Part 1
A few minutes later, Lydia appeared at his side with a small, polite cough, looking every bit the conscientious governess who had known him—so she believed—all his life.
"Master Philip," she said, her voice gentler now that he'd had time to acclimate to his new surroundings. "Shall we tour the estate? You should see the grounds before nightfall."
He exhaled, remembering the endless corridors, the hidden corners of the manor, and the unexpected encounter with that breathtaking blonde whose smile still rattled his thoughts. He wondered if Lydia, who seemed to know him so well, could explain who the mysterious woman was. Yet each time he considered asking, something about Lydia's careful demeanor suggested she might clam up—or worse, mistake his questions for signs of distress.
"All right," Philip said at last. "Please lead the way."
They descended a wide stone staircase that opened into a courtyard. Weathered cobblestones formed a patchwork of cracks and missing chunks—likely in need of expensive repairs. A crisp breeze ruffled his hair as they stepped outside, carrying the faint scent of distant fields and horse manure.
"This entire property," Lydia began, gesturing to the land that stretched far beyond the manor, "amounts to roughly ten thousand acres. Once, it was considered a gem of Yorgoria—worth a fortune." She paused, somewhat wistfully. "But… times change. I'm sure you remember how it used to be."
Philip nearly blurted that he had no clue. He caught himself, offering a tight smile instead. "Right… of course."
If ten thousand acres were once a gem, it now looked more like a tarnished pebble. He noted dilapidated barns, weed-choked fields, and a half-dead orchard drooping in the distance. He also couldn't help recalling the lone blonde in that lavish room upstairs—why was everyone so evasive about her? Lydia had carefully avoided mentioning it earlier, as though the subject was taboo.
They passed through a sagging gate leading to a dirt lane flanked by rows of meager cottages. A few local villagers—mostly women—were busy mending fences or tending small gardens. As Lydia introduced him as the "Young Master," Philip was surprised to see a flurry of curtsies and shy glances.
One dark-haired girl in a plain but neatly patched dress approached, dipping her head. "Greetings, Master Philip," she said, her accent thick. "We heard you weren't well, so I'm glad to see you up."
Philip scratched the back of his neck, feeling the weight of these new social rules. "Er, thank you. I'm… feeling better now."
Another woman with rosy cheeks giggled behind her. "If you need help exploring the grounds, Master, we know every shortcut in the orchard." Her suggestion came with a playful wink that turned Philip's face a light shade of pink.
He coughed, trying not to stare at her smile. For a brief moment, the heaviness of his situation lifted, and he almost forgot he was supposed to be the old Philip who'd been here for years. Lydia cleared her throat pointedly.
"We mustn't keep the Master from his other duties," she said, her tone just polite enough to send the villagers scurrying. They offered hasty curtsies, chattering excitedly among themselves as Philip and Lydia moved on.
He couldn't help but grin despite the tension. "Well, that wasn't so bad," he said. "At least people here acknowledge my existence."
"It's a far cry from what it once was," Lydia replied with a measured smile, as though referencing the estate's old glory. "Some traces of grandeur remain, but once you see the industrial eyesore…"
She led him beyond the cottages to a large, fenced-off area that reeked of stagnant water. Rusted machinery poked through collapsed walls, and a thick film covered the puddles pooling in the yard.
"What… happened here?" Philip asked, pressing a sleeve to his nose.
"An Avalondian company leased part of our land to build a factory," Lydia explained. "They promised modernization and profit. Instead, they shut down after a few short years, leaving behind pollution and broken promises."
Philip wrinkled his nose at the chemical stench. "Lovely. So now we have worthless, contaminated property on top of everything else?"
"Sadly, yes," Lydia sighed. "Repairs or cleanup would cost a fortune we do not possess."
He gazed around, half appalled and half amused. In his old world, he'd have read articles about corporations doing exactly this. Now, ironically, he was the poor schmuck stuck dealing with the aftermath.
"Let's head back," Lydia suggested gently, noticing how pale he looked at the industrial mess. "There's… much to do, but you needn't see it all at once."
