...

Besides Alexander's Mansion

Otto sat on a bench in the quiet garden, trying to catch his breath, his eyes unfocused. He tried to calm his mind before continuing, inwardly telling himself that he shouldn't form any opinion until the end—patience, a trait he was always proud of.

'What's my motivation, though?—' Even though he wouldn't make any hasty decision, his mind was still occupied with all the conversations he had, '—a motivation, huh.'

Otto once had a big dream, but he was too pragmatic to do everything to achieve something this childish—the fear of losing everything he was working for always held him back. However, this didn't mean it wouldn't influence his duties as a judge. 'I remember, ' he mused, frustration slowly surfacing.

Unlike other judges, he was never biased against whoever was before him, remaining as loyal to the legal text as possible. But he was—in some points, like many others—politically biased. 'I hated it,' he shivered, remembering the disgust against himself at that time.

When he was a newbie, proud and rigid in his readings, someone of higher rank wrote, wanting to transfer a certain individual toward the higher court. It was petty revenge against some small-time criminal who was now doing forced labor and would probably be doing it for the next decade—a punishment far too unreasonable.

Otto leaned back, sighing, 'Why now?' Those thoughts had been a struggle in the past, with constant internal debates about what to do, but now they came back, making him rethink his initial motivation, 'Do I really wish for the same?'

A cool breeze ruffled the leaves as footsteps approached, crisp against the gravel path. Otto turned, being brought out of his thoughts only to see Narsiz, Alexander's elder brother, striding toward him with the nonchalance of someone with little time for pleasantries.

Otto immediately stood up and bowed low, hoping to convey his respect for the elder sibling, even though he found it baffling that Narsiz, an older brother, was one of Alexander's retainers. The very idea clashed with his understanding of the noble hierarchy.

"Mr. Narsiz, I am honored to meet you," Otto began, trying to inject formality into his greeting, changing from his previous casually respectful attitude.

Narsiz stopped before him, raising an eyebrow, "I see—" he muttered, his eyes narrowing in mild amusement. "—Let's make this quick."

Otto straightened, feeling the awkwardness of this conversation before it even started. He wanted to go to Narsiz next, but there was obviously no need anymore. Nonetheless, it would be preferable, as he still hadn't gotten his thoughts in order, making this spontaneous conversation even more challenging to concentrate on.

'He really is what the rumors said,' Otto racked his brain, unable to comprehend how someone like him was Alexander's brother.

Before Otto stood a beautiful boy, his charisma overwhelming even him. The colors seemed brighter when he smiled, and the worries he had earlier were all gone when he caressed his beautiful blond hair and looked at him with his big golden eyes—all he wanted to do was marvel at him.

'He is dangerous,' Otto immediately intensified his skills to escape the charm of his pheromones, something he didn't even know he could feel for another male. Narsiz was about to go through his first mating season, usually a festive occasion, at least in central Mal-Gil, but here, it appeared that the Moorgrelian noble youth would go wild while doing their best to receive a skill, avoiding any intercourse.

It was most likely an effect of the miasma, as seen in others. The courthouse would be filled with rapists every year, around this time, who could barely control themself and continue inside the prison—it would become a giant orgy.

Otto pulled himself together, trying to appear unaffected, "Of course, Mr. Narsiz. I was hoping to learn more about what it means to serve under Mr. Alexander—"

Narsiz cut him off with a sharp laugh, the sound startling in the quiet garden, "You've probably already heard from everyone else, and I'll save you the trouble—I'm not going to say anything different. But—" he added, glancing at Otto, "—since you're from central Mal-Gil and nobility at that—though I hear your family's fortunes haven't been so fortunate—you must understand something right from the start."

Otto flinched, not liking when someone mentioned his family's fallen status, "And what's that, Mr. Narsiz?"

"Prestige isn't what you think it is—" Narsiz said with a casual shrug as if dismissing a trivial fact, "—Not here. Not in Moorgrel."

