I was midway through pulling clothes out of my bag, stacking them awkwardly on the writing desk in a pile that already looked like it might topple. I intended to sort them out and hang them in the drawer after I got most of them out, but a soft knock came at the door.

“Sir Feyt?” Eliza’s gentle voice drifted through the door. “Your interview with His Grace will commence soon in the drawing room. Shall I help you prepare?”

The words sent bolts through me. Preparing with help from a maid… was that what a guest like me was supposed to do? I wasn’t Carine in this situation, after all. But then again, the thought of facing Father as Feyt without a little guidance felt a bit like signing up for my own doom.

“Um, actually… yes, I’d appreciate the help,” I replied.

The door opened, and Eliza stepped inside, her presence calm and reassuring. She took one look at the state of my packing job: half-opened bag, clothes strewn about… She hid a small chuckle. “Shall we begin, then?”

“Yeah… please.”

She moved with quiet efficiency, helping me pick out a simple outfit from the pile that I had pulled out. As she handed me the shirt, she added, “His Grace has informed us that there’s no need for formal attire today, Sir Feyt. He wishes you to be comfortable.”

“R-right,” I stammered, immensely grateful that I didn’t have to wrestle with anything overly fancy. I slipped into the shirt as Eliza watched.

“Would you like me to comb your hair?” she asked, eyeing my slightly tousled hair.

“Uh, yeah, that… might be good,” I admitted. Eliza gathered a comb from the dresser and quickly worked through the mess on my head. I knew I never had shampoo or anything of such as Feyt, so I was pleasantly surprised to find that Eliza combed through my hair seemingly without any struggle.

“Hmm,” she hummed to herself in a questioning tone. “Hold still, Sir Feyt. This might take a while.”

Even if she hid it well, she was still struggling after all.

Alright, I decided that the moment I got any sort of money, it would be used for shampoo.

…

While Feyt was busy being groomed by Eliza, I just finished today’s dancing lesson.

Perfekto was the only word I could use to describe my performance.

I could practically see Ms. Whats-her-name’s enthusiasm dwindling as I continued to dance with her. She had started off the lesson with a subtle smug tone, that had since faded. The minute we finished, she all but fled the room, head down.

Maybe it’ll be best if I convince Mother to stop my dancing lessons. Not just for my sake, but for the instructor’s as well…

I was getting ready to leave when a familiar face peeked around the door frame. It was Leila, my ever-dead-faced maid, holding a towel. “Lady Carine, how goes the lesson?” Her usual question, same time every day.

“The usual,” I said, more of a habit at this point. I gratefully received the towel and wiped the light sweat on my head.

“Perfect as always, then,” Leila continued. “Now that today’s lessons are done, it is time for the interview.”

An internal sigh rose in me. Of course I was invited to this interview. Normally, interviews with potential students or staff didn’t involve me, just Mother, Father, and occasionally Leila. No, this had “Father” written all over it.

"I’ll be there," I said, handing the towel back. Then, I realized something, “But can I take a quick bath first?”

I hadn’t broken much of a sweat, but I’d rather not sit through the entire interview in dance clothes that clung like glue to my skin. Especially if the interviewee was me… or, well, the other me.

Leila gave a quick nod, her usual efficiency snapping back into place. "Of course, Lady Carine. I’ll prepare everything at once.”

—One quick bath later—

I was sitting in the drawing room with Leila waiting outside. I had donned a new dress that Leila had handpicked. It seemed more… refined, compared to the ones I usually wore.

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I didn’t pay it much mind though, I was busy waiting for not only my parents but also the other me.

The doors opened, and I straightened in my seat as my parents entered.

Father came in first, his stride lively and his expression brighter than usual. He scanned the room and his eyes landed on me. He gave a quick, approving nod, “Good, you’re here.”

Mother followed a step behind, her face impassive. Her gaze was fixed ahead, not on me, not on Father; just forward, as if her neck was frozen in place.

While Father looked like he couldn’t wait for this interview, Mother’s expression was so tense, I felt like it could grind a blade.

The silence stretched a bit as they both took their seats next to me.

Father drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair, breaking the quiet. “Aren’t you excited, Carine?” he began, grinning as if he’d personally won a contest. “The boy should be here any moment. He’s come quite a way, you know.”

