The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the ruins of what was once a grand estate. The scent of charred wood and dust still lingered, a ghostly reminder of the chaos that had torn through this place.

Yet, amidst the wreckage, one figure remained untouched by the devastation.

Shaun.

He sat at a makeshift table, one of the last surviving pieces of furniture, calmly sipping tea from a delicate porcelain cup. The contrast was almost surreal—refined composure in the middle of utter destruction.

Across from him, Rosie stood silently. She had just poured his tea, her hands trembling before she withdrew. Her face was pale, her expression distant.

The mansion was quiet. Too quiet.

Shaun took a slow sip, the warmth spreading through him, but his mind was elsewhere.

Two of his only trustworthy servants—dead.

It wasn't a grand affair. A small, lonely burial.

Few attended. No noble gathering, no elaborate send-off. Just a handful of mourners standing beneath the dull gray sky.

Rosie had cried the most.

From what Shaun had heard, Harold and Smith had fought to the bitter end, protecting her from a group of assassins. They had saved her life—dying in the process.

Now, she carried the weight of their deaths on her small shoulders.

Shaun had already explained it to her—it wasn't her fault. The situation had simply been unavoidable, cruel, and unfair.

But she hadn't listened.

She hadn't spoken much since that day. She wanted to ask him something—he could tell—but she lacked the will to do so.

Countess Redwood had also attended. She stood quietly, accompanied by a few of her servants, paying her respects. She didn't speak. She didn't need to.

For a noblewoman to show up at a mere servant's funeral—**especially for servants who weren't even hers—**meant something. Perhaps guilt for being powerless, or maybe gratitude for those who had helped her in the past.

Shaun didn't dwell on it.

It was a fitting end, he thought. Who would mourn for old men with no legacy, no family?

And yet…

He swirled his tea, watching the ripples form inside the cup. Something about it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

With Heron handled, Shaun had sent Jim and his familiars—his three birds, his dragon, and even Blight Griffin—to train and stay in warden's island.

He would join them soon. But not yet.

There were still things to do here. Preparations.

The Battle Royale was approaching. Shaun had no intention of stepping into it unprepared.

Delilah had explained it as a "game," but Shaun saw it for what it was—a bloodbath.

A Multiversal Game.

A conflict orchestrated by higher beings to avoid full-scale war across multiple universes.

The Battleground: A world constructed as a patchwork of different realities—fragments from games, books, and movies.

The Players: Summoned individuals acting as proxies for these powerful entities.

The Wild Cards: People like me, who weren't summoned but forced into the game through unknown means.

The Rules: The higher beings couldn't directly interfere—only offer limited assistance in the form of a single ability.

Shaun had received an ability, but… it was worthless.

Seeker.

An assistive, support-type ability. No flashy combat power. Nothing impressive.

"Useless," Shaun thought.

A voice immediately cut through his mind.

"Useless? Seriously? I am a box of knowledge filled with information beyond your comprehension. Considering you know nothing about this world, this game, or even the rules—you should be thanking me."

Shaun didn't react.

Seeker was only visible and audible to him. More like an advanced AI assistant than an actual battle ability.

"A glorified Google search."

Seeker huffed.

"Insult me again, boy, and let me remind you about the artifact you found—the Eye of Symphony it was because of me."

Shaun exhaled slowly.

"Fine. You were useful once. But until I figure out an actual way to make use of you, don't disturb me unless I ask."

The voice went silent.

Shaun leaned back, exhaling. He still had a long way to go.

First, he had to finalize loose ends, gather resources, and strengthen his position.

Then, he would train.

Shaun took another sip of tea, his gaze drifting to the broken walls, the collapsed ceilings, the remains of a once-proud estate.

This place was a corpse.

And yet, he was still here.

Why?

Sentiment? No, he had never been one for that.

Unfinished business? Maybe.

Or perhaps it was simply habit—sitting here, drinking tea, as if everything was still normal.

