The carriage rolled to a halt, its wheels creaking to a stop on the gravel path that led to the Carlstein Barony. Even before stepping out, I could sense the stark contrast between this place and Romer. The warmth that characterized my home was absent here, replaced by an overwhelming aura of cold efficiency.

Sitting across from me, Lilian watched the landscape shift with curiosity and unease. Her eyes narrowed when the carriage moved deeper into the city, and she caught a glimpse of the dark, towering structure of the mansion through the window.

“It’s so different from Romer… It feels colder and harsher,” she muttered, her voice tinged with a note of discomfort.

I nodded, sharing her sentiment. “It’s like that because it has to be,” I replied, my tone flat. “This isn’t just the home of a noble—it’s a fortress.”

As my horse-riding knights outside conversed with the guards at the mansion gate, I allowed my gaze to sweep over the area. The Carlstein mansion loomed ahead, its dark gray, gothic-style architecture starkly contrasting with the vibrant greenery surrounding Romer. Here, there were no such luxuries—only hard stone, towering spires, and a moat that circled the entire estate like a snake coiled around its prey.

The air here was heavy with the scent of iron and earth, a reminder of the military alacrity that defined this place. Carlstein wasn’t built for comfort or aesthetics; it was built for war.

The estate itself felt more like an armed outpost than a noble’s home. The guards stationed at regular intervals along the walls, the strategic placement of watchtowers, and the imposing gates—all of it screamed of defense rather than hospitality.

“Why’s-”

Lilian started, but a voice interrupted her from outside. “Young master, we have to get off here,” Sir Carlos called, making me frown.

So we aren’t even allowed to take the carriage inside? Even if it’s a border city, that was pretty disrespectful to the son of a Count—the fiance of the house’s young lady, no less.

I stepped out of the carriage, my boots crunching against the gravel as I took in the grim surroundings. A massive, black-painted gate stood before me, already being opened by the guards.

In the meantime, maidservants approached us with polite smiles, their heads bowed in respect, but there was a distance in their demeanor that hadn’t been present in Romer. These were people accustomed to living on the edge, and their eyes reflected the hardness that came with it. They took our bags and belongings and headed back inside the mansion when the gate opened.

I guessed even the bags would go through inspection inside.

“You were saying, Lilian?”

Lilian followed, her gaze darting around as she absorbed the atmosphere, as she continued her question. “I was saying, why’s it so fortified?” she asked.

I glanced at her, noting the genuine curiosity in her tone. “I guess you don’t know much about the border towns, eh?” I said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of my lips. “Carlstein is one of the last lines of defense before the border. Beyond that lies the Kingdom of Roshmar,” I recalled the name from the Game. “It’s a small kingdom sandwiched between us and the Erebian Empire on the other side.”

Lilian’s eyes widened slightly, and I could see her piecing the information together. “And if Roshmar falls to the other side, then the Erebian Empire would be right on our doorstep. Is that it?” she asked, understanding dawning in her voice.

“Exactly,” I confirmed, my gaze shifting back to the mansion. “That’s why this place is so fortified. If Roshmar were ever to fall, it could spark a war between the two empires. Carlstein is a critical stronghold.”

Lilian nodded, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “It’s crazy, though,” she murmured. “Why do big empires always have to fight?”

I didn’t have an answer for that, so I merely shrugged. “Human nature, I suppose.”

“Let us head in, young master,” Sir Carlos said when the guards cleared our entry, moving behind me. Lilian and I led the two dozen knights inside, our heavy boots clattering against the cobblestones.

We stepped through the gates, and my attention was immediately drawn to a figure in the distance. A patch of white hair caught the light, standing out against the darker surroundings. My eyes narrowed, and I recognized my fiancé, standing with a maid, watching our arrival from a distance.

Nebula Carlstein.

[Level 27].

What’s up with her? It’s barely been a month… 5 Levels so fast? How?

I was an anomaly in this world, I killed a 4th Ascension on my own, and then a 9th Ascension vampire demigod. My growth made sense. Hers did not. What was she eating?

Regardless, I felt a smile tug on my lips. The table’s been turned. I was now stronger than her.

Nebula receiving me wasn’t unexpected, but there was a certain weight to her gaze as it met mine. The last time we’d spoken, things had been a little complicated. I pushed her down and told her to behave. I was unsure if she would be offended by that or not.

