Ch 28: A Game I Shouldn’t Enjoy

After the standard checks at the gate, we finally entered, and the change was breathtaking.

From the outside, the city looked like a fortress preparing for war. The pentagonal outer walls were massive, with tall watchtowers posted at each corner. Entry without being noticed? Impossible. But inside? It was a different world entirely.

The streets were paved. Stalls, restaurants, even a theater, bustled with life. It had all the trappings of modern civilization—just a little more expensive, and powered by mana crystals instead of electricity. I spotted equipment for sale that didn't even exist in our estate. Either they were outrageously priced... or the old man was stingy.

"Are you lost in thought again?"

Seraphine's sharp voice cut through my musings. She was glaring, of course.

I had a bad habit of narrating my life in my head like a story. Especially when the world insisted on acting like one.

"It's my first time in the city," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "I'm just surprised how developed it is compared to the Count's capital."

"Obviously. This is the Duke's capital—the main hub of the entire Eastern region."

"Hm."

We continued toward the teleportation port. I wanted to explore badly. But time wasn't on our side.

Or so I thought.

"The Duke has invited you for lunch," said a guard standing beside a polished carriage. He wore the Duke's crest—this wasn't a prank.

"...Are you sure it was we who were invited?" I asked, hoping he'd take the hint and laugh it off.

No such luck. The man simply nodded, stone-faced.

Dense. Single.

He gestured for us to board, clearly assuming Seraphine—being the Count's daughter—was the one in charge.

We exchanged a look. With no choice, we climbed in.

The carriage rolled through an arched iron gate flanked by obsidian statues—knights clad in flowing capes, swords buried in the ground like they were mourning something long lost.

Even the driveway felt... unnatural. Too clean. Too perfect. A winding path of black stone tiles lined with violet-flowered trees, each one trimmed to eerie symmetry. Not a single leaf dared fall out of place.

It reminded me of a noble's smile—calculated and beautiful, but dangerous underneath.

Slowly, the Duke's estate came into view.

But damn—calling it an estate felt like a crime. Compared to this, our manor was a horse stable dressed in delusions of grandeur.

This wasn't a manor. It was a stronghold wrapped in elegance. A fortress pretending to be a palace. Three wings of dark stone stretched outward from the central tower, its mana-glass windows shimmering faintly in the sunlight. Wealth dripped from every carved arch and polished spire, but it didn't warm the air.

It warned.

Guards in black and silver armor lined the entrance. Not decorative. Real soldiers. Scarred, trained, ready. The kind who knew how to kill and didn't need to prove it.

Seraphine sat straighter beside me. Of course she did. This was her world.

Me? The closer we got, the colder my spine felt.

I've seen places built to impress.

This one was built to intimidate.

The carriage came to a smooth stop before the front steps.

Two guards opened the doors before the driver could even dismount. Precise. Efficient. Trained.

I stepped out with Seraphine, who moved like this was routine. Just another Tuesday.

The grand doors creaked open, revealing a hall drenched in amber light. Mana-crystal chandeliers glowed above. Black marble floors stretched ahead, polished to a mirror sheen. A crimson carpet ran down the center, flanked by towering columns and suits of enchanted armor that watched us pass with empty eyes.

And at the end of the hall stood the Duke.

Duke Aldric Cindros.

He looked like a man who'd wrestled war into diplomacy. Broad shoulders. Silver-streaked black hair pulled back. A robe thrown over armor like an afterthought. He radiated command—quiet, effortless.

But he didn't sneer. Didn't scowl.

He smiled.

"Welcome to Emberhold," he said, voice like velvet wrapped around steel. "Baron Valemont's son... and Lady Seraphine."

Seraphine gave a courteous bow. I followed, raising an eyebrow just enough to hint that I wasn't sure if this was hospitality or a trap.

"Come," he said, gesturing. "Let's not waste time. I've prepared lunch. It's rare I host guests I'm interested in."

We followed him into a more private hall. Smaller, but no less refined. A long dining table stretched through the room, modestly set but still unmistakably noble. At the far end sat she.

The female lead of the original story.

Green hair, braided loosely over one shoulder. Emerald eyes that didn't blink so much as measure. Calm posture. Sharp gaze. A short blade rested at her hip, not decorative.

Celia Cindros. The Duke's daughter. Elric's destined partner in the original timeline. His moral compass. His storm.

And now, she was quietly watching me.

I pushed the thoughts down and sat beside Seraphine as the Duke poured his wine.

"I'll be blunt," he said once everyone was seated. "I asked to see you both because I believe this year's Academy intake will be… different. Unpredictable."

Understatement of the century.

"I'd prefer if you three stuck together," he continued. "Inside, alliances are everything. You'll need people who can watch your back."

I tilted my head slightly. "That's generous, Your Grace. But with all due respect… I'm just a Baron's son. In terms of status, I'm not exactly cut from the same cloth."

Seraphine stiffened beside me. Celia didn't react—still sipping her wine, expression unreadable.

But the Duke laughed. Not cruelly. Genuinely.

"That's exactly why I like you. You understand the game."

He leaned forward, fingers laced together.

"Listen carefully. Once you step into the Academy, your birth title becomes a footnote. Everyone is meat on the same table. If you can't prove your worth, no one will care what you were born as—and my daughter isn't a fool. She'll know what to do with dead weight."

Celia finally spoke, voice smooth and measured. "He doesn't look like dead weight."

My face remained unreadable, but something inside me smiled.

This was the kind of conversation where smiles carried blades. Where words had weight and everything unspoken mattered more.

I wasn't supposed to enjoy it. But I did.

That part of me—me-the one that didn't belong in this world—was already straightening his collar and pulling up a seat.

"I'll keep that in mind," I said politely, eyes flicking to Celia, then back to the Duke. "Hopefully, I won't embarrass your judgment too soon."

It was the kind of answer that sounded humble—until you listened too closely.

Celia tilted her head ever so slightly. The Duke smiled wider, like he'd heard more than I said.

And Seraphine? She just sipped her drink, possibly amused… or possibly reconsidering every life decision that had led her here.

Either way, the pieces were on the board.

The game had begun.

And I was already enjoying the weight of the blade at my neck.