How to upgrade your Potential (1)

Sitting at a finely set dining table, I watched as a line of maids moved around me, placing one exquisite dish after another with mechanical precision.

They didn't look at me directly. Not once.

But it was easy to see—their shoulders were stiff, their movements rigid, like delicate puppets afraid their strings would snap.

They're frightened… or at the very least cautious.

I let out a small sigh, picking up the silver fork.

Not exactly a pleasant feeling, but it's not my problem.

Their wariness wasn't aimed at me, after all—not really. It was a residue, a lingering effect from the brat I'd replaced. Mikael Thornevale.

As I took a bite of the lavish food—the kind I wouldn't have even been able to dream of affording before—I let my eyes roam around the room.

What I needed right now was someone competent. Someone who could get me the information, resources, and tools I needed to start preparing.

And then I saw him.

There. That's the one.

The butler.

Standing at attention near the door, he carried himself with the quiet dignity of someone who had been in service for decades.

"Yo… Mr. Butler, come here for a minute," I said casually.

The words came out sharper than I intended, carrying a trace of arrogance I hadn't meant to show.

The man's eyes widened slightly, his brows twitching in faint irritation. He hesitated, then raised a gloved hand to point at himself.

"Me… Young Master?"

"Yes, you," I said with a relaxed nod, leaning back in my chair. "Come here."

With silent, deliberate steps, he approached. His eyes locked on mine—steady, unflinching, unreadable.

There was no hesitation in his movements, no trace of fear or irritation. Just a calm composure that seemed to say: I've seen worse than you. I've endured storms that would crush you.

...Does he think I'm about to pull some ridiculous stunt? What's with that look?

"Yes, Sir. How may I assist you?"

His voice was low, level. He bowed slightly, never breaking eye contact.

"I need a bag with essential supplies, an E-Grade sword, and the newest VeloriaTech watch with a fully integrated map of the Eastern Empire," I said, keeping my tone flat but firm. "As fast as possible."

"Eh… yes, of course. Of course."

He nodded frantically, the mask of composure slipping for a moment. Bewilderment flashed across his face, but he didn't ask a single question. Instead, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

Huh… I expected at least a little resistance. Does he even understand what I'm asking for?

No time to dwell on it.

"I'll be in my room," I said curtly to one of the maids. "Tell him to bring it directly to me once it's ready."

She flinched slightly at my voice but nodded quickly.

With calm, measured steps, I left the dining hall, ignoring the subtle glares and irritated faces of the maids around me.

They can glare all they want. I don't have time to deal with them. Not now.

Tonight was too important.

This was the first step to ripping apart the chains on this body—this so-called "handicap of a potential."

If I failed to fix it now, survival in this dog-eat-dog world would remain nothing more than a dream.

No… not a dream. A death sentence.

---

While I was waiting for the supplies, I pulled a notebook from the desk near the bed in my room. Flipping it open, I skimmed through the pages. Nothing significant was written in it—just a list of names.

Names of people Mikael had grudges against over the last few years.

Quite childish, I thought. But hey, what can you expect?

Most of the entries weren't even worth a second glance, and I doubted any of these people had any impact on the storyline.

> Allen White stepped on my foot – Revenge needed.

Really? That's worth writing down?

A lot of them were like that. Some seemed slightly justified, but most were downright petty.

> Damien Luminar picked a fight with me and laughed at my talent – Revenge needed. High priority.

This world's high society… Even without nobles, these families of generational geniuses and guilds filled with rankers were insufferably arrogant.

Of course, power determined status here. On every continent, there was an Emperor—usually the strongest ranked individual alive in the region.

In the West Empire, where the novel's events mainly took place, it was Desmond Moor, the heir of the White Sun. He should already be an XS-Rank by now.

I couldn't even imagine what that level of power looked like. Truly fascinating…

There were still the emperors of the South, North, and East, but I barely knew anything about them. I skipped most of the lore chapters in the novel, dismissing them as filler.

Guess that's going to bite me later…

Knock knock.

A knock at the door snapped me out of my thoughts.

"Young Master, I've brought all the things you requested."

Nice timing.

I stood and opened the door. The butler stood there, his expression calm but his eyes slightly tired. He probably pulled a few strings to gather everything so quickly.

What a truly great guy. Thumbs up, man.

He silently handed me a sleek black ring and a high-tech watch. I stared at him for a moment.

"Ahem… the ring has a spatial inventory. It can store up to fifteen non-organic items, even food. The watch includes a full detailed map with descriptions and… fifteen thousand ru. If you require anything else, Sir…"

"Good job," I said, slipping the ring onto my left hand. "Now I need a driver. Take me to the nearest train station."

"YES! Of course, it will be ready immediately!"

This time the butler broke into a bright smile and even started running.

What's with him? Why's he so happy? Is he some kind of weirdo?

I didn't bother trying to figure out his intentions. I fastened the watch onto my right wrist, feeling the slight weight of luxury technology.

Alright… let's go.

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