Ash’s body was slumped against the floor once again for the second time.

With a wary gaze, the young boy awoke and found himself increasingly alarmed and bewildered.

After looking back down at his body, he made a relieved expression and picked himself off the floor.

“What the fuck was that nightmare…”

He had no clue what was going on anymore. He was trapped inside his own body, without being able to move. When he was overcome with rage, his consciousness darted against a barrier before he regained control over his limbs.

“Fuck.”

Everything was a clusterfuck for him.

“What the hell is this shit?!”

“Oh whoa. Now this is new haha.”

Ash froze before realizing it was the same voice from before. All of the sudden his problems had a solution as his anger coagulated and raised its fiery head towards Jackson.

“Fucker get the hell out of my body and take this crap with you!”

Jackson responded back in exhaustion.

“Chile. Let’s call a truce for now. I’m just as confused as you are as to why I’m here…”

Inside of his head, Ash had a vague image of a man thinking while frowning.

“That’s weird. I don’t remember writing about Ash in his teen years? Status screen! Open sesame! Administrator, help! Fuck, nothing’s popping up. Anyhow–”

The weird fuck seemed to recover quickly from his rambles.

“It’s something that’ll help you as we go along. I should do a proper introduction. I’m Jackson, the writer of this world. In other words, you could say I’m kinda like a god. The god of Salaria and your creator. ”

Ash was a bit taken aback as he felt his anger fade a little in confusion and curiosity. But it was still more parts anger.

“What the hell is that shit? Are you delusional? Why the fuck is a scriptor interfering with the world. Everyone from slums to the scholars in Crania know that shit is impossible!”

The most intervention that occurred was a prophecy at one of the temples. But even that responsibility was given only to the loftiest of the high priests based on their devotion to their gods–their all knowing narrators that determined the fates of the people of Salaria. On top of that, he never heard of anyone being able to directly communicate with a god. But that drew the question. How was it possible that this strange man was talking to him in his body?

“Hmmm. If I had to be honest…I don’t really know why I’m here?”

“...”

It was a hopeless case. That ditzy ass tone of his was sincere…

“Ahhh. Don’t look at me with that cold gaze!”

Nothing made sense. But. If this strange man really didn’t know, even if he was a Trace Specter that took over his boy, if he really just died one day and woke up here…or even if he was lying. There was nothing he could do at the moment.

Ash tsked and decided to ignore the weirdo for as long as he could. He had to get out of this cage first. He spent fourteen years getting used to taking crap from others.

“Excusez-moi! Pay attention to me! Protagonist!!”

Jackson was sobbing in the background but Ash took no notice to that.

He’d think about it later.

After spending a while in relative boredom while ignoring the weirdo, the guard from earlier popped out nervously.

With nervous, shifty eyes, the baby squirrel spat out his verse.

“Young sire…your father is telling you to meet him in his office…”

“Alright. Lead the way.”

It was about time he had to greet the count.

__________

The Kurton manor was a homely estate built generations ago in the kingdom of Windcir. It was a multi-layered structure with portraits of the family heads lined in its halls, the first Kurton who was officiated by the original monarchy in times long past. It was decorated with the family’s color green, the same color as the eyes of the family’s silver snake emblem. For the first head was as cunning as a viper and once rumored to have been the child of a snake beast specter. Of course the family denied it at every turn, believing themselves to be above such lowly creatures. “Do everything with dignity and purpose, and make it so that generations to come will realize your dreams.” It was in this way that the Kurtons were able to continue long past their competitors and work against the multiple noble territorial factions, past the years of the war which took a hit to the Kurton’s financial circumstances. There was nothing more important to the family than honor, nothing more honorable than chivalry and pride. It was in this way that the knights of the family would raise their heads in times both good and bad, and so the legacy would continue passed every generation as the generation past ordained it.

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Yet in recent times the family had fallen below its past station. Windcir has changed and shifted and Kurton's stubborn reliance on the past left its descendents with bleak possibilities. The past monarchy was overthrown a decade ago. King Andres, the ruler of Windcir, was of beast specter birth and had heavily suppressed fiefdoms that relied on beast specter slave trade and labor. As a result, there was a decrease in agricultural production and technology that led Windcir to a recessionary period the country had barely recovered from with the taxation pardons of the current legislation. The decline continued in the fiefdoms that were unsuccessful in finding other commodities in their territory. The Kurton manor was ill kept, the servants were uncomfortable with their weakened masters, and despite the improvements in the fabric industry and clothing technology in the time since, the residents of the mansion kept their worn fabrics and leathers from ages long ago.

This was all knowledge that his stepmother and brother told him. This was all information that was useless to Ash who didn’t give a flying fuck about his distant family, but he couldn’t help think about it when he walked through the halls of relics and ancestry.

The squirrel guard in front of him was still shaking like a bitch, and the blabbermouth was still quacking like the bird brain he was.

He arrived in front of his father’s office. After taking a deep breath in, he entered the room.

The count looked the same as usual. He was a grim looking man that bore the image of nobility. His hair was a light shade of gray with his eyes with the same shade, his clothing crisp and clean. He looked extraordinarily young despite his age, although Ash did see his eyebags had darkened exponentially over the years. He overheard the servant staff praising Noah Kurton as a man of great beauty but Ash never saw it. If anything, the count’s eyes were always dull and lifeless in his memories, his voice too distant and indifferent to uncover any sort of passion. Always removed from the situation, never fully present.

