Undercurrents at the Breakfast Table

Leon nearly used both hands and feet to climb back in from the balcony to his luxurious yet somewhat cold bedroom. Only when his feet touched the soft, thick monster-hide carpet did he let out a slight breath of relief, though his heart still pounded in his chest like a drum.

A duel... the son of the Deputy Commander of the City Guard... Those words were like icy water, extinguishing the last trace of disorientation he had felt after transmigrating. The mess left behind by the original owner was far more troublesome—and far deadlier—than he had imagined.

He strode to the ornate silver washstand in the corner of the room and splashed cold water over his face. The biting chill made him shudder and cleared much of the chaos in his mind. Reflected in the basin was a young, even remarkably handsome face, with the Hohenzollern Family's distinctive deep-set features and dark golden hair. Yet there were faint shadows beneath his eyes, remnants of the original owner's long indulgence in pleasure, while his gaze still carried some of that man's characteristic hostility and... the panic Leon himself could not hide at this moment.

"Leon von Hohenzollern..." he murmured to his reflection in the water, trying to burn that name, that identity, and all the responsibilities and troubles that came with it into his soul. Running was useless. Since he had taken over this body, he had to face it all.

He changed out of his nightclothes and reluctantly picked a relatively understated dark blue velvet outfit from the original owner's enormous wardrobe, which was stuffed with all kinds of flamboyant, extravagant clothes. Once dressed, he took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

Aunt Margaret's residence was less a Count's Mansion than a miniature combination of Magic Tower and library. The corridors were broad and quiet, with towering bookshelves lining both walls. The air carried the tranquil scent of old books, magical potions, and something like sandalwood. There were no busy servants moving about, only the occasional Magic Puppet in standard robes, their movements precise and silent, gliding along fixed routes with cleaning tools or stacks of books in hand. Soft yet inorganic magical light gleamed in their eye sockets, and they showed no reaction to Leon's arrival.

The lack of human warmth made the place feel even more solemn and oppressive. Following his memories, Leon headed toward the dining room. His soft boots made almost no sound against the mirror-smooth dark floor.

The dining room doors stood open. Two people were already seated beside a not particularly large but exquisitely crafted ebony table.

At the head of the table sat his aunt, Countess Margaret von Strauss. She looked no older than her early thirties, though her true age was clearly nothing of the sort. She wore a simple dark purple mage's robe without any unnecessary ornaments, yet she possessed an unquestionable majesty. Her beautiful, stern face seemed carved from ice and snow. Her sharp blue eyes were lowered as she read a "newspaper" made of magical energy, words constantly appearing across its surface. Her mere presence seemed to draw in the surrounding Magic Elements, making the air in the dining room feel several degrees heavier than outside.

Elisa sat below her. She had changed into a moon-white dress styled after a Magic Apprentice Robe, which made her slender figure appear even straighter. Her long dark brown hair was simply tied behind her head, revealing a smooth forehead and a flawless face devoid of expression. She was taking small sips from a cup of black tea, her eyes resting on the grain of the table as though completely immersed in her own world.

Leon's arrival made Elisa lift her eyelids. Her violet eyes swept over him indifferently before dropping again, as if she had merely confirmed the intruder's identity and no longer cared.

Aunt Margaret did not even look up. In a cool voice, clear as jade chimes, she said, "Sit. If your etiquette teacher saw you standing at the door like a wooden post, they would regret ever accepting the Hohenzollern Family's gold."

Leon's throat felt dry. He obediently walked to the seat opposite Elisa and sat down. The chair was a soft, high-backed velvet one, but he felt as though he were sitting on needles.

The moment he sat down, an elegant puppet made of some silvery-white metal and Magic Crystals glided silently to his side. With smooth movements, it filled an exquisite white porcelain cup with steaming black tea. Then a slightly shorter puppet approached carrying a silver tray, upon which rested several appetizing-looking pieces of toasted bread, jam, and a small plate of fresh fruit.

The entire process was quiet and efficient, without a single unnecessary movement or the slightest trace of life.

"Thank you," Leon said softly, almost by instinct.

The atmosphere in the dining room seemed to freeze for a moment after those words left his mouth.

Elisa looked up at him again. For the first time, there was a clear trace of surprise in her eyes, though it vanished quickly. Even Aunt Margaret, who had been reading the magical newspaper, paused almost imperceptibly for half a second as she turned a page.

Leon's heart skipped a beat. Damn it. How could the original owner, that arrogant young scion who treated servants—even Magic Puppets—as if they did not exist, possibly thank an artificial construct?

