"I'm sorry but this is the best room I can arrange for now…"
Alicia's apology lingered in the air longer than it should have.
Baston stepped inside the guesthouse chamber and let his gaze wander.
The furniture was simple with polished wood, clean curtains, a modest bed, and a writing desk near the window. No golden carvings, no expensive mana lamps, and no ancestral portraits staring down from gilded frames.
To him, it was more than acceptable.
To a noble household, it was a message.
He understood it immediately.
The main residence stood deeper within the estate grounds, guarded by layers of wind wards and subtle enchantments.
Guests who stayed there were acknowledged, recognized, and weighed.
He had not been weighed highly enough.
Alicia tried to maintain a calm expression but he could sense her dissatisfaction.
In noble society, treatment was language.
Placement was hierarchy and a guesthouse room meant neutrality. It was neither insult nor acceptance.
He could stay but he was not one of them.
Baston did not mind. In fact, he preferred it.
The less attention he drew, the better. Yet, Alicia seemed to feel responsible.
She quickly shifted the topic and began explaining her plan about visiting the family library.
Her father had not granted permission yet, but she believed there might be records inside that could help him.
"Help me?" Baston asked.
She nodded seriously, "The cult… The dark potion… You didn't know about it before, right? Noble archives contain restricted documents. Inside, you can look for ritual studies, forbidden alchemy, and historical cases. If we understand more, you won't face such danger blindly again."
He fell silent because she was correct.
When the old book issued that quest involving the dark potion, he had been ignorant. He was completely unprepared.
If he had known more, perhaps the outcome might have unfolded differently. Perhaps, he could strive for better ending.
The word echoed with quiet accusation.
Baston lowered himself onto the bed after Alicia left.
The mattress was firm and the sheets were crisp. He closed his eyes, replaying her words.
She thought he needed knowledge to fight the cult. She did not know he needed knowledge to survive something else entirely because the true judge in his life was not a cult.
It was the old book.
*****
Elsewhere in the estate, another pair of eyes studied him.
Alicia's father sat behind a long desk carved from dark wood.
Several documents lay spread before him and reports delivered through discreet channels.
Nobles did not rely on rumors since they commissioned truths.
"The name is Baston," he murmured, "Student of Prius Academy. Poor class status, recently awakened with ice element, and exceptional control beyond junior standards."
He tapped the parchment thoughtfully, "There is also rumor of fallen nobility. However, it was still unverified."
The fact and the rumor were interesting.
His daughter disliked fat young men.
That prejudice had formed years ago after an unpleasant proposal from an infamous noble house. Since then, Alicia maintained distance from boys who fit that image. Yet today, she had personally escorted this one into their estate.
His gaze narrowed.
"Did she develop feelings?" he muttered.
It was truly unacceptable.
Marriage within noble society was not romance. It was alliance, influence, and calculation. Alicia could choose her husband but within limits.
A poor-class boy, even a talented one, did not meet those limits.
Another page mentioned Baston's altercation with Clark, the auction incident, and the appearance of Joker.
He dismissed it at first but something lingered. Too many coincidences surrounded this boy. He gave a quiet order to the butler.
"Observe him... Test him with something..."
If Baston was ordinary, the matter would end swiftly.
If he was not, then he as the family head needed to know why.
*****
Back in the guest room, a faint tremor rippled through the air.
Baston's eyes snapped open.
The old book truly read his circumstance. Its presence stirred within him like a pulse beneath skin.
The words soon formed on the page.
"Have some people from the noble family you stay to show some respect to you…"
"Respect…" Baston whispered.
A dangerous and hard quest.
Respect from nobles was not obtained through begging. It was extracted through demonstration.
More importantly, the quest specified some people. It was not Alicia alone. He needed acknowledgment, a public acknowledgment. His gaze drifted toward the ceiling.
The timing was suspicious that almost as if the old book pushed him forward into something wicked.
"BOOM!!!"
