Rising from the murky depths of sleep, I groaned into my pillow. The sun was being unusually aggressive this morning, rude, considering I had blackout curtains specifically to avoid this kind of wake-up call. Sleeping in until noon was supposed to be a sacred right.
And yet, here I was. Awake.
The birds outside my window were also far too cheerful for my taste. Loud, chatty, and definitely not native to my usual concrete jungle of an apartment, where trees were rare and birds even rarer.
All of it, sunlight, birdsong, and unfamiliar comfort, slowly dragged me up from the haze. I blinked blearily at my surroundings… and froze.
The room was too large. Too ornate. Too not mine.
And that's when reality came crashing down around me.
"…Fuck."
Right. Other world. Magical nonsense. Sword Saints and disgusting potions.
It wasn't a dream.
'Welp, up and at 'em.'
Finally dragging myself out of what had to be the most comfortable bed in existence, I realized, shockingly, I didn't feel like a walking bruise anymore.
'Huh. That potion really did do the trick.'
Still bleary, I stumbled my way into the attached bathroom and blinked at the unexpectedly modern setup. There was a decent-looking sink, a toilet that wasn't just a medieval bucket (bless), complete with one of those old-fashioned pull-chain flush mechanisms… and, unless my sleep-addled eyes were deceiving me, a fucking shower.
Or something close to one, at least. No knobs, just a set of embedded crystals where the handles should've been. Didn't matter. I'd take it.
After taking care of business, I caught sight of the mirror in the corner and instantly regretted it. I'd been avoiding it for a reason.
Staring back at me were the same long, white bangs from yesterday, but this time I caught something I hadn't noticed before: my eyes.
Dull gold.
'Fucking great. I look like a Sith lord or something.'
'It's too early in the morning for this shit.'
I hopped in the shower, fiddled with the crystals until it started working (magically, I guess?), and let the warm water wash away the remnants of sleep.
Toweled off with what might have been the fluffiest towel known to man, I rifled through the wardrobe for something to wear. I took a grey tunic, black dress pants, and some new socks. I kept my trusty black hoodie, though, small comforts, and slipped on my sneakers for good measure. Everything I had borrowed fit surprisingly well, but had just enough of that feeling to know it wasn't perfectly my size. It'd do.
Finally dressed and feeling almost human again, I stepped out into the hallway…
…and realized something crucial.
I had no fucking clue where I was going.
And so I stood there.
Turning left. Then right. Then left again.
'I never actually made a plan with Rein on where we would meet in the morning. That little dining room, maybe?'
The ornate halls of the Astrea estate stretched endlessly in both directions, each one looking exactly like the last, elegant, pristine, and absolutely unhelpful. I turned in a slow circle, hoping for a hint, a smell, maybe divine intervention.
Naturally, that's when I heard laughter behind me.
"Oh no," came Flam's voice, unmistakably amused, "he's doing the lost puppy look."
"Poor thing," Grassis added, rounding the corner with her twin. "Should we get him a leash?"
Apparently, they'd been peeking around the corner the whole time, quietly watching me flounder. Hilarious.
I turned slowly to face them. "You two have the exact energy of little sisters who'd dare each other to hide my shoes just to watch me panic."
At that, they locked eyes for a beat, then spoke in perfect unison.
"Thanks for the idea."
My expression went flat. "Great," I muttered, brushing past them.
As I passed, I reached out and gave both of them a light hair ruffle.
Instant indignation.
They swatted my hands away with all the grace and precision of my old cat back home, but the small smirks tugging at the corners of their mouths betrayed them.
They didn't really mind.
The girls flanked me like pint-sized royal guards as we strolled through the estate's halls, their matching steps in perfect sync with each other.
Descending the staircase that led from what I guessed was the guest floor of the manor, we turned down yet another hall, this one quieter, more refined. On the way, we passed a few other maids, each offering polite nods and surprisingly warm smiles toward the girls, and to my shock, even to me.
I noticed something else, too. Around the other staff, Flam and Grassis instantly snapped into their proper maid personas. Backs straight, faces composed, hands folded just so. They looked like model professionals.
It was cute, honestly.
Eventually, we arrived at a door tucked into a secluded corner of the second floor. Grassis knocked thrice with practiced ease before pushing it open.
"Master Reinhard," she called, her tone lighter now than it had been with the other staff. "We managed to wrangle Ethan down here."
I gave her a look of exaggerated indignation, only for both twins to stick their tongues out at me in perfect sync. The professional masks had officially slipped.
From within came Reinhard's familiar voice, calm and kind. "Send him in. And thank you, both."
Grassis patted me on the back like a soldier heading into battle. "Don't get lost on the way in."
"Or cry," Flam added helpfully.
I exhaled slowly, then stepped forward into Reinhard's private office.
The first thing I saw was him, seated behind a massive wooden desk, paperwork spread out in neat, almost surgical precision. Sunlight streamed in from the wide window behind him, framed by drawn-back curtains. The sky outside was clear and bright, but the light filtering in felt soft, diffused before it could blind anyone.
