With my new outfit on and the day ahead of us, Rein and I were nearly ready to head out into the heart of the capital. First, though, I needed to return my old clothes to my room.
I was already dreading the three flights of stairs when Reinhard waved over a passing maid. She looked all too pleased to be personally given a task by the Sword Saint, and she eagerly reached out for the bundle in my arms.
What followed was an awkward tug-of-war as I tried to insist it wasn't a big deal, only to cave under her sheer enthusiasm. I surrendered the clothes with a sigh. Her eyes practically sparkled with determination and loyalty, as if completing this minor errand would earn her a medal.
Reinhard, for his part, just gave a polite, resigned smile. Like this was the hundredth time someone insisted on carrying his stuff for him.
With no more burdens tying us down, well, me, we made for the entrance hall. Passing the drawing room, I instinctively tensed, half-expecting Rein's drunken father to come storming out again in another fit. But the hall remained quiet.
Instead, we found much better company waiting for us just ahead.
Grimm stood nearby, tall and weathered like a monument to an older age. He was speaking gently to Flam and Grassis, both of whom looked uncharacteristically bashful and pleased by whatever kind words he was offering.
As we approached, I caught the tail end of it, something about Reinhard being proud of them.
When the three noticed us, their expressions brightened.
Grimm straightened immediately as we approached, every inch the model of an old soldier. His presence shifted from warm and gentle to dutiful and disciplined in an instant.
"Master Reinhard," he said, bowing slightly, "is there anything I can provide before you depart for the capital?"
Rein gave him that calm, ever-polite nod. "No, Grimm. I believe we're all set. Please look after the grounds while Ethan and I are away."
Then, like a shot from the shadows, Flam struck.
"Hey Ethan, guess with amazing clothes even you can look half-decent."
I barely flinched. Her barbs couldn't pierce the armor of my confidence.
"Half-decent?" I grinned. "I bet when I walk into the capital, I'll have half the women all over me."
Grassis joined in like it was a coordinated takedown, and I swear Grimm's face had already adopted the look of a man bracing for impact.
"Yeah, maybe half the old grannies. They'll see your white hair and think you wandered off from the retirement home."
Fatality.
I'd been beheaded, publicly executed by a twelve-year-old, and defenestrated.
My head dropped in mock despair as Grassis pressed on, merciless.
"Master Reinhard, please make sure Ethan doesn't get lost or mugged. He seems like the kind of guy who'd get run over by a ground dragon within five minutes."
The hits kept coming.
I turned to Reinhard, praying for salvation. Surely my friend would step in.
"Haha, I'll make sure Ethan returns in one piece," he said without hesitation. "Even if I have to carry him myself. It'd be my honor."
'Et tu, Reinhard?'
Crushed and betrayed, I let my head hang as Reinhard gently guided me forward with a hand on my back. The twins called cheerful goodbyes, all the while giggling at my expense as we stepped into the light.
I was still mourning the brutal assassination of my ego.
The sun was already climbing high as we passed through the grand archway of the Astrea estate, its stone pillars casting long shadows over the front path. The air was warm and crisp, laced with the scent of dew and distant flowers, a perfect day to be dragged into unfamiliar territory.
We made our way down the winding road that led from the estate to the capital proper, Reinhard walking at a relaxed pace beside me. He didn't seem in a rush, which I appreciated. The quiet between us wasn't awkward; he never made it feel that way, it was companionable. Peaceful, even.
The estate gates closed gently behind us, and for a moment, I glanced back. That massive manor, once so imposing, now felt like something... familiar. A home, maybe. Or at least the beginning of one.
"You alright?" Reinhard asked, hands clasped behind his back as he walked.
"Yeah," I said. "Just thinking. It feels like my life changed so quickly, but here I am, still marching on."
He smiled at that, faint but genuine. "That's how life is sometimes. One step at a time, even if the road's unfamiliar."
As Rein and I lightly bantered and chatted our way deeper into the capital, I noticed that the city had changed since yesterday.
Or maybe it hadn't, and I had.
The crowds that felt stifling, isolating, like everybody was judging me, were now full of unique and interesting characters, like I could have an interesting chat with just about anyone, and I'd learn something new from them.
After winding through a few side roads and descending a wide stone staircase that curved gently down into the heart of the capital, the scenery bloomed into something completely new. Massive rows of buildings stretched out in every direction. Grand banners hung from wide storefronts, and vibrant awnings shaded cobblestone walkways packed with locals weaving between stalls, merchants, and café tables.
The central shopping district of the capital was alive.
