"Fucker, we're here!"
Lythian slapped Seven across the arm.
He had been trying to wake him for a full minute, but the Seven just would not budge. Not that he himself was awake much longer as he had only stirred a minute before the carriage stopped.
Slowly, Lythian raised the shovel and made to slam it down on Seven's head.
'Just waking him up. Definitely not murder.'
He tried to frame it in his mind as harmless, hoping it would bypass the seal's restrictions.
Yet before he could even strike him…
"AaaaAAA!!"
A searing pain shot through him like lightning, and he screamed loud enough to shake the cart.
The sound jolted Seven awake.
Seeing Lythian panting while clutching his shovel, Seven immediately recognized his intent. He raised his hand to signal him, causing Lythian to scream again as pain surged through him.
The scream drew the attention of two knights guarding the gate and they hurried over their direction.
The man tried to hold them back, but the scream from his own carriage only drew them closer.
But as they neared the carriage, Seven threw back the curtains and stepped out. The knights did not recognize him as, again, Seven spent his whole life inside the exiled mansion and they did not check the carriage during his first visit here.
"Don't move."
The first knight stepped forward and patted Seven's pockets. The second swung open the curtains and stared at Lythian curled up beside the Selverin herbs and groaning.
But then, the first guard stiffened as he spotted the Hart crest— emblem— inside the pocket on Seven's long-sleeved polo.
"I—I apologize, Young Master."
The first guard gasped and dropped to one knee so quickly his sword skittered against the stones scattered on the snow-covered pathway.
The second guard, realizing the situation, mirrored the deep bow.
Although rumors suggested Seven Hart was on the verge of exile for his supposed lack of talent, there was no doubt that the Archduke and his eldest sibling, Eden Hart, favored him.
"We… we failed to recognize you."
The first guard continued.
"We saw a suspicious merchant's cart and assumed you were no one of import. We accept any punishment you deem fitting."
Seven's ashen-blue eyes locked onto the two guards as they knelt before him and ran a hand through his hair.
"Get up."
He said.
"Grant this merchant full entry into the Hart Duchy for the next three months under Eden's order. If he's stopped even once, I'll assume you both know the consequences."
Neither guard moved.
The first guard blinked, the corner of his mouth twitching like he wanted to speak but what came was the synchronized thump of boots hitting the ground as both guards bowed again.
"Understood, Young Master."
The guards then returned to their post and opened the gates to grant the carriage an entry.
Seven stepped back inside.
The man also climbed back up the carriage and drove it through the gate.
Neigh!
Hff…
Seven took a deep breath.
Lie.
What he said about this entry under Eden's order was a lie, but necessary.
Otherwise, just like what happened to the throne hall's door when he first came here to meet the Archduke, his father, would just repeat— where the guards would not budge and remain firm about their entry.
'This fucker…'
Lythian thought as he stared at Seven.
After all, the Seven Hart in the novel was no doubt to be a loser who died without much resistance. But there's no way a loser made all this much progress in such a short time frame and suddenly changed.
'Is he… like me?'
But then he shook his head.
Transmigration only happens to a single person, and it happened to be himself. In the novels he read, the only thing where two or more people from Earth teleported to another world was those isekai stuff such as the entire class.
Still, he could not help but suspect him given that he also obtained the artifact reserved for the protagonist.
"Fuck this. …I'll just observe him for now.'
After more than a minute, the carriage came to a halt.
Again, Seven pushed the curtains open and hopped down just to see lined-up stalls and a busy street.
Lythian followed as he stretched his arms with a yawn.
Step.
Seven walked towards the man and vaguely smiled.
"...Thanks."
"No, no. I should be thanking you. If it weren't for our encounter, I'd be spending the whole week trying to haggle with those damn mercenaries."
The man clenched his fist.
"Always asking for discounts like they're doing me a favor for buying my goods.
"Half of them don't even know Selverin from swamp moss, and still have the nerve to argue over the price."
The man glanced around, unable to hide the grin tugging at his lips.
Compared to the Village of Exile, this place was paradise— clean roads, stone walls, real guard posts. A hundred times better if he dared say.
"I'm Brandon."
Right after, the man offered a handshake.
"It's a pleasure to meet a generous young master like you, Seven Hart."
The man grinned as he said it, tone just a touch too light to be completely respectful. There was no fear in his voice like the stiff politeness most commoners adopted around noble blood.
Seven accepted the handshake and asked,
"How much for a bundle?"
"Heh, take one and be on your way."
"..."
Seven looked at Lythian, and Lythian immediately reached out and picked a tightly bound bundle of Selverin herbs. The faint herbal scent filled the air as he tucked it beneath his cloak.
Step.
As they walked away, Lythian hurled it towards Seven.
'Store: Selverin herbs.'
He thought.
The bundle in his hands immediately disappeared.
He immediately frowned as a realization hit him that he acted without thinking. If Lythian caught sight of the sudden disappearance, suspicions would flare.
Dimensional storage was unheard of in this world.
'Fudge.'
But as he did, Lythian was looking on the other side, towards a stall where daggers with different designs were displayed.
'...Did he really not see it?'