Sitting in the chair, I stared at the strange blue potion in my hand. Ambrose stood before me, and behind him, Finnan held a tray full of tea and snacks.

"So, I take this, two times a day, and then what?" I recited what Ambrose had told me earlier.

"It will... heal you, lord," the healer replied, but his expression lacked any signs of confidence.

I sighed, feeling a mix of hope and skepticism. There were no neurologists in this era, so the potion was my last chance at regaining the use of my left hand, and I desperately clung to the possibility of a miracle. Yet, the healer's lack of confidence left me uneasy.

"How long will it take to see any improvement?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"It's difficult to say, lord," the man answered cautiously. "It varies from person to person. Some may see improvement within a few days, while for others, it might take weeks or… even longer."

I placed the glass bottle on the table beside me and ran a hand down my face, feeling nothing but frustration. "So, there is no guarantee?" I queried.

"I..." Ambrose hesitated, trying his best to come up with an answer.

"I take that as a no then." I groaned, feeling the weight of uncertainty bearing down on my shoulders.

"We can only hope for the best," Ambrose finally replied, his voice filled with sympathy and a bit of fear.

“… Let’s hope!” I replied with a smile, gesturing for the man to leave and Finnan to come forward. Once Ambrose was gone, he left the tray on the table and gently slid it towards me.

"Tea, lord," Finnan said, a pleasing smile on his face.

I nodded, savoring the aroma yet in no mood to drink or eat. My mind just wouldn’t leave my hand alone. It felt like a phantom limb, a part of me that was missing, and its absence was a constant reminder of my limitations.

“Are you not feeling well, lord?” Noticing my actions, Finnan asked, concern evident in his eyes.

“Not really." I reached for the cup with my able hand and took a sip, relishing the warm and familiar taste.

“Then… why do you look down?” he inquired.

In response, I raised my left arm, the hand dangling uncontrollably. "Do you need a better reason?" I asked bitterly.

“… But Lady Isolde said you were over it since yesterday," Finnan answered, sounding confused.

I scoffed, "Have you ever heard of a small concept called lying?”

Contrary to my expectations, Isolde had shown an extraordinary level of compassion for me. It was a testament to her deep love for the man named Arwan, I guessed. I didn't know how Arwan might have acted, but for me, I would never burden anyone who cared for me with more worries than necessary.

His expression softened, and he spoke gently, "I understand, lord. This must be incredibly difficult for you."

I glanced at him, appreciating his empathy. "Difficult is an understatement," I muttered, slowly swaying the porcelain cup to see ripples appear one after another in the tea.

Finnan took a deep breath, as if gathering courage, and then said, "But if anyone can overcome this, it's you, my lord. I've seen you face challenges head-on, and you've always found a way to prevail."

I leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling for a moment. "I wish I had your confidence," I admitted. "Right now, all I see is a bleak future."

He shook his head, "You've faced worse, and you've come out on top. I believe in you, lord."

The sincerity in his voice tugged at something inside me, and I found a small spark of determination igniting within. I didn’t know what this Arwan guy had faced and overcome, but I sure had achieved many feats back home.

"Perhaps you're right," I said quietly, "I've survived this long. Won't let this setback define me."

Finnan smiled, encouragement shining in his eyes. "That's the spirit, my lord."

As I took another sip of tea, I felt a newfound sense of resolve. I might have lost the full use of my left hand, but I still had my wits and my willpower. The guys that left me crippled were still out there, and without having a word with them, I wasn't going anywhere.

When I finished the tea and dropped the cup back on the tray, Finnan declared. “If we may, lord, let us be on our way.”

"Where?" I asked Finnan and he gestured at the door.

"His grace wishes to see you," he explained.

"Oh." I pinned my hand on the table to steady myself as I stood on my still weak legs. "Let's go then."

With Finnan's support, I made my way towards the door, feeling a mix of anticipation and determination. I needed answers, and I was prepared to get them, no matter the consequences.

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As we walked through the halls of the mansion, I couldn't help but admire the many paintings hung on the walls around us, few of which painted the picture of the whole Willard family, including Arwan’s brother and sister. It was good to have an idea of their faces for our eventual meeting.

His grace, Count Eduart von Willard, awaited in his study. As we entered, he looked up from his desk, surprise evident on his face. "Ah, Arwan," he said, using the name of the man whose body I now inhabited. "I didn't expect to see you up and about so soon."

“Circumstances." I replied, drawing closer.

The count studied me for a moment, perhaps noting something off in my demeanor, but he didn't push further. "Very well," he said with a nod. "Have a seat."

I took the chairs in front of the desk, while Finnan stood behind me, hands behind his back. The room was adorned with rich tapestries, bookshelves lined with dusty tomes, and an air of authority befitting a noble's study.

“Call Derek,” the count ordered, and Finnan quickly left the room in search of the man in question. While he was absent, the high-lord faced me, donning a grave expression.