Otto frowned. "Mr. Narsiz, I was under the impression—"

"Impressions don't mean much—" Narsiz interrupted again. His eyes flicked to Otto, studying him for a beat before continuing, "—You think being a retainer means gaining admiration? Prestige? That people will look up to you? Maybe in central Mal-Gil, but here?—" Narsiz's smirk grew wider, "—Not a chance. People respect strength, results, and progress. Titles? They're just a formality."

Otto opened his mouth to protest but could find no words. This wasn't what he expected to hear from the nobility itself—at all. The difference to his birthplace was far too different.

"Let me ask you something—" Narsiz said, gesturing his willingness to take more time as he looked at him in interest, "—What do you know about us? Alexander's siblings, I mean. What have you heard?"

Otto blinked, trying to gather his thoughts, "Well, Mr. Narsiz, I've heard you... all contribute in unique ways. Your help and support to Mr. Alexander is well known."

Narsiz snorted, shaking his head. "Unique ways? Yeah, I guess you could say that. I'm just a pretty face to most people—" he gestured to himself with a mock bow, "—Sarah became a recluse after an incident. Lori only wants to kill off wild demons and live in the wild like a beast, and Nina wants only to pursue her art, ignoring everything else."

Otto cleared his throat, "But you are highly regarded, Mr. Narsiz. Your name carries weight."

"Does it?—" Narsiz's eyes gleamed with mischief, "—Let me tell you something, Otto. People talk about Lia, Aurum, and Ari more than they do about me. Why? Because they're out there doing what needs to be done while I'm... well, here."

He looked around, his expression showing self-mockery, "And no one cares about our titles or bloodlines, at least not beyond avoiding pissing us off. Fear of retaliation, you know."

Otto felt a chill run down his spine. The casual way Narsiz spoke about these things unsettled him, "But surely status and respect—"

Narsiz chuckled again, the sound rich with amusement: "You think this is about respect?—" He walked around him, his gestures open, similar to an announcer at an auction, "—Let's change from nobility since you will never become one anyway and choose something more analogical."

Otto's heart clenched hearing that since he still liked to think of himself as nobility, he nodded, not wanting to appear uncourteous against possibly his future colleague.

"Look at my parent's most notable retainers, Otto. Salyna's despised by every merchant she's ever crossed. Every lawyer and judge in the region hates Noriken. Cross terrifies the soldiers under his command so much they jump at their own shadows. Aro? All servants practically see Aro as a wild demon, unable to reach his standard whatever they do. Sarusos? That man controls half the underworld, not because of his title, but because he's a ruthless bastard who knows how to get what he wants."

Otto narrowed his eyes at Narsiz, his mind slowly comprehending what he meant, "Mr. Narsiz, you want to say that my assumptions of prestige were wrong because reputation can as easily make you despised?—" his tone became firmer, "—I'd like to think of this as respect toward them."

Narsiz stepped toward him, and the sensation of his overflowing pheromones tickled Otto's nose. "Interesting hypothesis, but you know Alex and some of his motivations—" His smile mischievous, "—what reputation will you achieve, do you think? I guess you don't care about all the lowly commoners celebrating my brother and want others to appreciate you, right?"

Otto's stomach churned. 'He is right, though,' his thoughts were a mess. He saw how others appreciated them, but those people were not what he had been imagining.

Narsiz stepped playfully backward, arms behind back and smiling, "Unfortunately, as an archivist, you can't also work in the background like Xeros, Magnus, Talin."

Otto tilted his head slightly, confused, "Who are those?"

Narsiz snapped with his hand, holding his index finger up, "Exactly! Those are artisans who are only notable in the small circle in which they exist, but since you want prestige, you may need to decide very carefully."

Narsiz opened his arms with a playful smile. "I like you, Otto. You did consider it genuinely. As such, let me give you some advice."

Otto nodded, his eyes still narrowed down on the boy who was too far different from what he heard, 'Shy? Not talkative? What a load of bullshit—he is as unrestrained as it comes.'

Narsiz's voice was firm, but his eyes sparkled, and every word sounded ecstatic, "What you need is a goal, something to aspire to. That's why I follow Alex, who doesn't care about those empty aspirations. He, even though very immature and a moron at times, wants to do the same as our ancestors—change Moorgrel for the better, no matter the costs."