Across from him, Rosie stood stiffly, staring at the floor, her hands clenched together. She still hadn't recovered.

"...Rosie."

Her shoulders flinched. Slowly, she lifted her gaze.

"Y-Yes, Master Shaun?"

He studied her. She had changed.

Not physically, but in that quiet, devastating way people do when they've seen too much, too fast.

"Sit."

She hesitated but obeyed, lowering herself into the chair.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, Shaun finally sighed.

"I know times are hard," he said evenly. "You, too, don't look well. The mansion is in ruins. I was already struggling to pay you properly, and now… all of this has happened."

Rosie tensed.

Shaun leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His next words came slowly, carefully.

"I've decided to sell this mansion and everything I own here."

Rosie froze.

"…Master, what?"

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Her voice wavered, shock breaking through her numb expression.

"What will happen to you?" she asked, panic creeping into her tone. "You won't have anywhere to go! I don't care about payment—I can still work for you, I can manage somehow! You even let me use the garden for my own purposes—"

Shaun simply watched her.

Her voice, once hesitant, was finally cracking.

The air inside the broken mansion was heavy. Dust drifted lazily through the shafts of afternoon sunlight, illuminating the cracks in the walls and the remnants of a past that no longer existed.

Shaun sat calmly, tea in hand, while Rosie stood before him, her eyes pleading but her body tense.

He sighed.

"Even if you can manage somehow, I can't." His voice was steady, his expression unreadable. "There are things I need to do, and managing a mansion like this is no small task. You know that, right?"

Rosie bit her lip, but Shaun continued.

"I'm planning to travel, to learn a few things. I'll support myself somehow."

A lie.

In his mind, Shaun scoffed. That's just an excuse—an easy reason so people won't question my disappearance. The truth is, I want to train under Warden as much as I like, without interference.

But Rosie wasn't convinced. If anything, she looked even more disheartened.

"M-Master… I know it's not my place to speak, but… I promise you, I will find a way!" She took a step closer, determination shining through her sadness. "I can use the garden to grow medicinal herbs—I can sell them and earn enough for both of us! So please… please leave this idea behind! You're just ten! I'll work ten times harder!"

Shaun sighed again, this time deeper.

"Overworking will kill you."

Rosie flinched at his cold tone.

"Don't you have a life, Rosie? A future? Why waste it all on someone like me?" His voice softened slightly, but his words remained sharp. "I'll give you some land. You can grow whatever you want—flowers, herbs, anything. But don't throw away your life for my sake."

Now, take the damn land and let me go, you fool.

I need to train. I have a very important fight ahead—I don't have time to play noble.

But Rosie's eyes hardened.

She shook her head, frustration bubbling beneath her usually timid demeanor.

"No! No, I can say the same about you, Master!" Her voice rose slightly. "Why are you throwing your life away?! What if you end up like those mercenaries—the Gafnar Knights who burned the town?!"

Her fists clenched.

"Let's stay together and figure something out! We can survive if we work together!"

Her determination was absolute.

Shaun watched her, his expression unreadable, but inside, his thoughts were racing.

Damn it.

There are only two ways to deal with this now—either I run away or… I kill her.

Of course, killing her was out of the question.

Running wouldn't benefit me until I secured the money from selling everything. But killing her just because she actually cares?

That would be pathetic.

So, Shaun exhaled and conceded.

"Fine. You win."

For a moment, Rosie's face lit up with joy.

But then—

"But."

Rosie froze. The happiness flickered from her face, replaced with tension.

Shaun leaned forward slightly, his golden eyes locking onto hers.

"I don't plan on relying on you. I'm just taking your advice." His voice was quiet, yet firm. "I'll still sell my noble title, my land, and anything extra—except this mansion."

Rosie blinked in surprise.

"I also plan to learn new skills—magic, crafting, whatever I can. I'll train. And sometimes, I'll leave for long periods of time to do that if needed."

Then, he dropped the final blow.

"So now, tell me—do you really still want to stay? Even after knowing all that?"