By his side stood a raven haired maid with a reserved expression. She was a delicate looking woman with dark eyes and pale skin, reminiscent of that to a doll. Despite surely hearing Ash enter she made no remark or indicated that she noticed him as if she was trying to become one with the furniture in the background. Ash felt his chest tighten and fluster with indignation. It was Corvina who would witness this incident.

“Greetings count.”

Ash entered the room with a carefully respectful voice. Despite being his father, he was more of a stranger to him and he never addressed him as such.

The count shifted and eyed his son. His cold silver eyes were as emotionless as usual. He echoed in the same listless way he did as long as he could remember.

Ash was a bit nervous. He could never tell what he was thinking.

“Ash Kurton. Your brother complains of his injuries. I checked it personally, and his shoulder, rib, and knee are bruised. He will recover. But–”

Silver eyes pierced through Ash in scrutiny.

“There’s still the matter of your punishment. Do you know what you did wrong?”

Still speaking in indirect rhetorics. It irked Ash to no degree.

Steeling himself, he tried his best to keep a clear voice and keep the emotion out of his voice.

“...Yes, count. I…”

“Ashhhhh. Listen to me for real this time.”

A frosty and loud tone rang through his mind. It was Jackson.

“Don’t apologize. You don’t know your father that well. He’s genuinely trying to have you explain why you did it.”

Ash was starting to get irked at this annoying bastard. He ignored him and continued his sentence.

“I’m sorry for punching Curtis in the face. Please forgive me.”

He continued to stare directly at the count with a strong gaze.

“I did something wrong. I’ll accept any punishment you give.”

This was what Ash had and will continue to endure. Until he could leave this fucked place on his own.

Count Kurton stared melancholically at his child. Shifting in his chair, he inched closer to him in a manner that made Ash flinch. His father’s mouth drew into a taut line before opening his mouth and closing it once more. He gave a mechanical response.

“Ash Kurton. Your punishment for your crimes is to stay inside your room for the next week. Corvina will continue to tend to you as you continue to work through your studies.”

Ash unclenched his fists and responded without emotion.

“Yes, count.”

Ash bowed his head in steadfast resignation and replied curtly.

“Thank you for your leniency.”

“Ah, this dumbass…”

“You’re dismissed. Corvina.”

It was her cue to leave the room with him.

“Yes, master.”

Corvina walked complacently over to Ash. She was as calm and tranquil as ever. But after knowing her for this long, Ash could detect the faint trace of a smile in greeting and the warmth in her eyes as she went to his left.

Ash’s father continued to go over his documents without batting an eye to his son. He continued to work on his documents as Ash last saw the vision of his father through the door crack before Corvina completely closed the door.

Heaving a sigh of relief, Ash walked away but his peace was interrupted by a noisy bastard.

Jackson was in agony after they left the room.

“Ahhhh, you dumbass! Can’t you tell your father didn’t want you to apologize?”

“Stupid idiot number one and two have communication problems…oh god I remember why you were voted as the most annoying character in “my love interests are obsessed with me, kya! My god, why did I make such a jaded child like you…”

He was saying some annoying nonsensical crap… Ash decidedly ignored him and looked towards Corvina.

Her look of tranquil reservation shifted into a vibrant smile as enthusiastic as a flower in full bloom.

“Young mas–Ash. It seems you’ll have to bear with me for a bit longer.”

Ash grunted before turning his head away from her gaze.

“You think too much.”

She chuckled sweetly, her hands neatly folded across the front of her white apron. She looked put together as usual.

“No, not at all. Thank you for allowing a lowly servant to address you by name in private.”

“Oh~ I see how it is.”

Ash started to feel his face turn red but kept his face neutral. Later…when she wasn’t around…he clenched his fist together. The noisy bastard was going to get a mouthful.

“It’s uncomfortable to hear a long title every time. Let’s stop dilly dallying. I’ll be at the training hall closeby, so just stick to your other duties for now.”

“Yes, Ash. If you need anything, please call my name and I’ll be there in a heartbeat.”

“For how pretty she is…it really is a shame. Kiddo, make sure you get to know someone well before pursuing them...”

She gave one last reserved smile before silently walking off. Ash stared at her back for a moment. He had forgotten how delicate her frame was. She didn’t seem like someone accustomed to hard labor, but he knew better. She excelled as a servant for the Kurtons for as long as he could remember.

More importantly. He had someone he needed to shush. He walked off into a quiet corner and punched the wall. With a cold fiery gaze, he glared down the hallway and whispered.

“Bastard. Don’t. You. Dare fucking mouth off in public.”

“Eek! I don’t remember creating a rabid child like you!”

“Shut up shut up shut up!”

“Crazy…all you have to do is not respond if you care that much. Although I’ll have to see if you’re able to bear with it.”

“Hahh? Is that a challenge motherfucker.”

If he dared to say such a thing, he should take responsibility. Ash strode off to the training hall to let out some steam.

________

Corvina stopped by her private quarters in the midst of her duties for a quick break. Before she opened the door to her private room she worked hard for, as the head maid, she made sure to check her right and left carefully and cautiously. She opened the door quickly and shut it even faster. Despite the impact there was barely any noise made. It was a result of her arduous servant training that her masters and her predecessor praised her for.

Well, not that the former head maid or even the current Kurton head would approve of her current activities. If she was ever found out there would be a price to pay. But the rewards were… too scrumptious to resist.

Looking around her neatly arranged bedroom, she walked over to her wooden closet and opened the door delicately with the grace of a noblewoman.

“Keee-hehe..”