The door suddenly exploded inward under a surge of wind magic.
Baston rolled off the bed instinctively, mana rising in his core.
Several boys stormed inside uninvitingly.
"You! You must be Baston, right?"
"It's him!"
"Why would Alicia bring someone like this here?"
Their hostility was immediate and unfiltered. The leader stepped forward. He was slim with refined features and aristocratic posture.
"My name is Theodore," he declared, "You will sever your relationship with Alicia immediately."
Baston blinked, "Relationship?"
"She possesses pure noble blood and wind magic talent. Meanwhile, you…" Theodore's gaze swept him with disdain, "You are unfit..."
The accusation was sharp and rehearsed, too rehearsed to be the natural one.
He wondered if this boy was just like Clark. Although he was in different house but the same pattern still existed.
"There's a misunderstanding," Baston replied calmly.
Theodore scoffed, "She has never invited any boy home, not even Clark, and you expect us to believe there is nothing between you?"
So that was the narrative. Baston almost laughed.
If they knew Alicia's opinion of Clark, they would choke on their assumptions. Before he could respond further, footsteps approached.
"What are you doing here?"
Alicia's voice cut through the tension like a blade. The boys stiffened immediately. Their arrogance melted under her stare.
"I'm just afraid you might be deceived," Theodore insisted weakly, "We're only protecting you as a family."
"Protecting?" Alicia's tone chilled, "From my own guest?"
Theodore's jaw tightened at her words.
Unlike the other boys who had already begun shrinking under Alicia's gaze, he did not retreat immediately.
His fingers curled subtly at his sides as if restraining something heavier than anger.
He was not just another cousin.
He was her younger brother.
He was only two years younger, two years behind.
Since childhood, their names had always been spoken together yet never equally. Alicia and Theodore but the tone always favored her.
She was the firstborn, the heir's pride, and the wind prodigy whose control manifested earlier than expected.
Tutors praised her instincts, knights complimented her battlefield composure, and even visiting nobles mentioned her talent with admiration.
Theodore had talent too but his growth had been compared, measured, and evaluated against hers from the beginning.
When she mastered wind blades, he was still stabilizing basic currents.
When she attended her first high-society banquet, he was told to observe and learn.
When she received recognition from the academy, he received reminders to train harder.
He respected her and admired her but he also lived in the shadow she unknowingly cast.
"You don't understand," Theodore said, voice lower now with less explosive and more strained, "This house carries weight. Every action you take reflects on all of us."
Alicia's eyes sharpened, "And you believe bringing a guest threatens that weight?"
"You brought him without formal notice," Theodore shot back, "Without evaluation and without discussion."
The accusation lingered heavier than before. That was the true issue. Not Baston's appearance and not rumors but procedure.
Noble families moved through structure.
Invitations were documented, visitors were screened, and suitors were introduced through proper channels. Alicia had bypassed that entire system.
For Theodore, that felt reckless and perhaps personal.
"She has never invited a boy home before," one of the other youths muttered nervously as if trying to justify Theodore's stance.
Theodore pressed on, emboldened by the support, "Not Clark and not any of the houses who formally expressed interest but suddenly, a poor-class student stays inside our estate? Do you expect me to ignore that?"
Alicia's expression shifted slightly. Not anger but disappointment.
"You assume too much," she said calmly.
"Do I?" Theodore countered, "Father has expectations. The noble society watches our alliances carefully. One wrong association…"
"Association?" Alicia interrupted sharply, "He is just a guest."
"A guest whose background is unclear," Theodore insisted, "Rumor of fallen nobility, involved in incidents at the auction hall, and many more..."
Theodore did not realize how much he had exposed with that single line.
He knew details beyond ordinary gossip and that alone suggested their father had already looked into Baston's background.
Alicia caught it immediately. Her gaze, which had only been stern before, gradually turned colder.
"Father spoke to you," she said.
It was not a question.