Reinhard, of course, looked flawless. Just like yesterday. His red hair practically glowed in the sunlight, his outfit, similar in structure to his Royal Guard uniform, but clearly more casual, still carried an air of quiet regality.
And then there was the smile.
That natural, radiant, burn-through-cloud-cover kind of smile that made it impossible not to grin back. Even while offering it to me, his hand moved with calm efficiency, pen gliding across the page in clean, elegant strokes.
He nodded in greeting, voice soft. "Good morning, Ethan. I hope you slept well."
I returned the nod, already smiling. "I don't know if it was magic or craftsmanship, but that was the most comfortable bed I've ever slept in. Same with the pajamas. And that's coming from someone used to mass-produced comfort tech."
"So yeah, slept like a baby."
"I'm glad to hear it," he replied warmly. Then, with a graceful gesture toward the chairs in front of his desk and the couches off to the side, he added, "Please, make yourself comfortable."
I chose the seat directly across from him. It felt more personal than lounging off to the side.
"I'll be finished with my reports shortly," he said, even as another completed page whisked itself into a growing stack with a flick of his wrist. A new sheet floated into place, and the quill continued its steady work, silent, fluid, almost mechanical in its precision.
"Then, perhaps... we could head to breakfast together?" His tone shifted just slightly, lighter, more uncertain, as though stepping from duty into friendship made him tread a little softer.
I couldn't help but laugh. "Rein, of course I want to eat with you. It's not like I've got anywhere else to be."
I leaned back, letting the quiet rustle of parchment and the smooth scratch of ink lull me into a state that was dangerously close to a nap.
Then, with a faint creak of his chair, Reinhard stood.
"My apologies for making you wait, Ethan. I've finished my work."
I blinked, sat up, and glanced at the desk, now stacked with a neat mountain of completed documents.
He had finished it all in under ten minutes…
With that, he ushered me out of the office, and we walked side-by-side down now-familiar corridors. The morning light poured through the high windows, and once again, I was taunted by the heavenly aroma drifting from the kitchen. Butter. Sausage. Something faintly sweet. I clenched my jaw, resisting the urge to break into a sprint like a starved raccoon.
Thankfully, salvation came quickly.
The moment we stepped into the cozy dining room, whatever self-restraint I had left evaporated. Not because I lost control, no, because I didn't need to. It was all already there, waiting. Set out like the opening to a food commercial designed to personally ruin me.
Flam and Grassis stood in the corner with their usual semi-smug smiles, and before us sat a breakfast that looked straight-up divine.
There were bowls of creamy-looking grits, thick links of sausage that glistened with just enough oil to be dangerous, fluffy scrambled eggs cooked to golden perfection, and a stack of biscuits so buttery and crisp they practically begged to be drowned in the jar of honey beside them. A pitcher of what I assumed was orange juice waited nearby, chilled and glistening with condensation.
I'm not usually a breakfast guy; eating this early normally churns my stomach, but this? This was different. The food here didn't just taste good; it felt good. As if the very act of eating was healing something deep and tired in me.
'Maybe food in this world has magical benefits?'
I shook my head and focused on handing out righteous praise. "Thanks, girls," I said, genuinely grateful. "This looks amazing."
I paused, then turned toward them hopefully. "You two gonna join us?"
Flam hesitated for a fraction of a second before her face settled into its usual cool neutrality. "Wish we could. But we've got morning rounds."
Grassis gave a playful little shrug, but there was a faint downturn in her expression too. "Maybe next time."
With a practiced grace that clashed slightly with their earlier teasing, both of them curtsied, then slipped out the door. I watched them go, already missing the usual background chaos they brought.
Still, the quiet that followed wasn't unpleasant.
If anything, it was peaceful.
Reinhard and I took our seats. The sunlight hit just right through the window, warming the table but not blinding us. He picked up a folded paper from beside his plate, some kind of local bulletin or gazette, judging by the crest on the corner, and unfolded it with the same calm precision he did everything else.
We ate in companionable silence, the kind where nothing needed to be said.
For a moment, it felt… normal. Which was rare, given my entire life situation right now.
Yesterday, around this time, I was unceremoniously yeeted into another world. Now I was sitting in a sunlit dining room of a noble estate, next to a living legend with firetruck hair and a smile that could power a small city, eating breakfast like it was just another Sunday morning back home.
'Man… what is life?'
As I sipped what turned out to be the freshest orange juice I'd ever had, if that's what it was, I glanced at him, wondering if today had some kind of schedule. If I was supposed to do anything. Before I could ask, he folded his newspaper with a faint snap and smiled, then spoke like he'd heard the question form before I could voice it.
"I was thinking," he began lightly, "that since today is technically my day off, it might be nice to spend it showing you around the capital. There's a market district near the center of the capital that tends to be livelier on days like this."
I blinked. "You sure you're not secretly telepathic?"
He chuckled, setting the paper aside. "Not quite. Some of my Divine Protections are… attuned. Sometimes I just get a feeling. Like when someone nearby has something on their mind."
"...Man, that's mildly terrifying."
"Don't worry," he added with a small grin. "It's not mind-reading. More like… a nudge. A hunch. They're meant to help me be where I'm needed. And today, I think that place is beside you."