At last, Aunt Margaret moved her gaze away from the newspaper. Her blue eyes, capable of seeing through a soul, settled on Leon with a hint of scrutiny and... amusement?

"It seems our little Leon had an unusual dream last night?" Her voice remained calm, but Leon heard a faint pressure in it. "You even learned manners."

A layer of cold sweat instantly formed across Leon's back. Forcing himself to remain composed, he squeezed out the original owner's usual unruly grin. "You're joking, Aunt. I was just... well, I just woke up. I'm still a little groggy." He raised his tea, trying to hide his embarrassment with the motion. The rich aroma of black tea, mingled with a faint scent of bergamot, filled his nose and calmed him slightly.

Margaret merely hummed and returned her attention to the magical newspaper. She seemed unconcerned by the explanation—or rather, unconvinced, but too lazy to pursue it. "Groggy enough to nearly forget something as exciting as an Honor Duel?"

Leon's hand trembled around the teacup. Several drops of scalding tea splashed onto the back of his hand, bringing a sharp stab of pain. He forced himself not to cry out.

Elisa quietly picked up a piece of bread spread with strawberry jam and ate it with elegant movements, as though she had not heard their conversation at all. Yet Leon could feel that the edge of her seemingly indifferent gaze remained on him.

"You... know about it, Aunt?" Leon gave a dry laugh, while internally cursing the original owner to hell and back.

"The Imperial Capital may be large, but news travels quickly." Margaret did not raise her head, her tone as casual as if she were discussing the weather. "Especially when the main figures are the Hohenzollern Family's second young master and the son of the Deputy Commander of the City Guard, renowned for his bravery. By now, perhaps half the salons in high society are waiting to see this spectacle."

Leon's heart sank. It seemed impossible to slip away quietly. This was not merely about his own reputation, but the Hohenzollern Family's name. He could imagine how furious his stern, old-fashioned father would be if he fled before the duel and the news reached the Northern Frontier. His "notoriety" in the Imperial Capital would become a complete laughingstock as well.

"I... I'll handle it." Leon could only repeat what he had said that morning, forcing himself through it.

"Handle it?" Margaret finally put down the magical newspaper. Her ice-blue eyes looked directly at Leon, as though they intended to see straight through him. "How do you intend to handle it? With that pathetic battle aura of yours, against an opponent who has trained and fought in the barracks and is likely already close to becoming a High Knight? Or are you counting on those drinking companions of yours to settle things for you?"

Every word lashed Leon's heart like a whip. The original owner truly was only an Intermediate Knight, and even that battle aura was unstable. He lacked combat experience entirely and was nothing more than a decorative fighter built up with resources.

"Or," Margaret said, changing direction as she lifted her own teacup and gently blew on it, "you could ask me. I could write a note to the Deputy Commander, or have some ill-mannered young man suddenly come down with a minor illness."

Her tone was casual, but Leon heard the test beneath it. His aunt clearly wanted to see how he would react to a crisis and what choice he would make. Would he continue relying on family power and protection, or... change?

Leon fell silent. He knew accepting his aunt's help would be the easiest and safest choice. With Countess Margaret's influence in the Imperial Capital, this truly was a trivial matter. But if he did that, then in his aunt's eyes, he would probably forever remain an immature playboy who needed others to clean up after him. And dependence like that could become addictive.

He glanced at Elisa across from him. She was still quietly eating breakfast, as though everything around her had nothing to do with her. Yet Leon had a feeling that she, too, was waiting for his answer.

Just then, the silvery-white Magic Puppet glided over again and precisely refilled Leon's empty cup with black tea. Looking at its inorganic face, a thought suddenly flashed through Leon's mind.

He raised his head and met Aunt Margaret's scrutinizing gaze, trying to make his eyes appear less guilty. "Thank you for your kindness, Aunt. But... this is trouble I caused myself. I want to... solve it myself."

The dining room fell silent again for a brief moment.

Elisa's chewing paused slightly.

The hint of amusement in Aunt Margaret's eyes seemed to deepen. She gently set down her teacup, porcelain clicking crisply against the table.

"Solve it yourself?" she repeated, her tone impossible to read. "Good. The men of the Hohenzollern Family still have some fire in their blood after all. I hope what I see in the duel arena is not a pile of mud."

She did not ask further how Leon planned to "solve it himself," which only placed greater pressure on him. It meant she would stand entirely aside. Success or failure, he would bear the consequences himself.

Breakfast continued beneath a subtle, oppressive atmosphere.