Mother’s gaze flicked toward him, and though she didn’t say a word, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Yes," she finally said, her tone calm and controlled. “A long way. And I do hope it’s… worthwhile.” Her words were light, but her expression didn’t ease, not even a little. “If he proves to be a waste of time…”

Father only waved it off. “I have a good feeling about him, trust me. I don’t see why we shouldn’t give him a chance.” He glanced at me, his eyes warm. “He’ll be in excellent company, after all.”

I gave a slight nod, holding back my own thoughts on the matter. With any luck, Feyt would come across as competent, or at least not completely overwhelmed, and perhaps that would be enough to ease Mother’s doubts.

Just then, footsteps approached from outside the door. My stomach tightened, and I found myself bracing for my own entrance.

The double doors swung open, and Eliza gestured me in with a small nod. “Here we are, Sir Feyt.”

I swallowed hard and stepped inside. The drawing room was a study in grandeur: high, arched windows filtered the light into soft beams that danced across the polished floors… The weird sense of awe returned once more, it took a bit of strength from me to not drop my jaw.

There they were—my parents, or at least Carine’s parents, sitting across from me with their gazes fixed.

And for the first time in a while, I met my own eyes across the room. I felt a wave of nostalgia, as if I hadn't seen someone for so long that I couldn't wait to just greet them with the top of my lungs.

That's right. It hadn’t stopped being weird.

I suppressed the urge to go and high-five myselves, I had images to maintain!

“Ah, Feyt, there you are!” Father greeted warmly, waving toward the sofa in front of him. “No need to stand there looking like a statue, take a seat!”

His casual tone was a bit surprising, to be honest. Nobles in stories were all sharp edges and distant stares, but here he was, speaking to me as if we were old acquaintances. He actually seemed excited to talk to me.

Mother, on the other hand, looked exactly as I'd expected. Her eyes were cold, slicing right through me like she was judging each breath I took. I felt myself stiffen under her stare, my palms tingling with the sudden awareness of every movement I made. Knowing how harsh her scolds had only intensified the fear.

I walked forward, each step feeling heavier than the last, and took a seat right across from them, directly facing the familiar yet not faces.

Father leaned forward with an eager smile. “Well then, let’s begin with a few questions.” He looked down at the papers in his hands, but before he could start, Mother cut in smoothly with a raise of her palm.

“Tell me, Feyt,” she said, “what do you think of my daughter?”

What kind of interview is this?!

My mind went blank, and I wasn’t the only one caught off guard. Father turned to her with a raised brow, clearly surprised. “Reyna, I thought we agreed that would be the last question.”

So you were planning on asking that too?!

Mother’s gaze didn’t waver. “Answer me, child.”

I scrambled to organize my thoughts. It wasn’t that I hadn’t thought about Carine before, but it felt bizarre to sum myself up out loud. “Uh… she’s an incredible swordsman,” I managed. “Focused, smart. And… well, she saved my life. I’d like to repay that kindness someday.”

The words felt a little stiff, but at least they were true. Complimenting myself wasn’t exactly my comfort zone, in fact, I felt like a filthy narcissist doing it. Mother’s stare eased a bit. It was still intense, but now more like a cold gust of wind brushing against my skin than a blade against my neck.

Father smiled approvingly, giving Mother a satisfied look. She tilted her chin ever so slightly, but her expression stayed unreadable.

“Now, Feyt,” Father said, leaning in with a glint in his eye, “let’s move on. Have you ever trained in any sort of combat or martial arts?”

Now that the serious questions started, I took the time to clear my throat before answering.

“I’ve worked on building up stamina, mostly with my sister,” I replied. “No formal training.”

“Stamina, hmm?” he murmured, scribbling in his notes. “No training… got it.”

“What about physical strength?” he continued. “Would you consider yourself stronger than the average person your age?”

“Not especially,” I admitted. “Just… average.”

Father nodded and continued jotting things down on his papers, his quill scratching as he made a note of what seemed to be a list. Curious, I tried to catch a glimpse over his shoulder as Carine—just a subtle glance.

But I could already tell from the angle that this was a schedule.

My eyes widened in shock. The list looked even more packed than Carine’s! I didn’t even think that was possible!

The barrage of questions continued, with only Father and Feyt’s voices filling the room.

Oddly enough, this whole interview thing sparked a strange nostalgia in me. Being on the receiving end of so many questions took me back to the days of job-hunting in my past life.

Not that I wanted to revisit that chapter of my life, but the similarity was a bit... uncanny.

I won’t be overworked here… right?

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image [https://i.imgur.com/RdC5Gde.png]