That got a small laugh out of me. "Well, I won't complain about having…" I cleared my throat, then raised my hand in mock-grandiosity, "The Sword Saint, as my personal tour guide."
Reinhard chuckled softly, but the way his eyes flicked briefly to the side didn't escape me. A subtle shift, like a crack in otherwise perfect glass.
"Though," I added quickly, lowering the tone, "you're a lot less intimidating in person. Bit of a letdown, really."
That earned a genuine smile, warmer than the rest. "I'll try to disappoint you further before the day's out."
"You'd better," I said, grin fading just slightly. "Otherwise, I'll forget you're supposed to be some untouchable legend."
He gave a mock sigh. "And here I was hoping you'd already forgotten that."
We shared a quiet laugh, the sort that settled easily between friends. Then he gestured to the hall with a casual flick of his wrist.
"So, shall we get you something a bit more fitting to wear? You are representing House Astrea today."
"Dress me as you see fit, my liege," I muttered, rising with a stretch.
With a grin on his face from my little joke, Reinhard led me out of the dining room and down a shorter hallway this time, one I hadn't noticed yesterday. There were no servants here, the air still, lit by filtered morning light through stained-glass windows.
He stopped before a door and turned to me, that ever-gentle smile in place. "Before we head out… I thought you might want to look the part."
I blinked. "You're giving me a sword?"
He laughed at that, shaking his head. "Not just yet. Let's start with something more appropriate for a walk through the capital."
He pushed open the door, revealing a small but ornate changing room.
Reinhard crossed the room to a tall, finely carved wardrobe and opened it with a gentle creak. He stepped aside and gestured for me to come look inside.
"I had something prepared," he said casually, like this wasn't a big deal.
Inside hung what could only be described as Astrea-tier drip: a pristine white coat with lilac lining, the crest of House Astrea stitched on the left arm in flawless embroidery. Beneath it was a sleek black shirt, identical to the one he wore under own jacket, paired with tailored white trousers, the cuffs tipped in pale violet. A matching black belt rested on a nearby shelf, and a pair of polished boots and black gloves sat neatly below it, looking like they'd been shined just moments ago.
I stared at it for a beat. "...This is your idea of casual?"
Reinhard actually looked a little bashful. "It's what I wear when I'm not in uniform."
"Right," I deadpanned. "Royal knight-chic. Got it."
I reached out and ran my fingers along the coat's fabric. It was soft, expensive, and, judging by the way it was arranged, clearly tailored to me. I blinked.
No way.
This wasn't like the borrowed stuff from the wardrobe yesterday. Or even the pajamas. This looked like it would fit me. Perfectly. Down to the shoulder width, inseam, even the taper of the pants. And I knew I hadn't given my measurements to anyone. Hell, until just now, I don't think I could've even guessed them.
Click.
Reason and Judgement filtered my view and confirmed my suspicions, what I saw in my head matched exactly what hung before me.
Somebody had gone out of their way to get my sizing with freakish precision.
Still, I couldn't complain. The outfit looked damn good.
I turned to Rein with a raised brow. "Gotta say, if I look even half as good in this as you do, the capital might not survive."
He smiled modestly, but his eyes lit up with a quiet kind of pride. "I think it will suit you. And… you deserve something that represents your place here."
That brought me up short. My place?
I didn't really have an answer to that. Not yet. But I reached in, pulled the coat from its hanger, and nodded.
"Then I'll wear it with pride."
I almost giggled at the stupid double-entendre there.
With Rein stepping out of the room I turned to begin the task of equipping my new outfit.
The black shirt slid on smooth as silk, hugging my frame like it had been grown from my skin. The trousers fit with mathematical perfection, no sag, no pinch, just clean lines and tailored grace. The coat was the crown jewel, long and regal, its cutaway front catching the light with every movement. The lilac lining flashed with each step like it was showing off on my behalf.
I slid on the gloves, tightened the belt, and listened as my fitted boots clacked as I stepped in front of the dressing room mirror.
Silence.
Then—
"…God damn," I muttered to myself.
I couldn't lie to myself, as strange as suddenly gaining white-hair and golden eyes like an anime protagonist was, it definitely added to my fashion level.
I looked like I was about to go fight the final boss and one-shot him as if it was a side-chore, probably because the outfit was essentially Rein's, and from what little I'd read on what Sword Saints could do in the library yesterday, that sounded right up his alley.
Reinhard knocked on the door, and with a mumbled confirmation that he could come in, I heard him chuckle from behind me.
"I take it the outfit is satisfactory?"
I spun around with a grin, arms spread in theatrical fashion. "Rein, you really didn't have to get me something that looks this damn good. At this rate, the manor might drown in elegance."
He laughed, head tilting back in amusement. "I'm glad you approve."
"Oh, I don't just approve," I said, gesturing toward the mirror. "I'm thinking of charging people admission."
Reinhard smiled, and for a moment, I caught the faintest flicker of something softer in his expression. Pride, maybe. Or relief. Maybe just glad to see me comfortable.
Either way, my confidence was rising, without even needing to trigger Reason and Judgement, and together, we stepped out of the dressing room looking ready to crash the fanciest party in town.