Chapter 22
(1/3 probability)
The air in the reception room was so thick with tension it felt ready to burst.
Corinth del Parne, the master of the house, was utterly relaxed. He savored the aroma of his tea, then began summarizing the topic they'd just discussed.
"So... to sum it up."
Clink.
"The three greatest minds of the empire and the Imperial Academy have come all the way to this humble abode to fight over my worthless son. Is that the right understanding?"
"Worthless son? Perish the thought!"
Professor Wilhelm was the first to jump in. He pounded his chest with a thick fist.
"Palace Count! Why did you hide your son away all this time? That insight he dropped in my tactics class—it struck this old man's heart!"
"Insight? From that lazy slacker?"
"Laziness? That's proof his wild spirit's alive! Like an untamed stallion!"
Professor Wilhelm ranted on.
"Leave him to me. Under my watch, three years—no, just one year of training, and I'll mold him into a fine servant of the empire! A real man needs to sweat and roll in the dirt to become human, right?"
Corinth's eyebrow twitched—just enough for Iris to notice.
'Make a man out of him.' How tempting an offer. Iris had never borne a child, but imagining her own master's gaze as parental affection, she could guess Corinth del Parne's feelings.
He was undoubtedly intrigued.
'No... the Palace Count seems to like that proposal!'
The military? She'd thought she'd never meet another like her in this lifetime, only to have him snatched away by some sweat-stinking army brute?
Seizing the opening, Muller Viscountess struck.
"Professor Wilhelm's words have merit, but what era do you think this is? Why go full macho?"
"Hmph. What's wrong with forging a man into a proper one?"
"Kasian seemed happiest handling soil. Forcing him into the military, against his nature—wouldn't prioritizing his happiness be true parental love?"
Muller Viscountess spoke with confident poise.
"Plus, herbology makes money. You know it, Palace Count—our house owns one of the capital's top trading companies."
"Of course. Your business acumen is well-known."
"If Kasian wants, post-graduation, I'll bring him in as a partner, list him as a director. Depending on his performance, shares included—a full partner treatment. With his talent, he could turn dirt into gold."
"Ho ho."
Corinth's eyes curved slyly. A future nurturing his aptitudes and amassing vast wealth. Another sweet deal hard to refuse.
Scratches began forming on Iris's mentality.
'Right... the Muller Viscountess owns that famous capital trading firm.'
The source of their immense capital—her personally run herb farms—hit bone-deep now.
Magic? Honor? All good. But from a cold parent's view:
Fix his character vs. Build wealth on his talents.
Her "I'll teach him some magic" felt pathetically thin by comparison.
Her one clear edge over the others: overwhelming prestige.
But Parne Palace Count didn't seem the type to care about elevating family honor through his son.
Cold sweat trickled down Iris's spine.
'...I'm screwed. My card's the weakest.'
She bit her lip in anxiety.
'Should've rigged the faculty meeting, shoved that research key to Kasian faster.'
Personal labs needed faculty approval—time-consuming. Knowing this, she'd have trashed decorum, caused a scene, formalized his faction entry yesterday.
Truth was, Iris hadn't dawdled. Kasian's demonic charm ensnaring three professors at once was the absurd part.
No use lamenting—the carriage was gone.
No miracle reversal came to mind here.
Corinth set down his teacup, drawing conclusions.
"All three proposals have merit. None I could discard lightly."
He paused, then declared with his signature lazy smile.
"Just present them to my son as-is."
"...Pardon?"
Professor Wilhelm's eyes bulged.
"Hand the choice to your son?"
"Yes. He's not burdened as heir—it's his life, after all. I'd like his opinion."
Corinth leaned back.
"If he can't decide, then as family head and father, I'll judge."
"Hrm. Fair enough."
Professor Wilhelm nodded, exuding confidence.
Muller Viscountess smiled leisurely too.
"Reasonable. I trust Kasian will choose wisely."
Iris exhaled in partial relief.
'Good. Better this way.'
Considering Kasian's nature: lazy, hated hassle.
'At least better than the army.'