His aura exploded, like a beautiful golden glitter, "Fenrir was seen as a barbarian at his time and Aetherfang as a crazy bloodthirsty bitch, and while commoners loved them, they are still despised in central Mal-Gil, isn't that so?"

Otto nodded, slowly making Narsiz calm down again. He returned to his calm smile, his voice gentle but firm, "Ultimately, it's up to you what you want, but don't think prestige is absolute, especially not here. If you truly want to make your name known, Alex is the best person for this, not because of who he is, but because he will give you the freedom to pursue your goals and support you while doing so."

Otto didn't say anything—there was no need to. Moorgrel and especially Alexander were too different from what he imagined, 'They are not just following his command.'

It now made much more sense why everyone he had met had different but the same goals, motivations, and ideals. It was not Alexander's directive but more an overarching idealism. He showed that they could choose their path and work toward it in their own way.

"Sorry to burst your bubble—" Narsiz clapped a hand on his shoulder, a gesture that felt oddly friendly despite his harsh words, "—but being a retainer here isn't some cushy job where you get by on your family name. You'll get compensation, protection, and whatever perks you need—but you're expected to grow in return—to improve. And that's not negotiable."

Otto swallowed hard, nodding slowly as the weight of Narsiz's words sank in. This was not the life of luxury he had envisioned, far from it.

"You understand now?—" Narsiz asked, his tone softening but still sharp enough to cut through Otto's confusion, "—This isn't about glory. It's about your goal. Every single day."

Otto bowed, realizing that any further argument would be pointless. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Narsiz."

Narsiz shrugged, already turning away, "Sure. Who's next on your list?"

"Maurice," Otto answered, his voice tinged with confusion from the conversation.

Narsiz paused mid-step, a grin breaking across his face, "Heh. Good luck with that."

...

Later That Day – Kitchen close to the training grounds

Otto stepped into a kitchen close to the training grounds, blinking as his eyes adjusted from the sunlit hallways to the dimmed space he needed to go. The air was thick with the scent of baked bread, making his mouth water.

In the middle of the kitchen stood Maurice—a mountain of a man. He was the same height as Otto but looked comically out of place. He was much slimmer, but his refined muscles showed his potent power.

Maurice was dressed in what could only be described as a wildly undersized apron. The garment, clearly intended for a cook half his size, clung to him awkwardly, its strings straining around his bulging muscles. The apron ended well above his knees, revealing muscular legs clad in too-tight trousers, which looked more suited for a baker's apprentice than someone of Maurice's stature. His massive arms, bare except for a few flour smudges, were as thick as some of the rolling pins hanging from the walls.

Otto tried to process the absurdity of the scene. Maurice, a respected personal guard, was elbow-deep in flour and used his [Energy] to process it, 'Well, the Squasher is actually baking. What a time to be alive.'

Deeply engrossed in studying a recipe book, he scratched his head, his brow furrowed in concentration as if examining the battlefield. But no, it was just a recipe for pastries.

Maurice began, speaking as if Otto had been standing there the whole time, "Hm, what about fae blood? Apparently, it tastes kinda like chocolate... but, uh, using the blood of... are they nature-dwellers? Will Green be angry with me, huh?"

Otto cleared his throat, standing just inside the door, unsure if Maurice had even noticed him, "Excuse me, but... are you, Maurice? The personal guard of Mr. Alexander, also called the 'Squasher'?"

Maurice finally looked up, his face lighting up with a broad, boyish grin, "Yup! That's me!—" He raised his flour-dusted hands and made a squashing motion, clearly proud of his nickname, "—Bestest nut-squasher in all of Moorgrel!" He gestured to a nearby bowl of crushed walnuts to demonstrate his claim.

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Otto hesitated, looking at the bowl, then back at the man responsible for killing dozens of thugs in the underworld, leaving nothing but smashed bodies behind, "I... see. I'm here to introduce myself. I'm Otto M. Melodias, a judge and perhaps Mr. Alexander's future archivar."

Maurice wiped his hands on his apron—though the small cloth did little to clean up the flour coating his fingers, "Knew it! You've released some of my people and were pretty nice!"