It was the kind of place that even with an entire day and a proper battle plan, you'd still never cover even a fraction of it, but even at a glance, I could feel the magnetic pull of energy, color, and controlled chaos. Street performers juggled knives, musicians strummed strange stringed instruments, and hawkers pitched everything from fine silks to enchanted cookware that stirred itself.
And then it hit me, one after another, the signs above the shops and carts. I could read them.
Not all of them, but enough to make a difference.
"Fresh Bread — Still Warm!"
"Royal Tailor — Appointments Required."
"Artifacts & Oddities — Cursed Objects Half Off!"
Each one I could understand sparked a quiet, prideful grin. The others, still full of unfamiliar glyphs and characters, only added fuel to the fire.
'I'll read all of you soon. Just wait.'
Next to me, Reinhard was walking at a relaxed pace, letting me take it all in, his posture calm, almost like a local guide watching a tourist's first reaction.
"Welcome to the central district," he said softly, voice warm with amusement. "Try not to spend all your coin in the first five minutes."
I was about to make some kind of snarky comeback when a glint of light caught my eye, off a windowpane, maybe, and just past a cluster of shoppers in the crowd, I swore I saw someone in a tracksuit.
…But the figure turned a corner before I could confirm it.
Weird.
I blinked, shrugged it off, and focused on the flood of new experiences in front of me.
Turning down a different street, I was met with an even larger avenue than the one we'd been on, on one side of the street, neat little businesses were lined up and continued down for as far as I could see, on the other side were more of the smaller merchant stalls, in some patches, large colorful cloths had been hung up to provide shade for what looked like bazaars of merchant groups working together.
A myriad of different cultures were clashing here, some people spoke with different dialects, and it appeared to me that this area was something akin to the international trading area of the kingdom.
In the middle of the road, in a rather impressive display of public coordination, a steady stream of earth dragons carried cargo, and sometimes people, in two separate lanes, occasionally turning off the avenue into other streets, or delivering cargo to a merchant group.
Faced with the frankly overwhelming experience, I immediately thought of an idea.
'Reason and Judgement'
Click
Any anxiety or feelings of being overwhelmed vanished. What was left was an analytical and calm mind state. It was like I was playing a point-and-click adventure game on my computer.
'And why would I feel overwhelmed in a game?'
My perception stretched, sharpened. The crowd had frozen mid-step. Footsteps became ripples in the dust. Voices stretched into distorted echoes, like underwater shouts. A woman mid-sneeze looked like a statue, hand hovering comically near her nose.
And beneath the surface chaos, the threads emerged.
That guy faking a limp to draw pity and pickpocket a noblewoman. That merchant slipping a different apple to a distracted kid, one with a rotten core. That pair of cloaked travelers standing too still, watching too closely, mouths not moving but clearly communicating.
I saw the flicker of intent in eyes, the tension in shoulders, the greed in posture. I could tell which way someone would turn before their feet moved. Who was walking with purpose, and who was just following the flow.
The realization that, compared to yesterday, nobody had paid attention to my famous friend. It was as if he were suddenly just another person walking through the Capital.
'Perhaps he possesses some magical means of preventing recognition?'
I glanced at Reinhard, then mentally shrugged and went back to admiring the scenes.
I saw the city's heartbeat.
And for a moment… I felt like I could read the minds of everyone around me, not their thoughts, but their decisions. A hundred what-if paths. A hundred invisible choices weaving around me like threads in a tapestry.
This was now my domain, free only for me to peruse the goods.
And so, I did.
Ahead of me and Rein, walked a noble child and his stalwart bodyguard, the crowd seemed to flow around them.
A boy and a man, side by side, frozen like a portrait carved into the crowd.
The child stood just ahead. Hair too neat to have been combed by his own hands. The folds in his clothes were tight at the shoulders, loosened near the waist; he'd adjusted them slightly, trying to breathe easier without being scolded for slouching. His arms hung behind his back, not locked but held, like he was waiting for the chance to move without consequence.
His gaze pointed toward a street performer with a smile stretched wide and glowing orbs mid-juggle. But the boy's face?
Neutral.
His lips weren't pursed. They were suppressed. A crease at the corner of his mouth gave it away, just a hint of restrained expression. A want to smile. Denied.
The robe sleeves were just a bit long, concealing fidgeting fingers, but not quite. The faint tension in the fabric hinted at a twitch or a flex, captured mid-motion. The boy wasn't unaware of what he was watching. He was pretending not to care.
Not because he didn't care.
Because he thought he wasn't allowed to.