“I know you can’t forgive me, son,” he said, his voice heavy with remorse. “But please, help me make this right. Do not go in blind and attempt anything on your own. This incident is bigger and may prove complex than I expected.”

I looked at the count, his words sinking in. Just what type of dumbass this Arwan was? That was my first thought. Who acts without any back up or preparation? The second one. Bigger and complex than a Count expected? And the third one.

Combining my thoughts, I could draw a clear picture. The man was a certified clown, as expected, rushing to take revenge without preparation and whatnot. But the situation going beyond the likes of a Count got me thinking.

I knew the attack was deliberate, and the attacker wanted to send a clear message, but how did it get bigger and more complex? Wasn't it simple? The motive being, "Pay us back or we could and might hurt you and your family more."

If it wasn’t then, just how big this debt fiasco was? I speculated for a moment.

“Arwan,” the Count called, observing me lost in thoughts. “You heard what I said?”

“Yes.” I shook my head in agreement. “I will do what you say.”

While I couldn't bring myself to forgive him completely for what he had done, I understood the weight of his plea. Whatever had transpired, it seemed to have far-reaching consequences, and I couldn't deny that I needed the count's resources and assistance to navigate this unfamiliar world.

“Good,” Eduart smiled, and refocused on the parchment laid across his desk. I, on the other hand, sat silently, contemplating the millions the man before me owed to others, until a soft knock on the door interrupted my thoughts.

The Count permitted entry, and in walked Finnan alongside a middle-aged, tall man with a long scar running across his face. They both bowed, and as Eduart gestured, the unknown man took a seat, while Finnan resumed his standing position behind me.

The scarred man's eyes met mine briefly, and I could sense a mixture of curiosity, yet awareness in his gaze. He likely knew Arwan and what he was capable of, yet, I was shooting blanks, unaware of his intentions.

Eduart cleared his throat, breaking the momentary silence. "Arwan, you might know him already, but allow me to introduce Derek, one of our most trusted advisors and a skilled tactician."

Derek inclined his head respectfully. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Arwan."

I nodded in acknowledgment. "Likewise, Derek."

The Count leaned forward, clasping his hands together. "Derek has been investigating the recent attack on you and the threats we've received. His expertise has proven invaluable in uncovering the motives and the individuals behind these nefarious acts."

Derek interjected, his voice steady and composed. "We believe that the attack on you is part of a larger conspiracy, aimed at destabilizing Seiren and weakening our rule. The perpetrators are skilled, and they seem to have an intricate network of supporters."

Wait! So, it’s not about money. But about the ruling. That didn’t sit well with me. How did it suddenly become a clandestine mission to take over the estates?

“I think you already know this, but the guys that attacked me explicitly told that it was all about the debt.” I clarified, trying to guide them down the right path. “I would have never been attacked, if it was paid back in time.”

“Yes.” Derek agreed. “We know that, Lord Arwan. But we must take the bigger picture into consideration. If we don’t solve the problem once and for all, these small issues will keep arising over and over again.”

“What do you consider the… biggest problem?” I asked, annoyed by his blatant disregard for the severity of the attack on me.

“Imminent threat to our ruling.” The man answered without missing a beat. “Seiren’s destabilization is all they want in the long-run. And they wouldn’t stop, I assure you.”

I leaned forward, eager to understand more of this baseless information. "Do you have any leads on who could be behind this? Any ideas who are “they”?"

Derek hesitated for a moment before responding, his brows furrowing in thought. "We have suspicions, but nothing concrete yet. The perpetrators have been careful to leave minimal traces, and they strike from the shadows, just as they did with you."

“Can you establish who are ‘they’ or not?” I put forward an ultimatum.

“… Not yet. But we will, soon.” He immediately turned to the count. “For that, lord, we need resources that we don’t currently have. If we can somehow arrange it…”

"This is pointless," I muttered to myself, frustration seeping into my words, though they were loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Lord?" Derek exchanged glances between me and the Count, disapproval evident in his expression. "Do you disregard my efforts?"

"Same as you disregard my injuries," I retorted, my tone tinged with irritation.

"Not once have I done that," the man replied, his voice growing a bit sharp. "Do you have any proof?"

"As well, not once have I disregarded your efforts," I countered, meeting his gaze directly. "Do you have any proof of that?"

"You just said this conversation was pointless,"

"Equally, you said these small attacks on the very lives of the rulers will keep happening."

The advisor paused, his eyes scrutinizing me from head to toe. "Since when did you learn to talk back to your elders in such a mannerless way, Arwan? Not that you had any manners to begin with," he said, maintaining a facade of calmness, but his face betrayed his emotions.

“Do you intend to imply that the Count and Countess failed at parenting?” I inquired, glancing at the now irritated Count. I wasn't particularly bothered by the insult, but I couldn't let this man's audacity go unchallenged.

“What… What I mean is…” Derek's eyes widened with sudden realization as he tried to correct himself.

“Just what do you intend to inform us, Derek?” The Count leaned forward, fingers intertwined, his face carrying a deadpan look.