Otto raised an eyebrow, "Your people?" He had no idea what Maurice was talking about. The Copperhouse was not responsible for soldiers and guards—it was solely Noriken's jurisdiction.

"Well—" He scratched his head, "—they were not my people back then, I guess.

Otto stepped forward, looking curiously around while continuing the conversation, "I see. You took them in even though they were criminals?"

Maurice shrugged, his expression beaming, "Yep!"

"Was there a reason why you took them, or was it just because you couldn't find anyone else?" It was not unusual for former criminals to become soldiers, but the military would always prefer people without a criminal record if given the chance.

Maurice crossed his arms, deep in thought. "I guess—" After another moment, he sighed, "—I'm sorry, I don't know, but they seem like good guys, though."

Otto stopped and looked at him in confusion, raising an eyebrow, "Seem? Are they not any good?"

Maurice shook his head. "No, they are great! I trained them a lot, and now they are outside, doing some cleansing to get combat experience with a couple of healers and fairies. They will be back in a month or so, wanna meet them?"

Otto smiled slightly, slowly understanding Maurice's personality. "No thanks. I'm just doing some chit-chat. But on another note, how many of those are under Mr. Alexander now?"

Maurice shrugged, "Thirty-something, I guess? All are very young, though, so there is not really much to see—" He chuckled, his eyes momentarily becoming filled with bloodthirst, "—they need to get first a taste of blood before calling themselves warriors."

Otto nodded calmly on the outside, but inwardly, he already saw the momentarily merciless demeanor from which his nickname also came. Unfortunately, even though he was the son of a knight, he had little to no experience in the military, so even if he wanted to, he couldn't hold a conversation about that.

"And... may I ask what motivates you in this role?" Seeing Maurice's openness and straightforwardness, he decided to continue with what he was most interested in.

Maurice blinked as if the question was entirely foreign to him. "Motivates me?" He scratched his butt in thought, "I dunno... it's fun, I guess."

"Fun?—" Otto echoed, barely hiding his disbelief. "—That's it?"

"Yeah. I mean, I get to train soldiers, kill monsters, squash nuts, and bake stuff. It's a good time!" He glanced at his flour-covered hands, "Plus, I get to experiment with food, like finding chocolate substitutes. Master loves sweets, and if I can make him something he can eat without it poisoning himself, that's a victory, too, right?"

Otto stared, unable to find words. "But... isn't the prestige also something important to you? Don't you care about how others admire you for your position?"

Maurice looked genuinely puzzled. "Prestige? Nah, not really—" He paused, then laughed, "Haha! If I was after prestige, I think I'd be doing a bad job! Cross—he's one of the serious military types—he's always telling me I'm a failure. Maurice, you're a disaster waiting to happen, he says. But hey, I'm still here!"

"A... failure?" Otto repeated, utterly confused.

Maurice shrugged, unconcerned. "Yeah, well, people say stuff. It doesn't really bother me, and he is also a nice guy once you know him better."

"But surely—" Otto pressed, "—before I decide to take this position, you may have some advice?"

Maurice pondered this for a moment, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm... I guess if you have fun with what you're doing, go for it. If not, then maybe don't? I mean, if you're not enjoying yourself, what's the point?"

Otto pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to regain composure. "And... your Master's ideals? His goals? Surely those mean something to you?"

"Oh, those? Yeah, sure!—" Maurice waved a floury hand in the air dismissively, "I'm not smart enough to really get all of them, but I feel like they're good. You know, deep down. I trust Master. He's doing what's right—I can feel it."

"You feel it?" Otto's head was spinning.

Maurice nodded earnestly, his smile broadening, "Yeah, and you fit right in! Aurum always annoys me with that stuff, telling me the same, but what can I say? Feels right to me. Doesn't everyone?"

"No, Maurice... not everyone," Otto sighed.

"Well, that's their problem!—" Maurice said cheerfully as if that solved everything, "—Anyway, glad we could chat! Anything else, Orro?"

"It's... Otto..." Otto muttered, too tired to correct him further, "—Never mind. Thank you for your time."

