The first thing I felt was cold.
Bone-deep, marrow-chilling cold.
I was also tired… and hurt.
Every fiber of my existence throbbed in agony, even the parts of me I hadn't known could feel pain.
It was a deep, searing ache, as though my body had been mercilessly torn apart and then hastily stitched back together.
"Arghh!"
A raw, guttural groan clawed its way out of my dry throat as I opened my eyes.
There was a white ceiling above me – polished and metallic, unlike the drab, clinical ceiling of the hospital room I expected to see.
…Where was I?
I grunted again, trying to lift myself upright, but my body had no strength at all.
I fell back against the mattress with a soft thud, my limbs too heavy to move.
My hand drifted to my abdomen, fingers brushing over the spot where my father had driven that dagger into me.
But there was no pain, not anymore.
I hesitated, then pulled up my shirt, expecting to find a scar or something.
But my skin was smooth and unmarred. There was no wound, not even a mark or a faint line.
The place still ached to touch, though. Phantom pain.
The memory of getting stabbed, the cold steel slicing through my flesh and piercing my organs, sent a shiver down my spine.
I breathed in sharply, the air catching in my throat as I raised my hands to feel my face next.
Everything on my face felt sore to the touch, but my skin felt intact, not the swollen, misshapen, bandaged mess I had feared it might be.
It was smooth. Soft. Just as I remembered.
I let out a long, shaky breath, relief mingling with confusion.
Where in the hell was I?
With great effort, I managed to move my head, looking at my surroundings.
The bed beneath me was king-sized, wrapped in soft cashmere blankets that felt both heavy and comforting.
The walls around me were upholstered in fine leather, a soft cream color that blended seamlessly with the rich, dark wood accents lining the corners of the cabin.
Recessed lighting along the arched ceiling above cast a gentle, warm golden glow.
To my right, a sleek marble countertop ran the length of the cabin, equipped with a compact kitchenette.
Directly ahead, the plush carpeting gave way to polished hardwood floors leading into what I guessed was a lounge area.
"Huh?" I muttered to myself.
This certainly didn't look like any hospital room I'd ever seen. In fact, it looked more like…
I was trying to make sense of it all when a sudden jolt shook the room, causing me to clutch the edge of the bed in panic.
An earthquake?
No. Couldn't be.
Turbulence!
My eyes widened in realization.
Wait. No way! Was I in a—
The door connecting the lounge to the cabin swung open, interrupting my thoughts.
A girl walked in, her steps light and fluid. She wore black parachute pants and a white bardot top.
Her hair, as white as untouched snow, fell down to the base of her neck gentle waves, framing her delicate features.
Her gaze met mine, and her lips curled into a polite, practiced smile that never quite reached her icy blue eyes.
"...Oh. I see that you are awake, Young Master."
This felt like a bad déjà vu.
"Where the hell am I?" I demanded, my voice rough and loud, as another wave of turbulence rocked us.
Juliana drew a deep breath and shrugged. "We're about forty thousand feet above ground... in one of your private jets. In fact, we only took off a few hours ago."
•••
Now it all made sense – the opulent surroundings, the turbulence, the slight change in air pressure that had numbed my ears.
We were on my private jet. The last one still bearing my name.
Yes, I was wealthy enough to own personal planes. Several of them, in fact! Go ahead, sue me!
Now that I thought about it, I remembered…
This particular jet was a gift from one of our vassal clan's patriarchs on my sixteenth birthday last year. A generous present, but one I never got around to using.
Oh! But that also reminded me…
"Juli," I called out to my Shadow, who was busy fiddling with the espresso machine in the kitchenette.
The white-haired beauty turned, her eyes as flat and unfeeling as her voice. "Yes, Young Master?"
A serious expression settled on my face… for all of two seconds before it cracked and I was on the verge of throwing a full-blown tantrum.
"My money! They'll take all my money! Do something!" I shouted.
I didn't care about losing the duel or being beaten half to death.
I couldn't care less about being disowned by my family.
Sure, I'd lost the influence I once held as the Duke's son, but what could I do about it? What was done was done.
But my money… my sweet, sweet money! I couldn't bear to lose that! Without it, I was nothing but a commoner!
A very good-looking, exceptionally handsome commoner, sure, but still – a lowly fucking peasant!
If I couldn't flaunt my wealth, then what was the point of my existence?!
Before I could dissolve into a sobbing mess over my potential financial ruin, Juliana's exasperated sigh broke through my thoughts.
She turned around and began preparing a cup of mocha I had asked her for, her movements precise and unhurried.
"Calm down, Young Master. I've already contacted a legal firm specializing in asset protection. Their lawyers will help you mitigate your losses. I also withdrew significant funds from most of your accounts before they were frozen."
She paused for a moment, then continued, her tone as steady as ever.
"I've given the firm a list of all the non-essential properties in your name. They will liquidate them as quickly as possible, before the clan seizes them. All your online investments have been divested, and most of your liquid assets have been moved to offshore accounts or converted to safe havens. The firm will also establish several trusts and shell companies to shield your remaining assets."
There was another short pause before I heard her sigh. She turned around to face me again from the kitchenette and resumed speaking:
"This jet and some of your other valuables are secure because they were in your name, not bought with clan money. But legally sanitizing the rest of the money for your use will take time. You may not have access to most of your funds for several months. Perhaps a full year."
This… this was already far better than I could have hoped for.
"...When did you even manage all this?" I asked, genuinely impressed.
"I began planning as soon as you accepted the Duke's challenge," she replied calmly.
Right. I'd almost forgotten about her knack for foresight.
The moment I'd agreed to that duel, she'd started strategizing to minimize the fallout. Cool-headed and calculating even in the face of uncertainty.
Truly brilliant.
Yes, someone like her would definitely be useful to me in the future.
…But wait!
"Hey, wait a second. You said you withdrew funds from my accounts, Juli? How did you even know my passcodes?" I asked, raising an accusing eyebrow.
For the first time since I had known her, Juliana seemed caught off guard.
A flicker of something passed over her face before she coughed awkwardly and shrugged. "...Would you believe me if I said you told me once when you were drunk?"
W-Wait a minute!
I remembered now!
In one of the game's routes, during the Class Excursion arc, when Samael died early at the hands of the protagonist… Juliana stole all his wealth!
T-This audacious gold digger! She had her eyes on my money from the start!
•••
Ahhh!
I was furious!
But then… I supposed it had all worked out in my favor.
Still, note to self – never trust this woman with money! Especially my money!
"Anyway," Juliana walked over with the mocha, placing the cup carefully on the small table beside the bed. "Here you go."
Mustering my strength, I tried to sit up again. Pain shot through me like bolts of electricity, forcing a raw, agonizing cry from my lips.
"Arghh, it feels like everything's broken. And like I've been sleeping for days," I muttered, struggling against the pain.
I wish I was exaggerating.
My ribs ached, my right hand barely moved, and the light in my left eye seemed dimmer than usual. I couldn't even close my jaw completely.
"That's because you sort of were sleeping for days," Juliana noted matter-of-factly, helping me sit up. "You were unconscious for almost two days."
...Huh?!
What the hell?!
Wait!
"S-Sorry, I forgot to ask," I stammered. "Why are we even in my jet? Where are we going?"
"Where else?" she replied as if the answer was obvious. "To the Ascent Isles. The entrance exam for Apex Academy begins in four days."