The door creaked open, releasing a wave of thick, suffocating dust that assaulted my nose.
"—Ack! Cough, cough! Achoo!"
"Lord Ronnie! Are you alright?" Carla, standing dutifully behind me, rushed to pat my back.
"Y-Yeah... just wasn't expecting it to be this bad," I wheezed, waving away the cloud of dust.
Her voice trembled with concern. "This... this can't be right! Surely there's been a mistake. My room is better suited than—than this!"
"It's no mistake," I said, cutting her off with a dry laugh. "To Father, it hardly matters where I sleep. Out of sight, out of mind, right?"
"B-But—what if we asked for permission to find a better room? Surely—"
I stepped into the so-called "room" before she could finish, my shoes kicking up another puff of grime. Heavy layers of dust coated the wooden floor like a forgotten snowfall, and mismatched furniture stood in haphazard piles. Pots, old furnishings, and objects of uncertain purpose littered every corner.
"No need," I said. My gaze lingered on a peculiar figurine—some grotesque creature that might've been a frog. Or a cat? Hard to tell. "Grab a broom and a rag. We'll need a bucket too. Looks like the window's rusted shut—ugh."
"B-But, Lord Ronnie!" Carla protested, her hands fluttering in distress. "You don't need to settle for this! Why not choose somewhere else? Anywhere else?"
"I'm staying," I declared, cutting off her protest.
"W-Why?!"
She gawked as I picked through the junk, determination etched into my face.
"You heard Father. He said I could do as I pleased with this room's contents. Well then, I'm taking him at his word. All these dusty antiques? I'll find a use for them."
"Sell them?!" Carla gasped, her face blanching. "But—what if someone notices? What if they get mad?"
I smiled, lifting a misshapen ceramic creature. "No one's noticed these things for years, Carla. Trust me, the moment something here vanishes, no one will care. Besides, I have your testimony, don't I?"
"I—I don't like this," she muttered, wringing her hands. "But I'll fetch the cleaning supplies."
"Good girl."
The estate was expansive, its grandeur matched only by its inefficiency. The three-story building boasted a central courtyard, sprawling gardens, and a backyard shielded by dense hedges. All of it styled after classic European manors—a picturesque symbol of wealth, but more trouble than it was worth.
Despite its scale, the layout made my current circumstances clear: important people stayed in the main building, overlooking the garden. I, meanwhile, had been relegated to the farthest corner of the east wing.
If you wanted a visual representation of how much someone mattered, this setup was perfect.
But that wasn't my concern. No, what caught my eye were the so-called "antiques" filling this forgotten storeroom.
I held up the ceramic monstrosity again. "Even this creepy thing has to be worth something."
"Are you sure it's okay?" Carla whispered nervously, her wide eyes darting toward the door.
"I've already told you—it's fine. Father himself said I could do whatever I wanted with this room and its contents. If anyone questions it, you're my witness."
Carla sighed, defeated. "Fine, but I'm bringing a broom first."
We spent the entire day cleaning, sorting, and salvaging. Dust swirled endlessly as we scrubbed, wiped, and organized. From the heaps of forgotten treasures emerged all sorts of items: jars, clothing, weapons, books, furniture, and bizarre knick-knacks.
By the time we were done, the room resembled something livable. I'd even managed to set aside a few promising items for sale.
My clothes were filthy, my muscles ached, and Carla looked as though she'd aged sixty years with cobwebs clinging to her hair.
"Maybe I'll skip dinner tonight," I muttered, collapsing into a newly dust-free chair.
As I drifted off to sleep, a thought struck me: Johan still hadn't woken up. Whatever had happened during his duel with Marduk, it wasn't as simple as mana exhaustion. Something else must've occurred in that final moment—something I hadn't seen.
The mystery lingered in my mind as sleep pulled me under.
"Lord Ronnie."
"Mm... five more minutes."
"Lord Ronnie, please wake up."
"Five more years," I mumbled, pulling the blanket over my head.
"Lord Ronnie, it's already six in the morning!" Carla's sharp voice finally cut through my grogginess. I blinked up at her, disoriented.
"Six...?" I turned to the window. The faint light of dawn painted the sky pale blue, birds flitting across the horizon.
"I was up late yesterday!" I groaned, burrowing back under the covers. "Surely I've earned a bit more sleep."
Carla sighed, exasperated. "Lord Ronnie, you're the one who asked me to wake you for the morning market!"
"...Ah." Realization hit, and I bolted upright.
"You're right! Good call, Carla!" I said, throwing on a coat.
She sniffed, adjusting her freshly cleaned dress. "Unlike you, I'm punctual. Not that it mattered much during last night's... incident."
"Incident?"
Carla raised a brow. "Lord Ronnie, you really didn't notice? You were the only person in this entire manor who managed to sleep through last night's commotion!"
"...Huh." I scratched my head, still bleary.
"Never mind," she said, waving it off. "The cart's ready by the back entrance. Shall we?"
"Let's move before anyone starts asking questions," I said, grabbing the handle of the cart we'd loaded with antiques the night before.
As Carla and I made our way through the hall, a familiar voice called out from behind.
"Lord Ronnie?"
We both froze. Turning, I saw Lady Fiolette standing at the end of the corridor. Her expression was a mix of curiosity and exhaustion, dark circles underlining her elegant features.
"Lady Fiolette," I greeted, trying not to sound guilty. "What brings you here so early?"
"I could ask the same," she replied, her voice soft but pointed. "Why are you headed out with a cart at this hour?"
Her gaze lingered on the covered cart, and Carla shrank behind me, bowing nervously.
"Just a quick errand in town," I said smoothly. "I'll explain later. For now, I must be off."
Before I could move, Fiolette stepped closer, her curiosity clearly piqued.
"May I join you?"
"...What?"
Her request caught me off guard, and for a moment, I just stared at her.
"I... don't think that's necessary," I stammered.
She tilted her head, a faint smile playing at her lips. "I insist."