Philip nodded numbly, but his mind kept drifting to the mystery of that blonde woman. Why was everyone acting like she didn't exist—or if she did, that she was off-limits? He considered asking Lydia right then, but the pinched look on her face convinced him to wait. Clearly, she thought he was still the same troubled Philip who'd nearly drowned from heartbreak.
Part 2
When they returned to the manor, the late-afternoon sun cast golden rays across the inner courtyard. From a distance, it almost looked picturesque—if one ignored the chipped statues and overgrown hedges. By the time they reached the hallway leading to his study, Philip felt unexpectedly hopeful. Despite all these problems—pollution, dilapidated barns, and the leftover heartbreak from Lady Rosetta—the estate might have potential.
He settled into a high-backed chair in the study. The room smelled faintly of old leather and pipe smoke, an aroma that was strangely comforting. A beam of sunlight lit up motes of dust dancing in the air. For the first time all day, Philip allowed himself to exhale and think, Maybe this isn't so bad.
Then a voice—clear as day—whispered in his ear:
"Philip… dear host… can you hear me?"
He jumped, nearly toppling out of the chair. "W-who said that?"
Nobody else was in the study. The door was closed.
Don't tell me this estate is haunted, too!
"Over here," the voice teased.
He glanced around wildly. "Am I going crazy?"
In the blink of an eye, a swirl of shimmering light pulsed near his bookshelf. He stared, heart hammering. The light coalesced into a figure—a tall, busty woman with raven hair spilling over bare shoulders. She wore… a bunny costume? Long ears, a fluffy tail, fishnet stockings, the works. Philip's jaw dropped so hard it practically unhinged.
"M-miss…?" was all he managed to sputter.
The woman pouted, crossing her arms under a shockingly generous bosom. "I didn't mean to scare you. I hope my appearance isn't too frightening. I tried my best to make it pleasing to the eyes." Her gaze flicked downward.
Philip followed her eyes—his cheeks blazed as he realized his body was definitely responding. Then a sudden wave of heat rushed to his face, and next thing he knew, blood trickled from his nose.
She gasped. "Oh dear! You're hemorrhaging. I swear I didn't intend to cause that reaction."
He clamped a hand over his nose, mortified. "What… who are you?"
"I am your 'System' or 'Guide,' whichever term you prefer," she explained hurriedly, glancing nervously at the blood. "I wanted a form that would be pleasing to you, but I didn't realize it might be lethal."
Suddenly, her entire shape shimmered again. In place of the voluptuous woman now stood a giant white rabbit, complete with big eyes and a soft belly. Its fluffy tail wiggled anxiously.
Philip froze, pinching his nose. "What the…?"
The giant rabbit twitched its pink nose. "I'm so sorry," it said, voice unchanged despite the cutesy form. "I had no idea your body would be so sensitive. Don't bleed to death, okay?"
He mumbled through his sleeve, "I'll be fine, I think. This is just… a bit much."
She looked away, ears drooping. "I only wanted to greet you in a friendly manner. Let me guess: you have questions?"
He was about to nod when the rabbit turned to leave. "I-I'll come back when you're calmer," she said sadly.
"Wait," he said, blood still dripping a bit. "Don't go. I can handle this. Just… no more bunny-girl, please."
The giant rabbit blinked, then gave an uncertain nod. "If you insist…"
She hopped closer, big eyes shining. "This is my first time serving as a Guide, so bear with me." Flapping her furry arms around in embarrassment, she continued, "Your overarching mission is to cultivate a familiar that can unlock the next stage of your journey. But there are urgent matters that demand your immediate attention, and I figured we should talk about them too."
The rabbit cleared her throat—somehow—and a translucent, glowing panel materialized in midair:
Repair Your Reputation: Handle the fallout from your canceled engagement to Lady Rosetta and mitigate rumors of shady dealings.
Resolve Tax Debts: The estate's collapsed investment business left hefty sums owed, neglected ever since heartbreak derailed your predecessor.
Prove Your Sanity: Convince the local psychiatric examiners that you're fit to manage the estate without an externally appointed trustee.