"Anytime, buddy!" Maurice called as Otto turned to leave, the Squasher already flipping through the next page of his cookbook, "Good luck with your whole judging thing!"

As Otto left the kitchen and stepped back into the cool air of the hallway, he felt utterly defeated. The conversation had been as baffling as it had been frustrating. While expecting that Maurice wasn't someone who would reflect on such questions, he didn't even try.

Instead, he was something entirely different—a dangerous warrior with a childlike sense of enjoyment, wielding military command and a rolling pin with equal enthusiasm.

Walking down the corridor, Otto was deeply thinking on the way to Alexander. 'I need to decide.'

...

Hours later

Otto strolled through the garden, deeply in thought, with a guard silently watching over him from a distance. He appreciated the solitude as he wrestled with a question gnawing at him, 'Is this the right choice?'

He had spoken to several of Alexander's retainers. Each had different reasons for their initial decision to follow him—circumstantial, like Ocilia and Melina; idealistically driven, like Aurum and Narsiz; others motivated by wealth, like Ariana and Quill; or simply for fun, like Maurice.

Yet all of them seemed engulfed in Alexander's ambitions. Though their motivations varied, they were all united by one thing: their love for his vision and their desire to make it a reality.

'Can I be like them?' Otto pondered. He wouldn't know if he could embrace this vision with the same enthusiasm. While such a ridiculous question wouldn't even come to his mind, now, his superficial ambitions were slowly replaced by something more profound. 'Is this truly the right decision? Can I make this happen?'

It felt unrealistic, almost insulting to his old self, yet when he thought about everyone else, it made sense—too much sense. They were building something new, something bold, replacing the centuries-old norms that maintained stability.

Their steps were small but deliberate, designed to win over the populace. It was ambitious, with only a slim chance of success. But Otto found himself admiring their bravery. 'Is this what it means to dream?' He felt his lips curve into an unexpected smile. 'Do I want this?'

The excitement he had long suppressed began to surface. The cold, calculative persona he had built over the years was unraveling, undone by the ridiculous dreams of a boy whose vision, somehow, seemed more achievable than any others he had encountered.

Arriving at the greenhouse, Otto saw Alexander with two youths, both spider-kins, unassuming as they came, speaking in hushed tones. 'This last conversation will decide whether I genuinely want... no, need this position.'

Otto approached them, not wanting to interrupt them, but still curiously watched their interactions.

Alexander stood with his arms crossed, addressing the younger boy with genuine confusion. "So, you got a [Divinity Line] for gardening? What's wrong with that?"

The boy, Jarus, hung his head low, on the verge of tears, making Alexander flustered. "Whoa, whoa! Jarus, come on! Why the tears? I'm sure it's a great [Divinity Line]!"

Otto recalled hearing their names during the drinking session with Ocilia. Jarus was her brother, and the girl, Klili, was her sister, who was no less frustrated, 'Did they get [Divinity Lines] they didn't want?'

Jarus clenched his fists, tears welling up. "But... I studied so many spells—even alchemy!—" With a display of concentration, Jarus conjured a small water ball and then a fireball, impressing Otto. "—I even learned physics, mathematics, biology... I even got the [Prodigy I] skill!"

Otto understood Jarus' frustration now, feeling sympathetic for him, 'Such a talent—stuck with a [Divinity Line] like that?'

He wondered because a [Divinity Line] always perfectly fitted the individual. Their talents would be represented in it, without a question, even if they had other interests.

'So, how will he handle this?' Otto mused, keenly observing Alexander, '—now, this might be even more insightful.' Would he give him a position, unfitting his abilities, or treat him fairly, making Ocilia most likely unhappy?

Otto approached the group, coughing gently to announce his presence. Jarus and Klili glanced at him briefly, but their attention quickly returned to Alexander.

"Give me a minute, Otto—" Alexander said casually before turning back to Jarus. His voice firm, "—Listen, a [Divinity Lines] isn't as rigid as you think. There are plenty of ways to use them creatively—" He hesitated slightly, then added cautiously, "—I probably shouldn't ask you this, but—"

Otto smirked. 'He's unconventional, trying to find solutions where others might give up,' which perfectly fits Alexander's character.

