"Is there something on my face?" I asked, blinking at Sylvia.
She'd been staring at me like I had a third eye or a particularly offensive mustache. The second I spoke, she snapped her head away, like she'd just realized fire was hot.
"It's nothing, Lord Hugo," she said, voice a bit too quick, a bit too high.
Uh-huh. Definitely something.
I tilted my head and glanced over my shoulder, just to check. Behind me, the clear water of the garden's fountain rippled gently, catching the soft glow of dusk. I leaned in and looked.
...Who the fuck is that guy?
Oh. That's me.
Huh.
Crimson eyes gleamed in the low light, unnaturally so, like some forbidden protagonist who only comes out after 6 PM.
My hair, which I'd inherited from Mother, swayed gently with the breeze. It had that warm, almost golden hue that painters try too hard to recreate on canvas and still end up giving up halfway. My features, refined and cut sharp, were doing things I didn't sign up for.
Damn. Natural light's doing this face some favors.
No wonder Sylvia looked like I just declared war on her sense of modesty.
I cleared my throat and turned away from my own dazzling reflection, casually observing the adventurers making their way toward the guild building. Dusty, loud, sweaty people. They dragged sacks of proof, fangs, claws, a weird amount of tails, toward the receptionist counter like tax season had come early.
Efficient.
I turned to Sylvia. "Lady Sylvia, do mana beasts in the dungeon drop any items when they are killed?"
She looked at me like I'd just asked if trees could talk. "Drop… items? When they are dead? How do they drop?"
"You know," I said, gesturing vaguely with a hand. "When a beast is slain, does an item appear at or near its corpse? Something useful. Gear, perhaps. Crystals? Magic orbs? Glowing loot boxes?"
Her brows furrowed further. I think I just spoke a language not yet discovered.
"No, Lord Hugo," she said at last, polite confusion painted all over her face. "Mana cannot be materialized without circulation. And even with that, only elves possess such precision as to shape mana into tangible objects, ice blades, elemental crystals, earth spears… but nothing spontaneously appears. That's impossible."
...Games lied to me.
No shiny chest with glowing runes. No swords dropped from lizards. No experience bar blinking at the corner of my vision.
Just blood. Claws. Maybe rabies.
I sighed inwardly and accepted reality like the mature adult I am.
Then Sylvia turned slightly toward me again, voice softer, eyes uncertain. "Lord Hugo… do you think I did well at Sir Eldrin's mansion? You know… during my presentation?"
Her gaze flicked away. "I wanted to ask you then, but things became complicated soon after."
Oh.
She actually cared about that?
She must've come to find me that night to talk about this, huh?
Too bad I was, you know… busy dying.
Poisoned to death. Not my best evening.
Still, she stood there now, looking all composed and graceful, but her fingers were fidgeting ever so slightly. That tiny twitch of her glove said more than any ten-minute speech ever could.
I gave her a faint smile.
"Oh, you did great, Lady Sylvia," I said. "I half expected you to fumble a little on the finer details, considering it was your first official presentation… but you were flawless. Calm. Precise. Carried yourself like you'd done it a dozen times before."
Her eyes widened a little.
"Too bad Sir Eldrin came predetermined to reject our deal," I added, letting a bit of honest frustration slip into my tone.
She hesitated, then asked quietly, "So… you don't think it's my fault?"
She glanced down at her hands, voice barely audible. "I… I was sure I fumbled on the supply metrics. And when he started asking those hypothetical questions..I thought I lacked flexibility. I wasn't able to respond fast enough."
Hmm.
She really had been overthinking it.
"Well," I said, tilting my head thoughtfully, "those questions were designed to make you fumble. He already had his answer in mind. What he wanted was a moment to pin it on you, to say the deal fell apart because we weren't ready."
I paused, then added with a smirk, "But you didn't give him that opening."
She blinked. Then looked at me again, curious.
"Sure," I continued, "there were better answers you could've given. For example...remember when he asked: 'What would your duchy do if Griffon Vale's supply caravans were delayed due to unrest at the border?' And you said...what was it?"
"I said," Sylvia began, her tone careful, "'we would activate contingency stockpiles for essential resources and reach out to secondary suppliers to minimize disruption.'"
"Right," I nodded. "Not bad. Honestly, that's a solid response. Though you allowed him a follow-up, 'secondary supplies are always short-handed, surely, you don't want us to suffer from your disputes'. And now you had to find another hypothetical solution."
She straightened a little.
"But," I added, raising a finger, "imagine if you'd said instead: 'We already calculated that possibility. Our contracts include delay clauses with penalties to incentivize punctuality. In the worst-case scenario, Falcon Duchy has a standing pact with the Twin River Syndicate for emergency supply runs within two days.'"
Sylvia's brows shot up. "That would've completely cut his follow-up."