As I approached her, a smile on my face, I took her hand with practiced grace, bending slightly to place a kiss on her knuckles. “Nebula, my sweetheart,” I greeted, the words rolling off my tongue as smoothly as they always did in such formal settings. Kissing the hand was an old custom, I wasn’t used to it, but the original Iskandaar was. The memories helped.

Nebula nodded in acknowledgment, her expression composed, but her eyes held a hint of something frigid even as she revealed a smile. “My dear Iskandaar,” she replied, and I was surprised to see her voice laced with sweetness. “It’s heartwarming to see you well. I’ve heard about your encounter in Lockdarn, are you doing well?”

She’s making a show for the crowd, huh? I released her hand and stood up, while the Knight Order behind me smiled seeing their young master act like a gentleman. It’d have been embarrassing if the lady didn’t show courtesy. How considerate.

“Yes, my dear. Lockdarn gave me a difficult time, but I lucked out and survived,” I said, and her gaze shifted from me. She looked at Lilian.

“You must have taken this girl from there, hm? I don’t recall such a peculiar maid the last time I visited your estate,” she said, blue eyes digging into red.

The vampire looked at her archnemesis, as the lunewolf met her gaze in equal cool. The maid did not bow to her lord’s fiance. Her pride didn’t allow her to.

Both of them had already realized what they were. Perhaps not their exact tribe and family, but their race for sure. Especially the maid behind Nebula, smiling gently at Lilian. She might even know Lilian’s affiliation.

“My, such a prideful maid you have there, young master,” said the old lady, turning her gaze toward me.

Mirella Obsidian.

[Level 58].

An Obsidian not by birth, but by enthralment.

A woman who was once a human, but now a vampire. Servant of Munera Obsidian, Nebula’s mother. I recalled her from the game, as she went to Waybound with Lilian.

Lilian, who had been standing just behind me, had already noticed their scent. There was a frown on her face, her body tense, and I noticed her nostrils flaring slightly. She nudged me subtly, her usually curious eyes now sharp and filled with hate.

“Young master…” she whispered.

“I talked to you about this. Stay quiet.”

Lilian’s eyes flashed with confusion and frustration, but she nodded, backing off.

Mirella noticed the exchange between me and Lilian. Her gaze flickered to the demi-wolf’s ears, her interest piqued. There was something in the way she looked at Lilian—something almost predatory, yet restrained. Could she recognize a Lunewolf tribe member?

Well, I guess silver-haired demi-wolves aren't that common. I showed her a practiced smile, “I am yet to teach her all the noble manners, my apologies. I’m sure my dear doesn’t mind, right?”

Despite the tension simmering beneath the surface, Nebula remained composed, her voice smooth as she addressed me again. “No, of course. Your personal maid can be considered my own. It’d be odd to take offense when you’re not offended, my dear. Let us put that aside. The event will begin soon, my dear. Please, follow me inside,” she said, turning to lead the way into the estate.

Mirella stepped forward as well, her gaze lingering on Lilian for a moment longer before she spoke to Sir Carlos. “I’ll escort you to your quarters, knight sirs. You must be tired from the journey,” she looked at Lilian. “Come, leave the young master alone with the lady.”

“....” Lilian’s gaze sharpened, and she opened her mouth. I spoke over her.

“It’s alright, I was planning to show her the ball. She’ll be accompanying me,” I said, unwilling to find out what’d happen if I left her alone with the thrall vampire of the Obsidian Family. Mirella exchanged glances with Nebula, who nodded.

“Of course, as the young master wishes,” she said, bowing, and then taking the knights away.

“Ah yes, of course. Then I’ll see you later, young master,” Sir Carlos said, and I nodded at him. I exchanged goodbye with Sir Lucas as well.

I watched as the group began to move, the knights falling in line behind Mirella. Nebula started walking, and I stayed back a few steps, exchanging glances with Lilian. She looked at me in confusion, and I whispered with a shake of my head. “She doesn’t know that I know she’s a vampire. She didn’t know it herself, until a year ago, when she turned 18. She grew up as a human, so don’t show signs of aggression. You understand?”

“...I got it,” Lilian slowly nodded, the hate in her eyes dampening, although her gaze remained sharp. Giving her one last nod, I followed Nebula’s figure in the distance toward the foreboding entrance of the Carlstein estate. Lilian stayed still for a moment, and then quickly followed behind.