Before Alexander could finish, Jarus opened his System Window, his voice in distress. "Look! I don't even care anymore!"

image [https://raw.githubusercontent.com/Chiruschka/Supersum/refs/heads/main/character_cards/jarus/system_window/chapter_197/jarus.svg]

Otto leaned in, stunned by what he saw. 'A genius...' He couldn't fathom how a commoner could achieve such high levels without access to resources. '—Is this boy his disciple?'

The System Window revealed a legendary [Divinity Line], but its significance was lost on Otto. He could only watch as Alexander's excitement mixed with frustration.

"You've got a great [Divinity Line]!—" Alexander exclaimed, "—And you're upset because you think it makes you a gardener? Are you kidding me?—" His tone shifted to playful annoyance, "—Did Lia bash your head against a wall too many times?"

Jarus, angry now, tried to argue, "Yes! I—"

Alexander cut him off, still dissecting the System Window, "I've got a rough idea of what your [Mystic Skills] do. So, what is it you really want? Didn't you tell me you wanted to become a mage?—" He smirked, "—You want to be one of those morons who throw fireballs at monsters?"

Jarus looked down, embarrassed. "I just... I want to be your retainer, Mr. Alexander. Since you do alchemy—"

Before he could finish, Alexander struck the back of his head, causing him to stumble and fall, "Ow! Why?!"

Alexander looked down at him annoyedly, "You're lucky, you little shit. This isn't just gardening or alchemy. I bet your [Mystic Skills] can control plants and enhance their alchemical effects—" He crossed his arms, softening his tone, "Stand up. We'll figure out how your skills work later, but I already see unlimited potential, so shut up. I will take you gladly as a retainer."

Otto was impressed by Alexander's handling of the situation, 'Rationale, if not cold and calculative.' He aimed to find Jarus a fitting position without compromising his talent and taking in someone subpar.

It wasn't unnormal to acquiesce to the family of close retainers, giving them the position they wanted but with much less responsibility if they were unfitting. It would just be seen as doing a favor.

As Jarus wiped his nose and bowed deeply, he muttered, "Thank you, Mr. Alexander... Without you, I wouldn't have come this far."

Alexander ruffled the boy's hair playfully. "As a retainer, you must now endure this!"

Jarus pouted as he stepped back, fixing his hair, "Man!"

Alexander chuckled, turning his attention towards Klili, "So, what about you, Klili? Did you learn how to tame divine beings but want to throw fireballs like—" He pointed his thumb at Jarus, "—this moron?"

"Hey!" Jarus protested, his face flushed with embarrassment.

Alexander chuckled, "Yeah, yeah—" His voice became much gentler, "—So, Klili, are you a summoner of mystical beings, or what?"

Klili fidgeted nervously, her voice barely audible. "I... I want to be your retainer too... if that's okay?"

image [https://raw.githubusercontent.com/Chiruschka/Supersum/refs/heads/main/character_cards/klili/system_window/chapter_197/klili.svg]

"Wow, look at that! That's some good shit!" Alexander marveled. Otto, standing back, couldn't help but agree. These kids are prodigies. 'How is this even possible?'

Otto suddenly understood Alexander much better, seeing the effects of his motives, 'If every Moorgrelian—' He gulped heavily, '—it will become the strongest region on Orbis.'

Everything Alexander had been doing until now involved giving away skills and manuals—he wanted to see everyone grow with him. Future generations would learn in schools, artisans would acquire a treasure trove of knowledge with his magazines, and because of the charity, everyone would have more time and resources to train and learn.

It wasn't just scary anymore, but unprecedently terrifying. 'I want to be a part of this—' Otto didn't care if Moorgrel would dominate the world, but that he could be a part of something greater, something unimaginable, making his goals actually make more sense in this ridiculous world Alexander wanted to create, '—I decided.'

What would the future look like if he could raise commoners to such a level in a couple of years? 'Indeed, scary,' he thought, feeling a surge of excitement.

"So—" Alexander brought him back from his thoughts, looking down with a smile at the bowing Klili, "—you will become my new tailor and create the most fantastic garments? As much as I can see, those are magic ones, though. So, you will have a long road ahead with a great deal of potential, like the little shit."

