grounds were a massive open arena, almost the size of the Colosseum in Rome, but surrounded by oriental-style pavilions. Dozens of people were training, the clashing of weapons and their shouts filling the air.

Clang!

A longsword struck against a spear, sparks flying.

"You know who that is?" I asked Vashtun, pointing at a silver-haired woman whose movements were as fluid as a dancer, her sword moving as if it were part of her arm.

"If I'm not mistaken, she's a descendant of Marquess Maximilian. They say she's the youngest, but reports are inconsistent. Some say she's the eldest, others say she's the middle of five siblings. I'm not sure which is true," Vashtun replied.

"Yeah, I get that she's a noble. I mean, her name."

"Be clear, you're being vague. Her name is Marcelline Auretta von Maximilian," he said. "Why? Are you interested? Don't you already have Irene, who's far prettier?"

"That's not it. I'm just wary of any variable I can't account for in this game, you know, like—"

Vashtun slapped my shoulder. "Welt, not everything needs to fit into your intuition and plans. Please, don't be selfish. I know you never stray from your path and you persevere, but for once, don't be selfish. Not at a time like this."

"I know. That's exactly why I get thrown off when making plans. In chess, the possibilities are so vast. No two people ever play the same. I'm just trying to understand the patterns that might show up, not all of them," I explained.

"I get it. But still, don't be selfish. Not when your world still holds to some kind of morality and isn't filled with bastards hiding behind 'heaven' excuses to do vile things. Don't become one of them in the name of perseverance."

I stayed silent, reflecting on his words. He was right. My obsession with control sometimes blinded me to other possibilities. I turned my head, catching sight of something that annoyed me.

A boy, maybe fifteen, wearing expensive silk, was slapping an old servant.

"You dirtied my clothes, bastard!" the boy yelled.

"I'm so sorry, young master. I didn't mean to spill it, I just—"

"How dare you talk back to me? You've already dirtied my clothes, so your life is worthless!" The boy raised his hand, a small ball of fire forming in his palm.

"Let's go, Vashtun. Let the authorities handle it," I said, turning away. I had no time or desire to get involved in another noble brat's tantrum.

As we walked off, I asked Vashtun something else. "Vashtun, ever heard of the 'Otherworlders Explorer Association'?"

"Are you reading too much fiction or something? I've never seen or even heard of anything like that in my life, not even in recorded history," he replied.

I thought back to my experience in the Nine Churches. Was it really just an illusion? "I saw a building with a name like that in Nine Churches. Do you know the city?"

"It's a pretty busy city," he said. "But I've never heard anything about the association you're talking about. What I do know is that the city's dangerous at night because a lot of Illusionists from the Phantasmist Channel operate there. Maybe you were one of their victims."

Really? I was tricked by an illusion? Didn't sound convincing. But if true, that was insane.

We continued wandering around Wenren Estate, which was estimated to span about 345 hectares. We didn't explore it all, of course. We just stuck to the main grounds.

We passed a large artificial lake. In the middle, there was a small island with a lone weeping willow. A few people were meditating beneath it, sitting cross-legged. I'd heard of this kind of ritual being called wu wei? Or something like that?

"They're followers of 'The Tranquility Path,'" Vashtun said. "They believe true power doesn't come from fighting or wealth, but from inner peace and meditation. They're one of the ten recognized religions in the kingdom."

"Recognized religions?" I asked.

"Yeah. The Eastern Cledestine Kingdom doesn't have a single state religion. They recognize ten major faiths to keep stability. The most dominant is the Church of the Primary Mother, which worships the Goddess of Creation, Callista. They control most of the fertile central regions, about seventy percent of the kingdom's land is fertile."

"Then there's the Earth Church, like the one you saw in Clockthon. And the Church of Slid for sailors. Each has its own territory and patron deity. It's a complex system, designed to keep any one religious power from becoming too dominant."

While we talked, we arrived at another training field. Here, there were no weapons at all. Only a few people stood still, eyes closed. Suddenly, one of them raised their hand, and a large boulder nearby lifted into the air, then crumbled into dust.

"Psionists," Vashtun muttered. "Channel of the Mind's Eye. Extremely rare, and obviously, very dangerous."

We kept walking, heading back toward the guest wing. Afternoon slowly turned to dusk. The sky above the mountains was painted in shades of orange, pink, and purple.

"After all this, Vashtun," I said suddenly. "After The Sovereign's Gambit, after the problems with House Droct and Barthalzan… say it all ends. What will you do?"

He went quiet for a moment, staring at the sunset. "I don't know, not like the old you," he said honestly. "For the past ten years, my only goal has been surviving the underworld. Building a network, making money, making sure no one can step on me again. Whatever fate decides, I'll just go along with it, even though I don't see fate as a chain."

"What about you, Welt?" he asked. "What's your ultimate goal? To become the strongest noble? The richest? Or something else?"

I thought about my dream. About Cheon Donghwan. About the hatred that once consumed me. "Me? Hmm, how do I even say this… basically, I just want to create a world where no ten-year-old boy has to cling to his father's leg, begging not to be abandoned, no, I mean, a world where I'm the ultimate villain," I said, my voice lower than usual, ending with a forced chuckle.

It was the most honest thing I'd said in a long time, a confession that slipped out unfiltered.

Vashtun looked at me.

"A noble goal," he said softly. "But also the most impossible. You're not crazy enough to go against the Great Churches, I know that. Still, as much as I can, I'll back you."

"I know," I replied. "And… thanks, if you still want to help me."

We returned to our room in silence. That night, I sat alone on the balcony, staring at the countless stars scattered across the clear sky, so many constellations looking familiar to Earth's, and I thought.

Could regressors really exist in this world? But judging by Duke Liangshen's habits, he could easily be someone from China before it became a republic, or just someone obsessed with Imperial Chinese architecture.

What mattered now was figuring out Wenren's family tree. If I could pinpoint one crucial connection, maybe, just maybe, I'd find another person from Earth besides me, because clearly, for some reason, their names were all Chinese.

"Welt, what are you doing?" Vashtun asked from behind me.

"Just taking in the view. Did you enjoy your dinner earlier?" I asked, making small talk.

"Yeah, of course. I didn't know food like that existed, it was really good. Honestly, the best thing I've had besides your own recommendations," he said, sounding genuinely pleased.

"In that case, how about we train tomorrow? In return, I'll make a special request to the chef to cook something even better for you, if possible. Deal?" I asked.

"Of course," Vashtun said. "I'll do my best, but aren't you unable to use any power besides Motley Fool? I'm not sure we can even fight like that."

"That's why I plan to fight using strategy. If I go full brute force, I'll definitely lose soon after, you know this ability is emotion-based."

"Makes sense, but I'll still get crushed by you. So what's the point?" he asked.

"To sharpen your mind, idiot. I don't want my only 'business partner' to have a sharp brain only for managing money. You get what I mean."

He suddenly burst out laughing and, as usual, patted my shoulder repeatedly. "You're cruel, 'Mr. Rothes'! Never thought I'd end up with a boss as wicked as you!"