The mansion loomed above us, its dark stone walls seemingly absorbing the light rather than reflecting it, casting long shadows over the courtyard. As we crossed the threshold into the estate, a sense of unease settled in my chest.

I knew the worry was meaningless, but this place was a fortress in every sense of the word, and now, we were stepping into its dark heart. It felt like I was stepping into a prison.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“I’m glad you’ve come through this door, my dear,” Nebula said when I caught up with her. “If you had taken the main gates, I’d have had to take you to the ball right away. But this way, I’ll be getting to share a conversation with you before that. Let us head in.”

We stepped into the large, fortress-like gate and it closed behind us with a resounding thud, sealing us in with whatever awaited us inside.

****

The pleasant vibe from Nebula earlier slowly dissipated in the air as we walked through the harsh corridors of the mansion. For a minute, our footsteps were the only sound I could hear. Lilian walked a step behind us, still on the edge, with her eyes sharp, her brows tight, and her hands flinching. I looked at her from the corner of my eyes from time to time.

“Pleasant place,” I said, breaking the silence.

“First time you’re taking the initiative to talk, young master,” Nebula didn’t refer to me as her ‘dear’ anymore, I noted with a chuckle. She raised an eyebrow at that, slightly turning to look at me. “This place isn’t as humorous as you’re taking it as, young master.”

“My, is my fiance threatening me right now?”

“I’m not. I gain nothing from endangering you. Just that… it’d be foolish to treat this as your fiance’s pleasant home. I opposed inviting you. But my mother insisted. My brother was all too happy with that, getting a chance to see the ‘trash’ of Romani,” she said before falling silent.

Huh… so it’s like that. I should have known. Nebula and I weren’t good buddies, she made it clear why she accepted the engagement. There was no reason for her to invite me, it was her stepmother’s ploy. What was she planning this time?

“We’re here,” after walking for a bit more, the quietness of the area thinned, and my ears picked up the sound of chattering, and clattering of glasses, among other stuff.

As we approached the grand ballroom’s door, the thought of asking Nebula about the Wraithwoods crossed my mind. But it didn’t seem like the right time. She was worried. The heavy atmosphere ahead demanded focus, and any mention of the forest could wait.

For now, all that mattered was navigating the maze of noble youngsters and their hidden agendas that awaited me inside.

The moment we stepped through the arched entrance, the air shifted.

“Psstt, hey look…”

Dozens of eyes turned to us, the weight of their scrutiny pressing down like a physical force. I ignored them, taking a look around the ballroom. It was a spectacle of wealth and power, the kind of place that screamed luxury from every corner.

Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, casting a soft, golden glow over the polished marble floors. The walls were adorned with intricate artwork and paintings depicting scenes of battles and victories, a not-so-subtle bow to the Carlstein’s storied history. They've been a border town for a long time.

There was an open balcony near the northern side of the room, with evening light falling over it. I doubted the scent of expensive perfumes mingled with the aroma of fine wine reached that place. If I need a moment of solace, I should go there.

Nobles, dressed in the most elaborate gowns and tailored suits, showing off each other, gathered in small groups. Their conversation was a low hum that never quite drowned out the orchestra playing softly in the background.

I could feel their gazes lingering on me, whispers rippling through the crowd like a rustle of leaves. “The trash… whoa, he came here?”

“That's insane… so that's him? He doesn't look as sickly as rumors say, though.”

“In fact, he looks quite good. Is he really trash?”

I saw the glint of surprise in some of their eyes, noting how I appeared sharper, more composed, and undeniably more handsome than the rumors had painted me. The level-ups had done me well. Unfortunately, that surprise was quickly smothered by further hate.

The "trash" of the Romani family, as they called me, was a hard name to get over.

“He may look decent, but he’s still the third son of a count. A sickly nobody,” I overheard one noble say, her voice dripping with disdain. “Don’t get your hopes up about trying anything with him.”

“Well, he’s engaged to Nebula, anyway.”

“Ah, right. Poor girl...”

I'm sure Nebula heard them, she was almost 3rd Ascension, her ears were sensitive enough. For a moment, I wondered how she felt being pitied because her fiancé was being talked about as human trash. She didn't show any reaction.