Leon ate the exquisite food before him without tasting it, his mind racing. Facing Andre head-on was definitely a dead end. The original owner's connections seemed limited to drinking companions, with no real allies to speak of. Run? Then his reputation would be ruined...

There had to be a way... There had to be something he had overlooked...

He searched desperately through the original owner's fragmented, chaotic memories. The Deputy Commander of the City Guard's son... His name seemed to be Andre Stewart? He was straightforward, even somewhat rash, and cared deeply about honor... Why had the original owner clashed with him in the first place? Over a singer, perhaps? No, the memory was too blurry...

"Have you organized your notes from Magic Philosophy Class?" Aunt Margaret's voice suddenly broke the silence, but she was addressing Elisa.

Elisa set down her utensils and used a spotless white napkin to wipe the corner of her mouth, every movement meticulous. "I have, Teacher. I still have a few questions about the section on 'Elemental Resonance and Will Interference.' I hope to ask for your guidance this afternoon."

"Mm. Come to my study at three this afternoon." Margaret nodded. Her tone toward Elisa was still calm, but it held less of the sharpness she used with Leon and more of a teacher's authority.

As Leon watched master and disciple naturally discuss profound magical matters, he felt like a complete outsider. This world's system of power and structure of knowledge were utterly unfamiliar to him. Battle aura, magic... Things that had only existed in novels before were now realities he had to confront.

He looked down at his own pampered hands, hands without even a single callus. How was he supposed to fight with these hands? How was he supposed to survive in this world where the strong preyed on the weak?

An unprecedented sense of crisis—and a faint, stubborn unwillingness to fall behind—quietly took root in his heart.

Breakfast finally came to an end.

Aunt Margaret rose first, her mage's robe trailing silently across the floor. "I'm going to the Magic Tower today. Leon, handle your 'trouble' with proper restraint. Elisa, do not forget this afternoon's lesson."

"Yes, Teacher/Aunt," the two replied almost simultaneously.

Margaret disappeared through the dining room doorway.

Only Leon and Elisa remained at the table.

The atmosphere became even more awkward than before.

Leon racked his brains for something to say, only to realize that aside from sleeping with her in his arms at night and a few cold fragments of memory, he knew almost nothing about this "fiancée" of his.

Elisa stood as well, preparing to leave.

"Elisa." Leon could not stop himself from calling after her.

Elisa paused and turned around. Her violet eyes looked at him calmly, waiting for him to continue.

"Um... Andre Stewart." Leon licked his slightly dry lips. "Does he... have any weaknesses? Or anything he cares about especially?"

It was the only possible opening Leon could think of at the moment. Know yourself and know your enemy, and you will never be defeated.

Elisa looked at him for several seconds. A faint trace of mockery seemed to pass through her eyes, as though she were saying, "Isn't it a little late to ask that now?"

But in the end, she still spoke, her voice as cool as ever. "Andre Stewart is a High Knight apprentice with solid strength. He is impulsive and places extreme importance on family honor and personal reputation. His father, Deputy Commander Stewart, is known for strict military discipline and incorruptible service. What he hates most is people using power to bully others or playing schemes behind the scenes."

She paused, then added one final sentence. Her tone was flat, but the words pierced Leon's heart like a needle. "So when you mocked the Stuart Family at the tavern the night before last as 'country bumpkins who only climbed the ranks by guarding the gates for great nobles,' you successfully enraged him."

Leon: "..." His vision went dark. The original owner's mouth had truly managed to block every possible path to survival!

Seeing Leon's face turn deathly pale, Elisa said nothing more. She turned and left the dining room, leaving behind a cool, resolute silhouette.

Leon stood alone in the spacious, quiet dining room. Around him, only the soundless Magic Puppets glided about collecting the dishes. Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting brilliant patches of light across the floor, yet it could not dispel the chill in his heart.

An Honor Duel, impossible to escape, an overwhelming gap in strength, and hatred at its peak... This was practically a death trap.

He slowly walked to the window and looked out over the Count's Mansion's exquisite yet desolate garden, then toward the bustling streets of the Imperial Capital in the distance. This world was so real, and so cruel.

"I have to find a way..." He clenched his fists, nails digging deeply into his palms. The pain kept him clear-headed. "There has to be a way... I'm a transmigrator, after all."

Though that identity had not given him any advantage so far, it might be his only faint source of hope. He needed information, time, and... the key to breaking this deadlock.

And all of it had to begin with leaving this Count's Mansion and once again facing the mess the original owner had created.

His life as the Imperial Capital's Young Scion began, on the first morning after his transmigration, with an imminent duel to the death.