"Exactly," I said, giving her a subtle grin. "No room left to poke. No weakness to exploit."
"Besides, Sir Eldrin went overboard with his mind games. He kept bringing up Griffinvale to undermine Falcon, but mentioning treaties or syndicates like the Twin River Syndicate between the two duchies would've actually prevented him from poking further at the rivalry between Falcon and Griffinvale."
Sylvia nodded, looking a bit overwhelmed.
"Then again," I said gently, "it was your first time, and you did far better than I did during my own first presentation."
She blinked, clearly surprised. "Lord Hugo… your first time? Now I'm curious... how did it go?"
Ah. Crap.
Why did I say that?
My first "presentation," if you could even call it that, was a legendary disaster. I remember trying to explain investment structures to one of Father's partners using… gods help me… a puppet show.
I genuinely thought it would be clever. One puppet was named Coinie. The other was Debtie. Coinie took a loan. Debtie fell off the table.
It was not well received.
Coinie was later burned in a fireplace. Justice was served.
My old man, Edward, told me, "There's a whole spectrum of ways to fail, and you managed to pick this one."
To this day, I'm not sure if that was supposed to be a compliment. Probably not.
Then again, it's kind of his fault too. He'd always say things like, "Watch and learn," or "Experience is the best teacher," and then proceed to not teach me a damn thing.
Still… I miss him a bit.
Or maybe… a bit more than just a bit
Still, Hugo was supposed to be some lazy lord, not a man with a shadowy past involving sock puppets and shaky business metaphors.
So, I went with the safer version.
"It was… rather embarrassing," I said, clearing my throat. "Let's just say I didn't attend another negotiation until this one with Sir Eldrin."
Sylvia pouted.
"Here I thought we weren't going to keep secrets," she said, tone light and teasing. But her eyes, shimmering gold in the dusk light, looked at me a little differently.
Trust me, Sylvia, you really don't want to hear me say, "Well, I'm not from this world, actually."
I just shrugged and said, "That's not a secret, though..."
She kept that same expression, that not-quite-smile, and said, "You know, Lord Hugo… I can't believe we're the same age."
Maybe because we're not?
She went on, "It feels like I'm speaking to someone much more experienced."
That's because I'm twenty-eight and spiritually retired.
Still, I managed a small, polite smile. "Lady Sylvia, you don't seem seventeen yourself. I've never seen someone your age handle administration with such skill and composure."
She tilted her head slightly, considering that. "Hmm… is that so?"
Then she looked up at the sky and began gently swinging her legs back and forth like a girl half her age, smiling softly.
Something happened to this girl today…
Maybe she's allergic to elves?
A group of children in matching dark green uniforms passed by on the footpath nearby, chatting loudly and waving wooden practice swords around. Sylvia turned to me, curious.
"Lord Hugo… is that the uniform of the Academy?"
"Not the Academy," I said, following her gaze. "That's from a local school."
"School?" she asked, sounding almost suspicious of the word.
"Yes. Elves go to school until graduation. Only after completing a recognized curriculum from a registered institution are they allowed to apply to the Academy."
"Hm… the system is a bit different here," she mused, tapping a finger on her chin.
"Oh, now that you mention it," I said, "this month marks the start of interschool competitions. It's when the schools try to outshine each other by showcasing their top talents."
"Competitions?" she perked up. "Do they spar their best students?"
"That's one of the rounds," I nodded. "There are five rounds total, each with a different theme."
She leaned closer. "Lord Hugo… are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"Yes," I said with a knowing smile. "It's the perfect opportunity to advertise our shops."
Her face lit up like a lantern. "Yes! Let's open stalls during the competition," she said with sudden, almost childish excitement.
I smiled back, but in my head—
I've got… slightly different plans for that competition.
Before I could elaborate or give myself away, Clara appeared beside us like she always does: silently, efficiently, and probably having overheard the last twelve sentences.
"I've submitted the details," she said, bowing slightly. "We've been given the map and the Adventurer Card for the team. As long as we carry it, we'll be permitted entry into any dungeon under guild management."
Sylvia looked intrigued. "Are there dungeons not managed by the guild?"
Clara nodded, but hesitated. "I don't know much, but… I think there are some controlled by other powerful organizations. The guild doesn't own everything."
Sylvia turned to me, her eyes gleaming with purpose. "Then, Lord Hugo… as soon as we're ready tomorrow, let's head to the dungeon."
She looked… thrilled.
Genuinely thrilled.
It was odd. She usually wore her calm like armor. This was different.
Strange… she never shows emotion this openly.
Something felt off...in a good way, but still.
I opened her Inspect window.
And—
Holy shit.
Favourability: 56%
It was in 20s three months ago.
That's… that's more than double.
Okay. This might actually be a problem.