Lilian wore her surprise more openly. She was surprised to see how the people of Romer talked about me, but perhaps she had assumed that in a Noble setting, it'd be different—that people wouldn't want to talk shit about a Count's son.

The reality was different. I was a Count's third son, not the successor. Iskandaar's fate was quite poor, he's lucky to have died before reaching adulthood properly. He'd have been sent to some faraway land as a Baron or worse, and live a wasted life.

Another voice chimed in, “And who’s that beside him? A workmaid? I didn’t know the Carlstein Barony had a demi-human maid.”

“Maybe she's with the trash?”

Nebula leaned in closer, her smile masking her true feelings. “Let us spend some moments together,” she whispered, her voice low. “After that, I’ll leave you alone. You can look around, enjoy yourself, and all the other stuff. And hopefully, stay out of Luciel’s gaze.”

I scanned the room, searching for any sign of Nebula’s stepbrother. “I don’t see him,” I muttered.

“He’s not here yet,” Nebula replied smoothly, her voice just low. “He'll be here soon when the sun sets.”

We headed towards a table, falling into a casual conversation. As planned, we mingled for a few minutes, Nebula and I talked while Lilian stood stiffly by my side, her posture betraying her discomfort.

The nobles around us kept their distance, wary of engaging with the supposed “trash” of the Romani family. I didn't mind.

“My reputation is worse than I thought,” I said.

“I wonder why,” Nebula said, making me recall the memories of Iskandaar’s behavior. At first, I had thought he wasn't that bad for a noble, but when my memories cleared, I realized that he wasn't quite innocent either.

Iskandaar never realized his reputation was this bad. He was Level 2 trash, while I was Level 30. On top of my sharper senses, my Demonic Sphere let me hear everything better. I heard things that he never had before.

Nebula eventually excused herself, moving to join a group of noble ladies who were eagerly awaiting her presence.

“You,” left to my own devices, I called for one of the servants carrying drinks.

“Y-yes, young master?”

The butler practically trembled, as I took a glass from the tray he was carrying. I decided to excuse him instead of torturing him with my presence. It was a glass of wine, the rich, red liquid swirling lazily in the crystal goblet as I took a sip.

“Mmm,” I let out a sigh. The wine was good, better than I expected.

“Do nobles always drink randomly?” Lilian suddenly asked. She was fidgeting in this tight atmosphere, being looked at by every other noble, so she was likely looking for a way to diverge her attention. I didn't mind helping her, so I answered.

“They do. Although this isn't really ‘random’, a social event like this is made for drinks,” I said.

“I see…”

“Why? The Lunewolves don't drink?”

“Well, we do. But after victories in battle or wars. It's more celebratory. Alcohol is a religious symbol for Luphoran, the God of Beasts, Wilds, and the Untamed. As his worshippers, we love alcohol.” Lilian enlightened me about her God.

“Interesting. Wanna try this?” I raised the cup to her lips, and she blinked rapidly, raising her hand to reject it, but not quite finding it in herself. She loved alcohol. How could she deny the offer to try one?

“Just a little,” she said, leaning forward, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and then sipping the drink. The red wine reflected into her red eyes, a light of pleasant surprise spreading across her face.

“You like it?” I asked as she withdrew her face, wiping her lips.

“It's good. I never had it. Is it called… red wine?”

“Yes, and-”

Our chatter of peace was short-lived. A voice called from the back, interrupting me.

“Hey, Iskandaar!” A loud voice cut through the low murmur of the crowd, and I turned to see a thin, black-haired young man making his way toward me, a cheeky grin on his face.

I frowned, trying to recall him. I recognized just a moment later—Edric Vayne, the first son of a baron and one of the old Iskandaar’s more unsavory companions.

Another trash, in short.

The man was infamous for his despicable desire for slave women, and the memories I had of his cruelty made my skin crawl as I scowled.

I didn’t respond, pretending not to recognize him. Maybe if I ignored him, he’d leave me alone. But the noble wasn’t deterred. He stopped in front of me, his grin faltering as he looked at me over.

“What’s wrong? I heard you hit your head. Did you lose your memory or something? I can't believe my good friend Iskandaar wouldn't greet me back!” he said, his tone half-joking, half-bewildered, as he started laughing.

What's up with him? I frowned. Something didn't feel right.