Behind him, the bodyguard.
Broad, armored, hand resting near, not on, the hilt of a sword. Guard stance, relaxed. Not parade posture. The kind of looseness that only comes from years of discipline.
But even in the stillness, the details shouted.
A slight lean, not away from the boy, but forward and outward. Protective angle. One foot planted harder than the other, like he'd been turning his weight in response to something. Threat? Noise? Something the boy didn't notice.
On the inner wrist of his armor, a barely visible notch, old, rust-stained. Blade nick from a past fight, likely close-range, aimed for his charge and blocked without hesitation.
His expression was impassive. But his gaze wasn't. Not focused on any one thing, no, he was scanning. Had been scanning. I could see it in the slight furrow of the brow, the micro-shift in tension around the eyes. Always alert. Always assessing.
And the scar under his jaw, faded but deep, earned. Not proud of it. Not hiding it. Just living with it.
I didn't know where they came from.
But in that instant, I understood them.
The boy was being shaped into something cold and sharp. The man was a sword already drawn, always waiting to cut down what got too close.
My eyes shifted again.
Near the edge of a square, half-shadowed beneath an alley's arch, stood a cloaked priest. A bald man in a dark robe, silver trim, neat hem, spotless. One hand clutched a rosary, held perfectly still. The other rested gently over the first.
But his body gave him away.
His back was straight, not reverent. His chin tilted just enough to see beneath his lowered brow. Not meditative. Calculating.
His jaw was tight on one side, relaxed on the other, muscles unevenly clenched, betraying inner tension. Not from prayer. From control.
The rosary beads were worn down in uneven intervals, only a few had the polish of frequent handling. A performance piece, not a sacred tool.
The angle of his stance placed his left foot pointed slightly outward, not toward the crowd, but toward the alley next to him. An escape route.
His eyelids were half-shut, but in the stillness, I could trace the lines of tension around the socket, see the faint crow's feet from habitual squinting. Not age. Focus. Years of watching people without reacting.
There was a smudge on the underside of his sleeve. Ink. Fresh.
He'd written something down today. Not scripture.
A confession?
A secret?
A name?
There were too many rings hidden beneath his sleeve. Gold. White gold. He'd taken vows once, sure. But that was a different man. A dead man. The current version wore the same clothes but not the same soul.
He knew secrets. He traded in them. Not words, he wasn't a speaker. He listened. People talked to him because of his collar, never knowing it wasn't faith he was offering, it was leverage.
Today, he'd learn something that would buy him another year of silence.
Next year, he'd sell it.
I couldn't prove any of it. Perhaps my deductions were off.
But standing there, frozen in time… it felt undeniably true.
The pulse of the world slowed… and then returned.
I let Reason and Judgment fade.
The market moved again. Voices sharpened into distinct conversations. Sunlight warmed the street instead of slicing it into angles. I inhaled, long and steady, and let the real world catch up with me.
The buzz lingered. The kind of high that came after clarity. My footing felt stronger. My head lighter.
"You're walking differently," Reinhard said, tone casual, but his eyes had been watching. "Back a little straighter. Like you suddenly realized you have to act formally at a dinner party."
I gave him a grin and shrugged.
"The afterglow of Reason and Judgement, lots of people here, figured I'd go people watching."
"Did you see anything interesting?" he asked with his eyes now scanning the crowd a little harder.
"Nah, just pickpockets, a shady priest, and a noble kid." I replied, then a grin hit my face as I leaned into him, "Nothing world-ending, if that's what you feared."
"I'm relieved to hear that the capital will still be standing by the end of the day." He replied back with a grin.
We continued like that for a while, me tossing out commentary like a tour guide who'd read the wrong script, and Rein humoring me like a patient older brother. I pointed at a merchant trying to sell what looked suspiciously like dried lizard tails as a miracle remedy for baldness.
Reinhard raised an eyebrow, half-intrigued. "Do you think it works?"
"In the far future," I said solemnly, twirling a strand of my newly white hair, "God, I hope it does."
A few more paces brought us to a man aggressively haggling with a child over the price of a wooden mask. I threw my arms up. "Behold, capitalism in action."
Reinhard's laugh came soft, almost indulgent. "I can't tell if you're enjoying this… or slowly losing your mind."
"Yes," I said flatly, without missing a beat.
Eventually, the street began to widen again, and the tempo of foot traffic slowed. Just ahead, tucked slightly off the main avenue, was a cozy café marked by a polished wooden sign swinging gently in the breeze. It smelled like spiced tea and fresh pastries, and after all that walking, I was more than interested in both.
