Chapter 003:

After ironing out some details concerning the engagement annulment, an awkward silence spread between Alexander and the count as both continued their meals.

Deciding to use this pause wisely, Alexander dived into Timothy’s memories for a bit.

If you were to ask him to rate this life’s starting point, he’d tell you it was an eight out of ten. Iron-wall was an almost perfect place to start in; it wasn’t so prestigious as to pressure Alexander right from the beginning, however, it was also prosperous enough to assure him a smooth start. Additionally, as the name suggests, the kingdom was quite well-defended. Really the only complaint Alexander had was with Tim’s home situation.

Knight-Captain Lobo Baek, nicknamed: The Iron Mountain.

The man, as blunt as a brick much like his moniker, was one of uncompromising chivalry and bravery. He towered over others with a height over seven feet tall and a body so large it eclipsed the sun. The mere sight of him would wet his foe’s pants, if not with urine then surely with blood.

So known was his combat prowess that he had long been appointed as the king’s personal guard.

And it was in such a manner that he tragically lost his life one night after successfully thwarting an almost successful assassination attempt on the king’s life via ambush en route to a neighboring kingdom. He died gloriously on his feet after facing off a sizable army of men on his own. Some even say that among the men were a couple of elites with control over Wiskers.

This had all happened shortly after Tim turned thirteen and if that wasn’t enough, the young boy was stripped of another parent after his mother took her own life shortly after her husband's death. All of this left Timothy Baek in the awkward situation of inheriting the position of house head prematurely, as he was an only child.

Yes, this was all tragic and Alexander damn near shed a tear rifling through Tim’s memories but that was still not the main point.

‘Nox fucking Hert,’ Alexander muttered as he attempted to collect every scrap of info Tim had on him.

He had been Lobo’s right-hand man with strength that matched, thus it only made sense to promote him to Knight captain-commander after Lobo’s death.

But the Baek household, mainly Timothy’s mother, was unconvinced of this and was suspicious of Hert. There were many oddities surrounding Lobo’s death.

For one, why was Lobo alone when the king was attacked? Surely, there would be other knights along with the king’s own staff. Furthermore, why wasn’t there a Wisker user escorting the king as well? Perhaps most pressingly, where was Nox?

To call the details of that fateful night ‘hazy’ would be the understatement of the century. Nevertheless, the king’s court was left with a difficult choice to make. It was clear that Nox was a suspicious fellow but what else was there to do? A knight captain commander was a necessary part of the kingdom’s administration, thus after a grandiose funeral in which Nox spoke a couple of words, he was appointed Captain Commander.

After sufficiently organizing his thoughts, Alexander spoke to the count, "I was wondering if the count would be interested in going into business with me,”

Developing a decent relationship with the count was very important to Alexander as it would strike three birds with one stone. For one, him being associated with the count would provide him with extra protection. Furthermore, with the count’s assistance, the business would surely experience a decent amount of success earning Tim some pocket change. Finally, and perhaps most importantly.

‘My errand boy~’ A somewhat trustworthy merchant was an absolute necessity to anyone looking to make a name for himself. Not only would they provide a means of selling off any unwanted goods, but they’d also be great at scouring the lands for precious materials.

On the other hand, even with all that in mind, it wasn’t as if partnering with Count Schuyler was a completely safe affair. A merchant might sell anything for profit but he would surely give anything away for his life.

'Stuck between a rock and a fat man,’ Alexander thought to himself as he studied the man’s countenance.

Count Schuyler’s face widened in surprise before easing into amusement. He was now making an expression similar to a parent listening to their children’s future plans.

“Why of course! What do you have in mind, Tim? I’ll help you with anything to the best of my abilities,” He said graciously as he patted his chest.

Alexander held back a scoff, ‘Of course, you’d be interested. Without your daughter to hold me down, you’ll need some other way to keep me around. The question is, how important is getting closer to the king to you? Or rather, how far are you willing to let me use you?’ Timothy concluded his thoughts by smiling sweetly.

“Perhaps you wish to open up your very own shop?” The count prattled on with an excited look in his eyes. “Yes, I can see it now: Count Schuyler and his young protege, taking Iron-wall by storm. Or perhaps your interest lies elsewhere? Brothels are out of the question as you are far too young. A restaurant? Bland but lucrative if marketed right…”

Alexander listened patiently as the old fox listed profession after profession, ‘What do you mean I’m too young for brothels you old fart! I’m a strapping young man. Fuck it I’m visiting the red light district after this,’

“Actually, count, I’d like to open up a smithy,”

The count nearly choked on his wine in surprise.

………………………………………………..

By the time Timothy returned home, the night had truly settled.

Darkness had robbed everything of its color, enveloping all in a uniform black. However, that was only true save for the spots illuminated with magic stone-powered lamp posts.

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

The level of magic in this world seemed somewhat superior to his previous life, it was advanced enough to be practical in everyday life for the magicless, those who weren’t magically gifted.

Alexander thought of this as he avoided the glare of the harsh light given off by the lamp posts.

Greeting the guards who stood waiting for him with a nod, Alexander approached his manor. He entered to the sight of a great hall as luxuriously decorated as that of the count’s only with more tact, more dignity.

Baek manor was well maintained indeed; apparently, it was sufficiently staffed too. Though Alexander searched, he couldn’t find anything amongst Tim’s memories concerning his family’s financial situation. The duty of head cheese distributor was handled by Lobo before being given to the head butler due to Tim being too young.

“Greetings young master,” Speak of the devil, Alexander regarded the old man. Though he was now bowing, he seemed to be a man of perpetually good posture. He was uptight, stuffy; seriousness dressed in a sharp suit. His face was plain if not a bit too pale; in fact, the only thing that caught Alexander’s eyes was the lock of silver hair standing out on an otherwise dark and lush head of hair.

