I Start with a Bad Hand!

At that moment, the feeling I had towards Hayden was similar to the betrayal I imagined feeling towards Mr. Nakamura, whom I encountered in a mixed hostel in Texas. Of course, I had never been to the U.S. or met Mr. Nakamura, but as a metaphor, it was like that.

Mr. Nakamura and I had nothing in common—gender, nationality, upbringing—except for our unfamiliarity with American culture. The shock I felt when this man from Osaka suddenly said, “Wow, America. Amazing,” and lay on the bed with his shoes on.

“No, Mr. Nakamura, why would you do that…?”

Seeing someone from outside the American cultural sphere do something unexpected, something I couldn’t accept but an American might say, “What’s the big deal?”—that’s the strangeness I felt. 

“Yes, I swear on the ground,” Hayden said, and I felt that same odd feeling. Although Hayden had lived in the Empire for about two years, and might have gotten used to Imperial customs, his oath felt different, like a Korean person suddenly revering a cow after living in India for a year—an incomprehensible shift.

Especially in a world where divine power is not only evident but localized like a Wi-Fi signal, it seemed implausible that someone who believed in a sky-bound deity would easily adapt to swearing on the ground. 

“Besides, didn’t that Sereti student say, ‘Your world’s god is below the ground, our world’s god is in the sky?’ They think our Empire’s religious views are peculiar.”

As I reached that thought, I instinctively grabbed the box Hayden was taking away.

‘Maybe I’m overthinking it…’

But I couldn’t ignore the inexplicable kindness, the suspicious approach, and the uneasy feeling. Hayden paused, tilting his head at me.

“Senior… I’m sorry to change my mind, but I’ll keep this gift.”

“…Really?”

“Yes, it seems you’ve put a lot of thought into it… It wouldn’t be polite to refuse.”

If I returned it, you wouldn’t be able to wear it anyway. As I hastily added this reason, Hayden blinked a few times, then broke into a clear laugh.

“Alright, I think it will suit you perfectly.”

Returning to my dorm with the large box, I sat in my chair, my legs trembling slightly. My gaze was fixed on my desk drawer.

‘Am I just causing more trouble for myself?’

Despite my reservations, I opened the drawer. Inside was a note given to me by a Sereti student after a friendly match and the subsequent ball.

‘I never thought I’d have a reason to contact them when I received this…’

I fiddled with the note for a moment before opening the drawer below. Beneath the piles of papers and notebooks was an herb that Hayden had given me one day. I hadn’t used it, but I hadn’t thrown it away either. Now, I held two items from Sereti: the address of a Sereti student and the herb Hayden had given me.

Hesitating, I picked up a pen.

***

‘I’m not suspecting Hayden because of one thing.’

There’s no reason to suspect him. It’s just personal curiosity. Chewing on my pen, I rocked my chair back and forth. The sound of the chair legs scraping against the floor created a background noise.

“You’ll get hurt.”

Irene steadied my half-tilted chair and lightly tapped my forehead.

“Senior, you’re here?”

“Yeah. Have you had lunch?”

“I’m going to have it later with Agnes. Why don’t you join us?”

Nodding, Irene placed a heavy, paper-stuffed briefcase on the desk. She loosened the tie she always wore neatly outside, rolled up her sleeves, and fastened the buttons. Watching her, I prepared my materials.

“So, you want to know more about the Viscount Lord Ferris?”

“Yes, it’s for a reference in our play. Since you’re from a noble family, I thought you could give the most objective explanation.”

Irene cleared her throat at that.

“…It’s a well-known incident in the Empire, so you could find information anywhere.”

But if you need me… she added with a hint of mischief, pulling out several thick books from her bag.

The House of Viscount Lord Ferris. One of the three most likely families with a grudge against the House of Elexion, now an extinct noble house, and known for using fires to erase traces, a method known only to insiders.

“Considering that mysterious fires broke out at the orphanage run by Dietrich’s biological father (now revealed as her stepfather), at the orphanage of the former Duchess of Elexion’s family, and even at the shady Rhymers Street where someone left the hair I sold outside my door… it’s highly suspicious.”

The reason for revisiting the identity of that family, uncovered last year, was the upcoming deadline for the final script of the play.

‘At least this time, there’s no midterm evaluation…’

I thought about the play, which was being pulled in different directions by many people, leading to a fragmented outcome. Thinking about the participants, who were already exhausted, I stretched my neck, hearing a series of cracking sounds.

“Once you read through it, you’ll see that the story is simpler than it seems. As I mentioned before, the honor of the role was paramount to the stewards, and seeking monetary compensation for it was considered vulgar.”

I nodded, and Irene continued speaking.

“Actually, being a steward isn’t something one can choose. Once it’s confirmed that someone in the family possesses the required abilities at a certain level, at least one person from that family must take up the position.”

Of course, these days, it’s not as big a deal. Since the incident with the Viscount Lord Ferris’ family, the conditions have improved quite a bit. As she quickly flipped through the pages, Irene pointed out the key events recorded in the history books about the Viscount Lord Ferris’ family.

“Before the fall of the Viscount Lord Ferris’ house, there were primarily four major steward groups in the Empire: the Marquess Horatius family, the Count Fecchia family, the Viscount Lord Ferris family, and a group of commoners who banded together. Nowadays, only the Horatius and Fecchia families maintain any real presence.”

“Uh… I understand about the two noble families, but what about the group formed by commoners?” I asked.

“That group has long since disbanded, leaving only its name. Of course, there might be individuals with steward abilities who haven’t reported them to the Empire and are still active, but that’s beyond my knowledge. The important point is… that the disbandment of that group was also linked to the Lord Ferris family.”

Surprised, I stopped taking notes and looked at Irene.

“As I said before, not all stewards are the same. The ‘certain level’ that seems ambiguous is actually assessed through annual exams. To work for the royal family, one must be tested going back at least 20 years, sometimes up to a hundred years.”

I recalled the story that the Marquess family had served as royal stewards for generations. Even if it was an honorary position, being directly affiliated with the royal family would at least guarantee a minimum standard of living. Almost as if reading my thoughts, Irene nodded slightly.

“The Horatius family served the royal family, and the Count Fecchia family traditionally mediated conflicts among nobles. But the Viscount Lord Ferris’ family wasn’t known for any extraordinary magical abilities, nor were they entrusted with tasks by the nobility… They mostly handled issues arising among commoners.”

Irene took a brief sip of her tea before continuing.

“That’s why most people were unaware. They didn’t know that Lord Ferris had been manipulating records.”

Until a minor noble took his own life.