Reinhard glanced at me, then toward the shop. "Would you like to stop for something?"
"Eh, only if you're hungry, Rein. But I won't lie, whatever they're baking in there smells amazing."
He smiled, then motioned ahead with a graceful sweep. "Then let's take a break and investigate the source of these delicious scents."
I wouldn't argue against that.
We stepped under the café's shaded awning and into a small courtyard garden, where tables sat nestled between planters overflowing with herbs and sun-tinged flowers. The atmosphere shifted from the bustle of the market to a kind of warm serenity, the hum of voices mellowed to a pleasant background murmur.
A server approached and led us to a table near the edge of the patio. I caught the faint scent of orange peel and cinnamon in the air.
Reinhard sat with the posture of someone who could leap across the table if needed, and I slouched like someone who might nap in his teacup.
When the waitress arrived, he ordered something gentle. I mirrored him again, and with a nod, she vanished to fetch our drinks.
The moment breathed.
I leaned back in my chair and exhaled. "This is... nice."
Rein glanced toward the crowd just beyond the café's arch. "It is."
And just as I turned to follow his gaze—
Movement.
A flicker of black, orange, white, and gold.
Some guy stepping around a corner following someone in white, just far enough to catch my peripheral vision, just familiar enough in silhouette to pull at something in the back of my head.
I blinked. The moment passed.
I let it go. The tea would be here soon.
The waitress returned with two porcelain cups and a tray of golden-brown scones, steam curling off the surface of the tea like the morning mist. Reinhard offered her a polite thank-you and waited until she was out of earshot before speaking again.
He rested his hands on the table, one over the other. "Ethan," he said gently, "have you thought about what you want to do in this world yet?"
The question landed softer than I expected, like he wasn't trying to interrogate me, just... open the door.
I looked down at my tea for a moment, watching the ripples settle. Then I smiled.
"You said you were a royal knight, right, Rein? Then maybe that's what I wanna be."
He blinked, just once, but didn't interrupt.
"I mean, with my new powers, I could be like your really perceptive sidekick or something. Just think of it—" I leaned forward, gesturing dramatically, "—you and me, rolling through the Kingdom of Lugunica, stopping crime wherever it hides!"
Reinhard chuckled, the sound warm and honest. "I can already imagine it."
But the more I spoke, the less it felt like a joke. The more it settled. Solidified.
"Back home, I'd never been much of the athletic type," I admitted, leaning back in my chair. "But I always respected the people who kept others safe. Sheriffs, firefighters... folks who had to step in when things went bad. I wanted to do something like that, y'know? But there was always that wall, no training, no real drive, nothing pushing me."
My gaze lifted, locking with his, and I lightly leaned forward.
"But here… with the Authority? With everything I've seen already? I think I could do something. Not just stand on the sidelines."
Reinhard's expression grew thoughtful, his head tilting just slightly as he listened. No pity. No patronizing nods. Just genuine attention.
"I wanna stand on the front lines too," I continued, quieter now. "I wanna be someone who makes a difference. Even if I've got to work my ass off to get there."
There it was. That spark deep in my chest, shining sharp like a freshly drawn blade.
A goal.
A reason to move forward.
Reinhard took a slow sip of his tea, eyes still on me. When he set the cup down, his smile had softened, turned a little more solemn.
"I think… that's a beautiful goal, Ethan."
He looked out the café arch, where a pair of guards passed by in the street, chatting easily between patrols.
"But being a knight isn't just about strength. Or power. It's about who you protect when no one else will. About what you stand for when it'd be easier to look away."
His gaze returned to mine.
"You've already got the heart for it. That's the part you can't teach."
I blinked at that. Of all things, I hadn't expected Reinhard van Astrea, the Sword Saint himself, to call me knight material.
"But," he added gently, "you'll have to train your body to keep up with your will. There will be times when power isn't enough. Where what matters is endurance. Patience. Choosing mercy over pride."
I nodded slowly, taking that in.
He leaned forward slightly, folding his hands.
"If you want this, truly want it, I'll help you every step of the way. Training, learning, everything. You won't walk that path alone."
I smiled at him, a little stunned. A little grateful.
"Thanks, Rein. I mean it."
"You don't have to thank me," he said, the corner of his mouth tilting upward again. "After all… what kind of partner would I be if I let my sidekick fall behind?"
That got a laugh out of me.
"You're never gonna let me live that down, huh?"
He sipped his tea again, eyes dancing with warmth.
"Not a chance."