Oh, that and the group of camouflaged fighters surrounding the old man, hidden from sight.

‘He probably dyes it…’ Alexander thought with some jealousy. When his hair grew gray, it did so all at once and much too early.

Alexander strode forward without pausing. “I thought I told you to drop the “young” old man,” He said as he recalled a conversation Timothy had with the butler a few days ago. The young man was concerned about how people might look down on him if he, the head of the house, was addressed as if he was still a young boy.

“I apologize for the slip of tongue, master,”

“Nevermind, have all documents regarding our accounting sent to my father’s office, I will be looking through them tomorrow,”

A hint of surprise colored the old man’s perpetually gloomy face. “Yes, master,”

Alexander nodded as he ascended the stairs leading to the second floor where the family's main quarters were. After passing by his parents' room, Timothy entered his own.

The room was well organised and clean, but Alexander did not study it any further and simply made his way toward the only window. The latch was undone easily and soon a refreshing breeze blew into his face, messing his already disheveled hair up.

The wind was nice, however, the refreshing atmosphere only served to further highlight the inexplicable sadness he felt.

Sick of wallowing in the frustration of being unable to sort through his own feelings, Alexander chose to activate the system. After a moment of searching, he came upon an oddity:

{Synchronization rate: 001%}

His heart skipped a beat. He had never seen anything like this in his previous system.

'What the hell..' Despite his confusion, he still knew to focus on the line of text for a more detailed explanation.

{Synchronization rate: An approximation of how closely intertwined both users' differing personalities become.}

The vague flavor text only served to heighten Alexander's anxiety, and now numerous questions ran amok in his head. What is the true significance of this synchro rate? What raises it and what lowers it? Is it related to how differing or similar Alexander's actions are to Tim's? If that is true, is it exclusive to actions alone, or do Alexander's very thoughts affect the rate too? Most importantly, what happens when it reaches 100%?

"So you're still alive, huh...." He said out loud to no one.

Another cool breeze allowed Alexander to somewhat quell his raging thoughts. ‘Well, at least this explains why I’m sad, Tim must be depressed over how I handled the Erika situation,’ He turned from the window, deciding to leave the matter to an Alexander having had a good night's sleep under his belt.

But as he turned away, a thought struck him still. Did he not have plans? Plans vastly differing anything Timmy might have done.

'If anything, the reaction the rate might have to this may be interesting,' His curiosity piqued, he jumped out of the window.

………………………………………………..

Iron-wall's red-light district was not anything special. A couple of brothels and theaters here and there with bars in between. If you were lucky enough you may, in your undoubtedly drunk stupor, find yourself walking into one of the many pawn shops littering the district, whereupon you'd surely be talked into selling the shirt off your back for a cheap trinket.

In the center of it all was a brightly lit casino that roared defiantly into the night with both laughter and screams. Golden-walls was the only casino in Iron-wall and it was an attraction of sorts, being one of the only unique things in the red-light district.

If there were anything else special about Iron-wall's red-light district, it would be the fact that it was oddly peaceful. Unlike many other seedy kingdom under-bellies, Iron-wall's was calm. A few murders here and there, and many a beating over chum change but overall, peaceful. In fact, the red-light district was even helpfully marked out at night. The lamp posts that lit up the region were different from the others as their light was pinker in color and warmer in the heat it gave off. These lamp posts gave the region a hazy, sticky, pink warmth that alluded to the vices one could find here while eluding the questions regarding the morality of using them.

In one of said brothels, a scuffle was being had.

"Fucking kid! I said beat it!" A gruff voice belonging to the brothel's bouncer exclaimed before tossing out a thin youth.

A thud sounded out as the youth burst through the doors unwillingly. After his body hit the floor, he lifted his head, revealing a delicate-looking young man with crafty eyes, dark in color.

"Tsk, well spotted old timer, didn't think you'd still have the eye-sight to tell my youth. Jealousy perhaps at my wrinkle-less skin?" The young voice said calmly as he dusted off. Dressed in a tight-fitting, dark suit, the youth looked mysterious and dashing, despite being a little too thin.

"You talk too much," Out of the doors strolled a wide-chested, heavily muscled, lug head of a man. He was bald but with a thick beard and tattoos running across his leathery skin. He walked gracelessly while lighting a cigarette. "Kids don't get in without their parents," He said before blowing out a cloud of smoke.

"Leave it to a pervert such as you to suggest a father-son-stripper bonding night, old man," The youth said pompously in retaliation.

"Zip it brat,"

"Kid, brat, young'n. Vary up your tongue you oaf, lest it rots due to inactivity,"

"Fuckin' hell ya chin wagger,"

"Enough. Your crass method of speech irritates me, put up your fists good man!" The youth exclaimed before dropping his shoulders and raising his fists to his face in a standard fighting pose.

"Hahahah look at ye', still reeking of your mother's milk but still wanting to play," The bouncer tossed his cigarette to the side as his face contorted into one of sadistic amusement. "Very well, I'll play along!" He swung wildly, intending to end the brawl with one punch

The youth's composure finally broke and he quickly raised his arms so as to cover his head in a panicked manner.

But the panic was for naught as the fist did not land. Before it could fully descend, it was caught mid-air by another, larger hand accompanied by a deep yet surprisingly innocent-sounding voice. "Don't touch Grim,"

The bald bouncer had to crane his neck upward to meet the newcomer's gaze; only to be met with a pair of brightly colored yet seemingly dimly witted eyes. The face around the eyes was hairless and young-looking. In fact, if one took a closer look, they'd be shocked to discover that this man was in fact younger than the other youth!

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