Winter rain replaced snow by evening.
Water slid slowly down the palace windows while distant thunder rolled softly somewhere beyond the capital. The air felt colder tonight not sharp like snowfall, but heavy and damp.
Inside his chambers, the brazier burned steadily beside the wall, casting warm orange light across the room.
Rudura sat quietly near the low table with Échecs Humains open before him.
The pages had begun feeling strangely familiar now.
Not comfortable.
Just heavier with every chapter.
His eyes moved slowly across the next passage.
Reputation must be guarded constantly. Men judge appearances before truth.
The line lingered in his thoughts.
Then another followed beneath it.
Most people spend their lives protecting the image others hold of them.
Rudura rested one arm against the table silently.
At first glance, the sentence sounded exaggerated.
But the longer he thought about it
the more memories surfaced naturally.
Not from palace life.
From his previous world.
High school corridors.
Classrooms.
Lunch breaks.
Faces.
People constantly trying to appear like something.
Confident.
Unbothered.
Successful.
Popular.
Even when reality looked completely different underneath.
Rain tapped softly against the windows.
Rudura lowered his gaze back toward the page.
Men fear humiliation more deeply than failure itself.
That line immediately reminded him of someone.
Not famous.
Not particularly important.
Just another student.
The memory surfaced slowly.
There had been a mathematics test during his second year of high school.
A difficult one.
Almost everyone struggled afterward.
Yet when students gathered outside the classroom discussing answers, one boy laughed casually and said:
"That was easy."
Rudura remembered the moment clearly because everyone else reacted instantly.
Some looked impressed.
Others annoyed.
The boy continued smiling confidently while discussing questions loudly.
At the time, Rudura almost believed him too.
Until results came weeks later.
The boy failed badly.
Worse than most of the class.
The memory stayed vivid because of what happened afterward.
The boy acted exactly the same.
Still laughing.
Still pretending confidence.
Yet something changed subtly.
People stopped taking his words seriously.
And eventually rumors spread that he always exaggerated his marks.
Rudura remembered overhearing conversations afterward.
"He lies constantly."
"I knew he was pretending."
"He just wants attention."
Strange.
Before the failed test, people viewed his confidence positively.
Afterward, the same behavior became arrogance and dishonesty.
Again
reputation changed interpretation.
Rudura leaned slightly back.
The realization felt almost repetitive now.
Yet every memory strengthened it further.
Humans rarely judged behavior objectively.
Another memory surfaced quietly afterward.
A girl during group presentations.
Always composed.
Always smiling.
Teachers praised her confidence constantly.
But once, during an important presentation, she froze midway through speaking.
Complete silence.
Rudura still remembered how uncomfortable the classroom suddenly became.
The girl laughed nervously afterward and continued somehow, but the atmosphere had already changed.
Not cruelly.
Just differently.
After that incident, students started noticing every small mistake she made.
Whispers spread quietly:
"She gets nervous easily."
"Maybe she just memorizes everything."
"She only looks confident."
Before that moment, nobody questioned her composure.
One visible crack changed perception completely.
Rudura stared quietly into the brazier flames.
That was what disturbed him most about reputation.
How fragile it truly was.
Years of carefully built image could weaken through one moment of visible weakness.
And once weakened
people searched for more cracks instinctively.
The rain outside grew heavier.
Rudura looked down toward Échecs Humains again.
The world respects appearances. Few look beneath them.
The line felt cold.
But realistic.
People constantly performed versions of themselves socially.
Not always dishonestly.
Sometimes defensively.
That distinction mattered.
Rudura remembered students pretending not to care after receiving poor marks.
Others laughing after embarrassment.
Some acting confident despite obvious panic before presentations.
At the time, those behaviors seemed ordinary.
Now he saw them differently.
People protected image instinctively.
Because social perception affected treatment constantly.
Acceptance.
Respect.
Attention.
Even kindness changed depending on how others viewed you.
Another memory surfaced.
This one quieter.
A student sitting alone during lunch breaks after rumors spread about him online.