Before I could reply, his gaze shifted to Lilian, and his grin returned, more lecherous than before. “Forget that. Looks like you’ve got yourself a new plaything, eh? She’s hot as shit, man… I bought a mermaid recently. Played with her enough though. Wanna exchange?”

That made my grip tighten around the goblet, and I felt the muscles in my jaw clench. What the fuck is he yapping about?

Lilian, standing beside me, didn’t fare much better. Her nails grew into claws, thankfully nobody noticed, her eyes flashing with barely contained anger. I couldn’t blame her.

I glared at Edric Vayne. Given my past, it wasn’t entirely his fault that he thought he could walk up to me and talk to me like this, but that didn’t make it any less infuriating.

I still forced a polite smile, trying to steer the conversation away from dangerous waters. “I’m not interested, Edric. You should enjoy your own playthings and leave me alone. You're ruining the taste of my wine.”

The noble’s grin faded, replaced by a scowl. “Hey, what’s the matter with you, Iskandaar? Did you forget how good friends we used to be, just because we haven't hung out for a month? We'd talk about this stuff all the time. Now you’re acting like you’re too good for me?” He stepped closer, his voice rising with each word.

Noticing that there was no point in being polite, I scowled directly at him. “If I'm acting like I don't recognize you, you lowly bastard, shouldn't you just step back and leave me alone?”

Edric’s face contoured in a frown, “Hah, look at you. What happened, Iskandaar? Don’t you remember the shit we used to get up to? Or has that fall made you forget everything? All those nights we spent in the underground brothels, did you forget? Did you forget how you played around with my slaves because your old man wouldn’t let you buy one of your own? The orgies we’d crash, the deals we’d strike in the dark, selling off those poor bastards’ futures for a quick thrill? Or that time we got that servant girl drunk and tossed her into the stables to watch her ‘entertain’ the horses for a laugh?” Edric's grin returned, nastier than his words. "How can you act like you're better than me now, Iskandaar?”

“What?” The words hit me like a punch to the gut. All around me, people burst into gossip.

“This trash did that?! Gross.”

“No way, how is someone like him a noble?!”

This body's memories were a blur—I didn't have full recollection. But even then, I didn't recall anything about most of the stuff he just said. Especially the last one. I never made a maid entertain a fucking horse.

The old Iskandaar was bad, he had been a part of things I would rather not think about, but they weren't this bad.

What the fuck is he talking about?

Was my memory acting up, or was he making shit up on the spot? He didn't stop there, he was still talking. The more he talked, the more it felt like he was exaggerating, fabricating things.

From across the room, I saw Nebula facepalm, clearly embarrassed by the scene. Lilian looked equally stunned, her eyes wide with disbelief at some of the accusations being thrown around.

This was making me mad.

It was one thing about not caring about what people thought of me, as I was far used to people's disdain from my last life, but another to be accused of stuff I've never done.

I felt my jaws clench. I wanted to punch his head in, but this was my fiancé's home. Should I really be causing trouble here? Plus if I beat him now, instead of defending myself against the allegations, it would only prove his point. So I could only be vocal about it.

“I-” Just as I was about to deny everything, a loud voice cut through the tension, silencing the room.

“Oh, Edric, my friend,” the voice called, laced with mock concern. “Even if he has a past, he’s still my sister’s fiancé. How can you say all that out loud?”

All heads turned toward the grand staircase, where a young man was descending with deliberate grace. His brown hair and blue eyes marked him as a Carlstein, but it was the smirk on his lips that I registered first.

Luciel Carlstein. The birthday boy.

His arrival now out of all times was anything but a coincidence. I could see it in the way he moved, in the calculated look in his eyes as he approached. Much of what the baron’s son had said was likely fabricated by Luciel himself, all part of a twisted game to humiliate me in front of everyone.

The realization sunk into my eyes slowly, as my frown vanished. So this is what she warned me about, I see.

The room fell silent as Luciel reached the bottom of the stairs, his gaze locked on mine. “Hey there,” he said, his voice mocking me. “Brother-in-law.”

Seeing him look down brought out something primal in me; my pride, my rage that drove me during my kickboxing career. The Heavenly Demon’s memories amplified whatever fire ignited within me, and for a moment, I saw red.

Out of sheer willpower did I stop myself from making a mess of his face.