Rolling in dirt? Kasian would freak and bolt. Wilhelm's pitch: out first round.
Problem: Muller Viscountess. Farming and money's allure—dangerous.
Earlier, pre-Wilhelm, hours debating "who's best for Kasian" with her—she'd heard he loved soil. Seemed true.
'He won't fall for it... hopefully.'
Iris fidgeted anxiously.
Then.
Knock knock.
"Family head, I've brought Young Master Kasian."
Alfred's voice from outside.
A thick smile spread on Corinth's lips.
"Send him in."
The reception room's heat. Lions, tigers, grizzlies crammed in one cage, growling—tension prickling my skin.
One "noticing glances" in anxious puppy mode, though.
And center stage: Dad, leisurely sipping tea.
Every time like this, I realize—Dad's on another level. Bowl's different. Vessel's different.
I rubbed my dry face, then brazenly recapped like I'd heard it all.
"So, all three of you want me as your disciple?"
Never dreamed it'd happen. Self-conscious overkill? Apologies to past-me who slapped his own cheek minutes ago.
Sorry, cheek. Turns out I really am the adults' idol.
Iris at sofa's end flinched seeing me. Desperately poker-facing, but her teacup-grip whitened knuckles. Red eyes glanced anxiously.
'...Sigh, that woman.'
Zero self-awareness? Objectively, as mentor: Iris, overwhelming tier 1.
Empire's top mage's sole disciple. Buy that title anywhere?
Who else to leech off?
'Not me, though.'
Ah. Instinctively senses it won't work on me? Kinda feel bad now. Not someone to get brushed off like this.
No time to coddle her mentality, though.
"Hrm."
Dad in the head seat—Corinth's gaze was off. Poker-facing the trio, but I knew: extremely pleased. Beep boop.
(1/3 probability)
'Game over, fucked.' That's what this means.
Dumbly say "let's discuss together" here? Can't slash that 1/3 odds.
Plus.
'Even as Dad, he'd want me enlisted.'
Guy's dead serious about making me a proper human.
Time to shatter the board. Okay. Break the flow, divide and conquer.
I politely requested of Dad.
"Father. If it's my call, I'd like private talks one-on-one."
"Private?"
"Yes. The empire's top minds—and me, a mere student, weighing you all together like on scales? Poor manners."
Perfect rationale. Manners. Nobles' sacred cow.
Dad pondered, then nodded.
"Makes sense."
His gaze swept me sharply.
'Didn't expect that poise from you here.' Swallowing those words, visible.
Sigh. Life as a distrusted son.
Dad set down his cup, stood.
"Fine. By seniority—Professor Wilhelm first?"
"Great! Man-to-man frank talk's best!"
Wilhelm boomed, slapping his knee. Confidence oozing. Already naming me adjutant.
Muller shrugged agreement; Iris... no choice, nodded.
"You two, with me to the study. More tea."
Dad led Iris and Muller out.
Click.
Door shut. Just me and Wilhelm.
Silence flowed.
Wilhelm eyed me top to bottom, smacked lips in smug satisfaction.
"Kya, finer the look, the more I crave this timber. Those eyes! Rebel-packed boredom with worldly tedium! That's wild spirit!"
"...A compliment?"
"Highest praise! Modern pups lack venom in their gaze—venom! On the battlefield, your glazed-eye types scare most."
Nope. Just everything's a hassle.
This guy's bean-curtained hard.
"No more chatter. Come under me."
Wilhelm jabbed a thick finger my way.
"That insight of yours. 'Who raises the cows?'—genius! Strategic grasp spanning logistics and economy! Too good to waste, eh?"
Why fixate on that rotten old pun?
...Ah, age. Damn. My bad.
"Overpraise. Just country bumpkin knowledge."
"Humble too! Can't fathom the bad rep clinging to you!"
Driving me nuts. I sighed deep, sank into the sofa.
Straight talk won't work here.
"Army sucks!" → "Army'll make you a man."
"Too hard!" → "Overcome it."
"You must become a soldier."
Wilhelm's eyes blazed.
Hotter than a general spotting the enemy commander.