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"You'll be serving a ten-year-old with no money, no noble status, and a crumbling mansion. Your life might become even more dangerous than before."

Just say no.

Just say no and walk away.

But instead—

Rosie beamed.

A gigantic, genuine smile.

"Yes."

Shaun's face remained blank.

But internally—

"Why."

"Just why."

"Are you an idiot?"

"It's hopeless. Seriously, it's hopeless."

"Whatever."

Then, from the corner of the ruined hall—

A voice chuckled.

"Nice, Rosie. You did a good job."

Shaun's head snapped up.

Standing near the doorway, Countess Redwood sipped her tea gracefully, an amused smile playing on her lips.

Her sharp eyes glimmered with satisfaction.

The ruined mansion was hardly the place for noble guests, yet here she was, lingering like a stubborn stain.

Shaun sighed dramatically and leaned back in his chair.

"Aren't you overstaying your welcome, Countess? Just leave already, for god's sake."

Countess Redwood arched a perfectly shaped brow, unfazed.

"You don't hold back, do you?"

Shaun tilted his head.

"Do I need to? Give me a valid reason why I should." He gestured vaguely at the destruction around them. "You're partially responsible for my mansion looking like a haunted house."

At this, Klos—her ever-loyal knight—bristled but kept his composure.

"Lord Shaun, my lady is injured, as you can see. She was simply resting and recovering."

Shaun blinked, looking around in exaggerated confusion.

"Does this ruin of a mansion look like a hospital to you?"

Countess Redwood let out a light chuckle, choosing diplomacy over irritation.

"Please don't be like this, Lord Shaun. Anyway, what was that plan you were talking about?"

Shaun narrowed his eyes. "Were you eavesdropping on me?"

The Countess casually raised a hand, silencing Klos before he could speak.

"Believe me, I was simply on my way to speak with you when I happened to overhear some parts of it." She smiled. "And I wondered if there was anything I could do to help."

Shaun's deadpan expression didn't change.

"Oh, yes. You definitely can."

For a brief moment, her eyes lit up in interest—until Shaun finished his sentence.

"By leaving. And by not disturbing me with whatever nonsense you wanted to talk about."

The Countess's smile twitched ever so slightly. In her mind, she pondered, What a cheeky child. How is he so fearless at such a young age? He talks as if he has a blade in his mouth. Such a mismatch between that cute, teddy-like appearance and the monstrous power he possesses…

Still, she remained composed.

"Please, Lord Shaun, let me assist you in some way. At least hear me out."

Shaun sighed dramatically again.

"Fine. Rosie, get the lady some cookies." He paused. "Or don't bother if we don't have any."

Rosie blinked at the command but hurried off anyway.

The Countess gracefully took a seat as Shaun lazily waved a hand.

"Now, get to the point. Fast."

It wasn't a request—it was an order.

Klos clenched his fists.

"You can't speak to a noble like that, Master Shaun."

Shaun's eyes locked onto him, cold and unreadable.

"Oh?" He leaned forward slightly. "Or what? What exactly are you going to do?"

Klos froze. His mouth opened slightly before he caught himself, suddenly reminded of who he was talking to.

The Countess giggled softly.

"Let it go, Klos. We owe Lord Shaun our lives. He can say whatever he wants." She sipped her tea, then added with a small smirk, "If anything, I find it… cute."

Shaun's expression didn't change, but his voice did. It was sharp now, cutting through the air like a blade.

"So. What do you actually want?"

The Countess set down her cup.

"I'll be straightforward with you. Were you behind what happened in Daraemore? And… Heron's downfall?"

Shaun didn't blink.

"No. Why? What happened to him?"

The Countess and Klos exchanged glances.

She stared at him. Hard.

Finally, she exhaled.

"I don't know how you did it… but fear not, I don't intend to rat you out."

Shaun tilted his head slightly, feigning confusion.

She ignored it and continued.