Regain Your Health: High blood pressure, heart issues, and the double whammy of social and financial ruin—plus attempted assassinations—are wearing you down dangerously.
Address Environmental Contamination: The estate's soil, water, and air are polluted by that ill-fated Avalondian industry venture.
Meet Your Military Obligations: As a captain under Colonel Wolfram in the district of Sorodeng, you must avoid being discharged for previous misconduct.
Host a Royal Guest: The Duke expects you to prepare for the arrival of the King of Osgor's great-grandson; failure could result in the Duke removing you from your position of trustee of this estate.
"There are many other tasks too extensive to show on one screen," the rabbit admitted, eyes widening. "Suffice it to say you're in trouble."
Philip stared at the flickering panel. "That's… a lot."
She patted his arm consolingly. "Yes, but remember: you have only one true mission—cultivating a familiar to unlock your next stage. The rest are tasks whose completion helps keep you alive and builds your foundation for success in this world."
"So what's my reward for handling all these, aside from possibly not dying?" Philip asked, dabbing at the last of the blood under his nose.
"Well… you'll earn a 'foothold' in this life. If you fail, you could really die here. And, you know, your old world's body is six feet under already," she said softly. "So, survival is a decent perk, right?"
He grimaced. "That's it?"
"Also, you get the companionship of your familiar," she added. "With time, it could grant you the key to genuine power, happiness, and a meaningful life. Cultivating it is the price for your second chance."
Philip leaned back, mind swirling with frustration and grim amusement. "So I basically got a mountain of tasks, no special abilities, and a bunny system that's as new at this as I am."
She nodded, wiggling her nose. "I'll do my best, but… yes."
Before he could fire off more questions—like why there were assassination attempts or why the estate was so chaotic—she sighed. "Sorry, the screen's too small to display everything in detail. Maybe you should take a moment to absorb all this."
He let out a weary chuckle. "Yeah, I probably should."
She bowed slightly, big bunny ears flopping. "I'll vanish for now, but call me if you need me."
And with that, the giant rabbit disappeared in a burst of sparkles, leaving Philip alone in the quiet study, heart pounding and head spinning.
He wiped away the last trace of blood. The swirl of new responsibilities threatened to overwhelm him, but a tiny glimmer of excitement sparked in his chest. He'd asked for another chance at life—this was it, in all its messy, absurd glory.
"Maybe," he mused with a shaky grin, "this is exactly the second chance I asked for."
He leaned back in the chair, letting the reality sink in. One step at a time… starting with not bleeding out every time the System tried a new costume.
Still dazed, he decided to get some air—and perhaps walk off the lingering tension in his limbs. He left the study, mind swirling with the tasks ahead. Without thinking, he meandered through corridors lined with old portraits, half the faces seeming to scowl disapprovingly at him.
Eventually, he found himself upstairs again at a familiar door—the one he had confused for his bedroom earlier. The memory of the beautiful blonde who'd stood inside flashed across his mind. Despite every logical thought, he felt a strange pull.
"Maybe I should knock," he muttered, hand hovering over the doorknob. Yet, as though compelled by some unseen force, he simply turned the knob and pushed the door open again.
Sunlight poured in from a massive window, illuminating a graceful silhouette seated at a small table. It was the blonde woman, her back turned to him, gazing out onto the estate's garden. Her slender shoulders rose and fell with a quiet sigh.
For a moment, Philip forgot everything else—forgot the estate's debts, the threat of assassins, even the system's bizarre bunny form. He was captivated by the sight of her pale hair catching the light, her elegant posture outlined in golden rays.
He stepped forward, heart hammering. Then she turned, and her piercing blue eyes locked onto his. There was a sorrowful sadness in her gaze, one that momentarily immobilized him. He couldn't speak, couldn't think—just stood there, transfixed.
"Master," she said softly, her voice carrying a melodic lilt. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"
That smile—gentle, yet tinged with melancholy—stirred a new wave of confusion in Philip. He opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. All the tasks, missions, and obligations swirling in his head scattered before the intensity of her gaze.
He could only stand there, blood pounding in his ears, utterly forgetting to answer her question.