Nothing serious.
Mostly mocking jokes.
Still
the social shift happened frighteningly fast.
People stopped sitting beside him naturally.
Conversations shortened.
Laughter changed tone whenever he approached.
Nobody directly bullied him much.
They simply distanced themselves.
As though reputation itself became contagious.
Rudura frowned slightly.
That memory had always bothered him.
Especially because most students barely knew whether the rumors were true.
Truth mattered less than social perception once enough people accepted the image.
The brazier cracked softly nearby.
Rudura lowered his eyes again.
Men often defend reputation more desperately than honesty.
Another uncomfortable sentence.
Yet memory after memory continued supporting it.
Students lied about marks.
Pretended confidence.
Hid fear.
Exaggerated achievements.
Not always maliciously.
Mostly because humans feared judgment naturally.
Rudura slowly exhaled.
That realization made the chapter feel less cynical than before.
Échecs Humains wasn't claiming humans were evil.
Only vulnerable.
People feared becoming seen differently.
And because of that fear
they wore masks constantly.
The thought lingered quietly in his mind.
Outside, rainwater continued sliding down the palace windows while distant thunder echoed faintly through the night sky.
Rudura rested one hand lightly against the side of his face.
Then another memory surfaced unexpectedly.
Sports day.
One student injured himself badly during a race.
Not seriously enough for hospitalization.
Still painful.
Rudura remembered how the boy immediately stood up smiling despite clearly limping.
Laughing.
Pretending it didn't hurt.
Only later, away from crowds, did the boy finally admit pain openly.
At the time, Rudura barely thought about it.
Now he understood.
The boy protected image instinctively.
Strength.
Composure.
Dignity.
Humans often concealed weakness automatically around others.
Not because they enjoyed deception.
Because visible weakness changed treatment.
That realization connected sharply with palace life too.
Nobles maintained elegant composure constantly.
Officials concealed uncertainty.
Servants apologized excessively to avoid appearing incompetent.
Different worlds.
Same psychology.
Rudura closed his eyes briefly.
Then remembered another thing from his previous life.
Social media.
Carefully chosen photographs.
Edited happiness.
Public confidence.
People displayed polished versions of themselves constantly.
Even students his age already understood image management instinctively.
The thought almost amused him faintly.
Entire societies revolved around perception far more than most admitted.
The rain outside softened gradually.
Inside the room, silence returned except for the brazier's steady crackling.
Rudura reopened his eyes and continued reading.
Protect your image carefully, for once others begin seeing weakness, they rarely stop searching for it.
That line lingered heavily.
Because now he understood why reputation mattered so much.
Not because appearances replaced truth completely.
Because humans interpreted truth through appearance first.
The distinction mattered.
A respected person received patience.
An admired person received forgiveness.
A disgraced person received suspicion.
Even identical actions changed meaning depending on reputation.
Rudura slowly closed the book against the table.
Thump.
The room fell quiet again.
For several moments, he simply listened to the rain.
Then another realization surfaced quietly.
Perhaps most people weren't consciously manipulative at all.
Perhaps they simply feared isolation.
Humiliation.
Loss of respect.
Humans wanted acceptance naturally.
And reputation determined acceptance socially.
That made the masks people wore feel strangely understandable.
Even sympathetic sometimes.
The boy pretending confidence after failure.
The girl laughing through embarrassment.
The injured student hiding pain.
None of them wanted to become viewed differently.
Rudura leaned back slightly.
Then finally looked toward the rain-covered window beside him.
In both lives
people constantly protected invisible images surrounding themselves.
Some carefully.
Some desperately.
And most probably didn't even realize how much of their behavior revolved around preserving perception.
The thought stayed with him quietly.
The brazier crackled softly beside the wall while rain continued falling beyond the palace windows.
Eventually, Rudura lowered his gaze toward the closed book again.
Then softly muttered into the quiet room:
"…People hide weakness because they fear becoming someone else in others' eyes."
(Continued in Chapter 75)