"Though I do find your methods a bit… extreme. But at the very least, civilian lives were spared. Aid has already been sent to the town—many powerful nobles have stepped in to ensure the people recover."

She folded her hands in her lap.

"That's the same thing happening here, isn't it? You might have had your reasons, but you don't realize how much you've helped me just by removing Heron. He was a monster—how many lives he destroyed, we may never fully know."

Her eyes darkened.

"And yet, I can't help but wonder… about the massive force that uprooted evil overnight." She looked straight into Shaun's eyes. "What if you're just another monster?"

For a second, the room was silent.

Then—

Shaun let out a light chuckle.

"Monsters, heroes—who cares?" His voice was almost lazy. "If given ample reason, I'll fight anyone. If not, I'd rather not bother."

His eyes gleamed.

"Same goes for my actions. I don't do anything without a reason. Efficiency and effectiveness—that's all that matters."

He tilted his head.

"Are you done now?"

The Countess studied him for a long moment before nodding.

She rose from her seat, but just before leaving, she gestured to Klos.

"Give Lord Shaun the check."

Klos handed Shaun a blank check.

"A gift," the Countess said smoothly. "My way of thanking you."

Shaun barely glanced at it.

Then—he snapped his fingers.

A small fireball, no bigger than a fingertip, flickered to life. It hovered for a second—then dropped onto the check, reducing it to ash.

The Countess's lips parted slightly in amusement.

"Oh, Master Shaun, I didn't mean to offend you. I simply wanted to assist you—truly."

Shaun didn't even look at her.

"Did I ask for your help?"

She sighed, a soft, knowing smile on her lips.

"As you said, I am partially responsible for your mansion being in this state. Think of this as a fine, then."

Shaun raised an eyebrow.

"Do I look like a fool to you?" His voice was like steel. "Mind your business, Countess. You are an outsider. Act like one."

Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.

"Now leave. I have a meeting to attend."

The Countess watched him go, eyes gleaming with intrigue.

What an interesting child.

As Shaun's small figure disappeared down the hall, the air in the ruined mansion remained tense.

Klos, who had been silently fuming, finally exhaled in frustration.

"What is his problem? How can he act like this towards you, my lady?"

The Countess, however, looked entirely unbothered. She took a delicate sip of her tea before setting the cup down with an amused smile.

"It's fine. Consider it part of his nature. Nothing can be done about it." Her fingers tapped lightly on the rim of her cup. "Though… I suppose giving him money wasn't the best idea."

Klos scoffed.

"Such a massive ego—even when he's in need of money to the point of selling his noble title!"

The Countess simply laughed softly, her eyes glinting with something between amusement and intrigue.

"Oh, Klos… He's not arrogant—he's calculating. He has his own way of doing things. I'm just curious what exactly he's trying to accomplish."

She leaned back, glancing at the flickering candlelight.

"At first, he wanted to disappear entirely. He made up all those excuses to justify it. But now… he's altered his plans, just slightly, because of Rosie."

She sighed dramatically, her lips curling into a playful smirk.

"Let's wait and see what he does next. Ahh, he's so adorable and plushie-like… as long as he keeps his mouth shut."

Klos fought the urge to groan. Was she serious?

In his mind, he muttered, Do we even need to do this? I'm starting to think my lady just wants to collect Shaun like some rare treasure because he's caught her interest…

Still, he outwardly nodded.

"Well, sooner or later, he will realize just how powerful you are, my lady. How beneficial it is to be on your side. And once he does, he will come to see you as his strongest supporter, no doubt."

He gave a small, almost smug smile.

"He may be strong, but he still lacks social sense. As he grows, he'll realize his mistake."

Just then, Rosie returned, carrying a tray of tea and cookies. She set them down carefully before standing by Shaun's now-empty seat.

The Countess, feeling playful, decided to probe a little.

"Rosie," she asked, her tone light, "just out of curiosity… who is Shaun meeting with?"

Rosie blinked before answering.

"If I'm not mistaken, Baron Eldric is coming today."