Klili nodded shyly, "Th-thank you, Mr. Alexander."

"Come with Jarus later—" crossing his arms with a thoughtful look. "We'll figure out both of your skills. And don't worry about the wage for now—you'll figure that out later, but you should know by now that I am not stingy."

Sister and brother both nodded, caring little about the gold, which made sense since their older sister was already incredibly wealthy, 'They probably lost their sense of how wealthy they are,' Otto mused.

Alexander's eyes suddenly sparkled, and a mischievous grin appeared as he disappeared. He appeared behind the spider kin siblings, ruffling their hair. "Ruffle ruffle, hehe! This is my payment, though!"

Jarus sidestepped, annoyed. "Man! I don't want to go bald like Noriken!"

Klili, too shy to resist, mumbled, "Hm! Pl... please stop!"

Alexander finally relented, laughing. "Haha! Fine—Lia was more fun anyway."

Turning to Otto, Alexander's expression softened. "And what about you? Did you make up your mind?"

Otto took a deep breath and stepped forward. His mind said he should accept and later see if he could fulfill his dream. Still, his heart screamed at him, forcing him to act against his rationale. "Mr. Alexander, I want to become your archivist, but not because of your ideals or the prestige I initially pursued."

Alexander raised an eyebrow. "Oh, do tell? Another Aurum in the making?—" He smirked, "—How unexpected."

Otto chuckled, nervous, but it seemed right for him to tell his goal, his dream he had since he began studying law, "I see you have humor, Mr. Alexander—" He straightened up, his smile also broad, "—I want to create a legal system—one that isn't tarnished by politics, bloodlines, or corruption."

Alexander's smile vanished, his gaze thoughtful, "Interesting, but will it also target us? Nobility? How will you do it with the Count? What about other Guard Households?"

"Mr. Alexander, please don't play stupid. You know what I mean—" His gaze hardened, "—you saw it, right?"

Alexander smiled suddenly, tilting his head in confusion. "Oh, tell me. What did I see?"

"While I respect what the Lady and Noriken accomplished, we need to clean up even more, creating a separation of power. Guards, judiciary, and nobility can't be one institution. Otherwise, we will never be able to stop corruption, never able to show all your future subjects your fairness."

Alexander opened his eyes wide, "Interesting—" His smile broadened, "—You want to eliminate nobility, Otto?"

Otto swang his head backward, laughing loudly, "Bahahaha! Of course not!—" He looked back at Alexander, his voice nervous and anxious as he made himself vulnerable, revealing his dream, 'This is embarrassing but also exciting!'

"I want nobility only to act as a gatekeeper in case something happens, something that violates their principles but never interferes with a system, made to hold up fairness and justice for eternity. I want to create something new, something that can erase corruption and nepotism!"

His stomach churned, but there was also relief and hope.

After a moment of silence, Alexander took a big step back, "Bow down, big guy, and we can have our conversation later—" his smile mischievous, —I like you now much more."

Otto couldn't believe it, 'That's...' He almost cried, tears swelling up in his eyes. He bowed down, opening his system window, "I want to become your retainer, Mr. Alexander."

image [https://raw.githubusercontent.com/Chiruschka/Supersum/refs/heads/main/character_cards/otto/system_window/chapter_197/otto.svg]

Alexander's voice was full of excitement, "I accept—" But Jarus disturbed the moment, "Why are Adults always so dramatic? What's the big deal?"

Otto wanted to straighten up but felt his hair getting ruffled. "Hehe, ruffle ruffle! Woah!—" He suddenly stopped, looking at his hands disgustingly. "—How much wax did you use?!"

'That's now my Master, I guess?' He straightened up, shrugged, trying to act now accordingly, "Well, don't ruffle my hair?"

Klili and Jarus laughed, looking away from an annoyed Alexander, who also started to laugh. "See?—" he suddenly gazed at Otto, making him flinch, "—You will fit perfectly."

Otto was somewhat confused, but he liked it. For some unknown reason, he felt he could be himself in this group of weirdos, all with their own ambitions, following an even crazier boy.