“Were you just trying to insult me?” I asked, baring my teeth in a grin. Vasily took half a step back and smirked.

“Well, look at that,” he chuckled, cracking his knuckles. “Not some stray picked up off the street, I see. All the better. So, how should I address you? ‘Your Grace,’ like Roman? That won’t work between us, especially since I’m older and, besides that, related to your uncle by blood.”

“In that case, you can address me informally. But only when there are no outsiders around,” I decided.

“Well, thank you for your generosity,” Vasily laughed, though his eyes remained serious. “Let’s go, Julius. I’ll help you.”

To be honest, his help turned out to be far from unnecessary. While my spirit was firm, my body was clearly overloaded. Just as I was about to decide I’d had enough of torturing myself and should take a break, Vasily flung open the doors to a bright, spacious room.

Inside were a bed, a nightstand, and a writing desk complete with a computer. Two additional doors were set into the walls, likely a closet…or maybe a secret passage.

“This is your temporary bedroom and office until your official recognition,” Vasily explained, helping me to the bed. “I’ve already arranged for food to be brought. If you have belongings, you can store them in the wardrobe.”

“Only what I’m wearing,” I admitted honestly.

“All the better—no need to swap your usual jeans for a uniform. Rules are strict here,” Vasily replied, stepping toward the door. “Though I doubt we have your size. I’ll order some adjustments—shirts, nightwear…”

“Wait. No need to resize anything. Just get me a robe and a casual wear, both a couple of sizes bigger,” I decided. “In my current state, it’s best if people don’t see me.”

“Where did they find someone as clever as you?” Vasily muttered, shaking his head. “You’re right. With those manners and in this state, it’s better if no one unfamiliar lays eyes on you. Otherwise, they’ll say the Zuvorin are taking in more strays. Not far from the truth, of course.”

He grimaced, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. ‘Do they have a habit of adopting children’s…or what?’

“What do you mean by that?” I asked out of curiosity.

Just then, a soft knock came at the door, and Vasily was handed with a tray holding a large covered bowl, cutlery, and a couple of deep plates from the maid.

My stomach growled traitorously, and before I knew it, I was seated at the table.

“Chicken broth, mashed potatoes, and fruit puree,” Vasily commented, gesturing to the dishes. “Nothing better for recovery. Take your time.”

“Thank you,” I murmured, pulling the aromatic broth closer.

Judging by my body’s state, I needed to eat cautiously, or I’d end up sick. Still, I could manage the process with rigorous flow of mana to calm my stomach and suppress unnecessary reflexes.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Even so, I’d have to eat in tiny portions.

“Don’t rush, Your Grace. No one’s going to take it away from you,” Vasily teased, watching as I gingerly spooned the first taste into my mouth.

“Instead of mocking me, why don’t you tell me about my new family?” I asked. “And what’s this about strays?”

“Interesting—how can you not know about the Zuvorin?” Vasily snorted. “Don’t choke. And don’t worry, lad, there’s nothing wrong with asking. In fact, it’s good. It means you’ll amount to something—if you survive the training, that is. As for the strays, well, that’s an old story.”

“Julius Zuvorin—you’ve heard of him, haven’t you? Who hasn’t, if they are from Alderstone? A great general, loyal to the country, a father to his soldiers. Some rank him among the greatest, comparing him to Alexandar the Great. But he had one major flaw—despite all his achievements, he had few children,” Vasily began. “And the lineage continue, when Julius’s grandson was on his deathbed, the Zuvorin dutchy was nearly at the end. But Jack Zuvorin made his adjutant the heir. Brought him into the family.”

“How’s that even possible—to bring in an outsider?” I asked, incredulous. “And, he accomplished that feat while lying on the deathbed.”

“It was simple—and it worked out well. The adjutant, fifteen years younger, had no children of his own. Taking the name Vikir Zuvorin, he carried on the Zuvoring dutchy legacy. But he was also unlucky—he had no children either,” Vasily continued. “So the father of your adoptive grandfather was also an orphan. Vikir Zuvorin chose him from the Alderstone military and war orphanage and made him his heir, passing on all his knowledge.”

“So, my uncle and father?” I asked, even forgetting to lift my spoon.

“No, they’re blood-related, born in wedlock. But Yulka Zuvorin, your father had no children of his own. He had favourites at the orphanage, though. For fifty years, they’ve been preparing Zuvoring heirs there,” Vasily explained. “The smartest, most capable, and most determined orphans from across the country are brought to the Zuvorin orphanage. Until recently, they believed one of them would become the next heir. They won’t greet you warmly, Julius.”

“Maybe they don’t need to,” I frowned. “Not because I’m afraid of hostility, but why traumatize them unnecessarily? It’s already been decided.”

“Decided, but not entirely,” Vasily smiled. “Your uncle is still childless, and the orphanage class graduates in a year. That’s when the selection for colleges and military academies happens. You have that year to get into shape—and show them why you were chosen.”

On the one hand, it seemed foolish. Why should I prove anything to anyone?

On the other hand, Vasily was right—I did need to restore my body, learn, and understand the differences between this world and mine. It would be easier to do that among peers, where I wouldn’t stand out as much.

Finishing half the broth, I listened to my body. Warmth spread through me, energizing every cell. It wasn’t enough for full recovery, but with my knowledge, I could accelerate my metabolism to the necessary level. All I needed was time, food, and meditation.

“Let’s take your measurements, then get some rest,” Vasily suggested, seeing my exhaustion.

“More broth,” I decided not to waste the rest of the meal.

“Don’t worry. No one’s going to take it from you,” Vasily smirked, taking my measurements while I ate. I managed a few more spoons of broth and one of puree. My body, which had likely been malnourished, was overwhelmed, but I forced it to absorb every calorie.

“What would you like for the morning, Your Grace?” Vasily asked with a hint of sarcasm.

“A book on modern history,” I replied, already half-asleep.

As soon as my head hit the pillow, my body shut down from exhaustion. But I wasn’t about to waste precious hours and used an out-of-body technique.

Observing my new body from the outside, I worked to adjust its energy flows, smoothing and strengthening its chakras, saturating them with mana, and, most importantly, studying my new vessel.

Something kept bothering me—a constant sense of wrongness in everything. The facts didn’t align with what remained in my memory. Amazingly, less than a day had passed, and I was already shedding much of the experience from my previous reincarnation. Really, what use was twenty years of working nine-to-five, five days a week?