"Good morning, Young Lord. You're up early today."
Iria entered the room with a tray in hand, carrying a cup of herbal tea she brought daily.
"Morning."
Seven didn't like the taste, especially the one yesterday.
It tasted pretty strong.
But if it was to strengthen his pale and fragile body, he would drink seven thousand of them.
"Uhm… Young Lord? What are you—"
"Getting this off."
He was busy scrubbing the cyan-colored nail polish to even spare Iria a single glance.
"Trying to be presentable, huh? I guess a fiancée is—"
"I'm not. They just looked weird."
Iria raised a brow before putting down the cup of tea on the desk, gently. She then walked towards the window, raised the curtains, and opened it.
'Beautiful.'
Iria thought as she stared at the sky, matching the color of Seven's nail.
After a moment, Iria walked towards Seven and crouched beside him with a smirk.
"They're not weird though."
"Yes, they are."
"No, it's cute!"
"They are."
"Young lord, it's—"
He looked directly at Iria's eyes. But as he did, his gaze wandered to the system window floating above Iria's head.
[…Dickhead. Iria put them on you.]
Shifting his gaze back to Iria, he sighed.
"I'll let you put them on again tomorrow."
Iria didn't reply. She simply stood up, giggling, and walked towards the door.
But deep inside, she thought:
'Hehehe! How cute…'
Now, Seven was left alone in his room once again, busy scrubbing the nail polish off his nails.
'Better.'
He smiled, admiring his now polish-free fingernails.
Glancing up at the empty air where the system window was moments ago, he frowned.
'Was it watching me this whole time?'
With a sly grin, he ran a hand through his hair.
"System, what's the date today?"
Silence.
The system window didn't appear.
'Hah, I knew it. It really is watching me.'
If it wasn't, then it would've responded by now.
Sigh.
After a deep breath, Seven stood and walked to the desk.
Herbal tea.
In the novel, it was described as bland—something people appreciated for its simplicity.
But the tea he drank daily, the one Iria brought him, was anything but bland.
Still, he can't be choosy. Instead, He held the cup to his face and gulped it down in one go.
'Fudge it. I'll figure it out later.'
Placing the cup down, Seven walked to the window. He gazed at the estate below, its size isn't even half of what could be called a dukedom.
It was more like a town, with a grand mansion standing at the center.
"Whatever.'
Grabbing his wallet, Seven headed out the door.
"Not a bad idea to see her face before the official meeting."
***
Seven walked through the bustling crowd.
Despite being fully exposed with no hood to hide his face, no one seemed to recognize him.
'It's a good thing, but somehow… it's irritating.'
He couldn't blame the citizens, though. The original Seven had rarely, if ever, left the mansion grounds.
Even among his siblings, including the Archduke himself, his father, Seven was the only one with blackish-brown hair instead of the household's signature: platinum.
Step.
Turning left, Seven found himself in a small merchant district. Though the "dukedom" was small in scale, it was thriving.
Being the only independent household free from the control of the Seventh Kingdom, it attracted merchants and villagers from scattered settlements across the continent.
It helped that the taxes here were significantly lower.
"Mister! Handsome mister!"
A cheerful voice called out from a nearby stall.
"Come take a look! I've got the finest swords in the market!"
Seven approached out of curiosity. There was a stockpile of swords displayed at the stall.
Their fancy designs sparkled in the light, but they looked like they would shatter after just a few swings.
"What do you think? They're cool, right?"
The merchant leaned in with an eager grin.
Sigh.
Seven sighed. Though any ordinary person might have been persuaded by the merchant's enthusiasm, but not him.
Having read the novel and seen the descriptions of legendary swords, he was unimpressed.
Even without that knowledge, his instincts told him these swords were subpar.
He locked his gaze on the merchant with a deadpan expression.
"You're advertising swords to a pale, thin, fifteen-year-old kid?"
The merchant faltered, and his grin faded as he took a proper look at Seven, whose pale skin and frail build were undeniable.
The man rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
"Ah… well…"
To be fair, only half of Seven's words held weight.
In this world, it wasn't uncommon for fifteen-year-olds to already be proficient in magic or swordsmanship.
It was just that his fragile appearance made the suggestion absurd.
Step.
Seven wandered through the other districts.
It was his first time stepping foot outside the estate, and although everything was new to him, nothing truly stood out.
The streets and buildings were exactly as one would expect from a small dukedom, which was a typical setting straight out of a novel.
Except for one building.
The Mercenary Hall.
Normally, such halls were massive structures. These were places where people sought protection, swordsmen and mages gathered to accept quests, and mercenaries who didn't engage in the wars between continents found work slaying wild monsters or guarding caravans.
But this one? It was small.
Unlike the grandeur expected of a Mercenary Hall, it seemed unimpressive.
That made sense.
It was merely a branch of the main hall of the Seventh Kingdom, probably to keep close eyes on the Harts.
The mercenary guild of the Seventh Kingdom was only one among the seven continents not named after one of the seven Gods.
Its reputation was controversial, even in the novel.
Seven's gaze lingered on the building for a moment.
"Well, this could be interesting."
Step.
As Seven walked toward the Mercenary Hall, he passed a quiet stall with no customers.
It was a small medicine stall, and the smell of herbs hung in the air.
'Might be better than drinking that herb tea every day.'
The vendor was an elderly woman, hunched over with a curved back as she ground herbs into a cup.
"Erm… excuse me?"
Seven pointed at a small ball that looked like a pill.
Normally, the system would have appeared to describe it, but after his earlier interaction, he noticed the system was staying silent.
"What is this?"
The old lady didn't even look up at him.
"Ahh, buzz off. You're the seventh one today. I don't sell to lads like you."
Seven frowned, unsure if he was being ignored or dismissed.
"What do you mean?"
"I only sell to those who need it. Not to mercenaries like—"
"I'm not a mercenary."
She paused mid-sentence, then turned to glance at him. Her eyes flicked over his pale skin, slender frame, and saggy eyes.
A boy who looked like he was on the brink of dying.
The woman's gaze softened slightly as she grabbed a handful of what seemed to be pills and placed them into a small jar.
"Vitalis Pills. It helps nullify toxins inside your body."
Then, she grabbed another handful.
"Might help you develop muscles."
Seven, locking his gaze at the old woman, ran a hand through his hair. Though he wanted to buy them, he didn't mean this much.
'That's too many…'
He instinctively clutched his wallet.
'I only have 10 Sevtals to spare.'