Theodore hesitated for a fraction of a second. That brief pause was enough. The air between them shifted almost imperceptibly.
What had begun as protective outrage now carried the weight of authority behind it. This was no longer merely a younger brother acting out of concern.
It was suspicion sanctioned from above.
"You think I'm naïve," Alicia continued quietly, "That I cannot differentiate between good and bad."
Theodore did not answer at once.
His silence was not defiance but conflict. He understood what she implied, yet he could not simply withdraw his stance.
Because he had grown up witnessing how this household truly operated.
Alliances were never built on affection. They were forged through leverage.
Theodore had watched their father reject seemingly suitable proposals from weaker families without hesitation.
Compatibility meant little if influence did not align. He had seen negotiations revolve around territory, military backing, and access to magical resources rather than personal preference.
In this house, decisions were measured in advantage. And from that perspective, Baston was an unknown variable.
Marriage was currency and reputation was armor.
Alicia, as eldest daughter, was strategic capital.
To Theodore, Baston represented instability.
Unknown variables who threatened noble order. But beneath that political reasoning, there was something more human.
Jealousy, not romantic one, and sibling displacement.
If Alicia chose someone unexpected or someone outside noble circles, it meant she moved independently of family expectation.
And that independence widened the gap between them.
"You always act like you know better," Theodore muttered quietly, almost to himself, "Like the rest of us are slow to understand."
Alicia's posture softened slightly.
"Theodore…" she said and for the first time her voice lost its sharp edge, "This is not about you competing with me."
The words struck. He stiffened and the other boys exchanged uneasy glances. It was rare for family tension to surface so openly.
"You think this is competition?" Theodore asked.
"I think you feel compared…" Alicia replied gently, "And that makes you angry."
His composure cracked for half a second then hardened again.
"I am angry," he admitted coldly, "Because I have to be."
That confession lingered in the air.
He had grown up guarding the family name in his own way through obedience, through structure, and through adherence to noble expectation.
Alicia guarded it differently through excellence and undeniable strength.
Now she brought an unpredictable element into the estate.
To Theodore, that felt like inviting chaos into a carefully balanced system.
Before the exchange could deepen further, footsteps echoed down the corridor. It was measured, composed, and intentional.
It was the butler. He stepped forward smoothly, bowing with impeccable courtesy.
But this time, Alicia looked at him with narrowed eyes.
"You were listening?" she said.
The butler did not answer with words. He did not need to because his silence was confirmation.
Alicia exhaled slowly. She started to realize the meaning from all of this. The so-called conflict was surely didn't come from Theodore.
It was backed from her father as the head of family.
"Young master Baston," he said calmly, "It appears doubt exists and doubt breeds disrespect.
Perhaps, a friendly spar would clarify matters."
Baston's eyes narrowed. There it was. The proposal was too precise and too convenient.
The boys caused a scene and the butler offered a solution that tests strength before it became a public resolution.
This was not chaos because this was orchestration.
Such blatant event, the head of the family must be watching from somewhere. He surely was measuring and testing him.
Slowly, it came toward his mind. The quest, the test, and the timing. It was all aligned.
"Very well," Baston agreed but he added one condition, "I prefer the biggest arena where everyone can watch to clear the doubt."
Theodore smirked but the butler did not. He understood the implication.
The biggest arena meant witnesses, confirming acknowledgment.
Respect, if earned, would not be private. It would echo and all people had to accept it.
The boys left in high spirits and the servants quickly repaired the shattered door, erasing evidence of aggression since their reputation mattered.
Alicia lingered after everyone left. She studied Baston carefully, curiosity flickering in her eyes.
He was indeed ranked the strongest among juniors but rankings were just numbers while reality was different.
She almost apologized for Theodore's behavior but she stopped.
Baston did not seem offended. He seemed calculating.
After a moment, she quietly excused herself.
The arena would reveal the rest.
And somewhere deeper within the estate, the unseen eyes waited for the performance to begin.