“The city lord himself opening a carriage door—what kind of insane treatment is that?!”
Watching Lawrence pull the carriage door open, the onlookers practically turned green with envy. This was an A-rank professional, for crying out loud. Most folks would brag for years just to catch a passing glimpse of someone that powerful.
And Jack? Jack had an honest-to- god A-rank professional holding a carriage door open for him.
Just yesterday, Jack had been nothing but bottom-tier garbage. Now? He was a D-rank professional, first-place winner of the Wasteland Expedition, an honored guest with a seat at the city lord’s own table.
As the carriage rumbled off into the distance, the crowd finally snapped out of their daze. Jack was gone, sure—but his parents were still right there. Sucking up to them was just as good as currying favor with Jack himself, wasn’t it?
The second that thought clicked, everyone scrambled to find Rick and Alice. Only to discover the pair had already slipped away quietly, leaving zero openings for anyone to butt in.
Inside the carriage, Jack and Lawrence sat across from each other, a small wooden table between them. The silence stretched on, thick and awkward.
“So,” Lawrence finally said, breaking the deadlock, “what’d you make of this Wasteland Expedition?”
Jack cleared his throat. “Not bad. Though I am a little curious about that curse…”
“The curse.” Lawrence pressed a hand to his forehead, sighing in helpless frustration. “That was the Bloodmoon Marquis acting on his own authority. I had no way to stop it. Those marquises answer directly to the Kingdom. I’ve got zero jurisdiction to interfere in their business.”
“Then what was Phaeld’s end goal hunting the Gale Ape?” Jack asked.
“Farming a skill,” Lawrence explained. “Taking down an exceptionally powerful monster like the Gale Ape can grant you a brand new skill. For noble house brats, their profession and level are already locked in early on. This is one of the only ways left for them to grind extra power.”
“What an extravagant way to live.” Jack shook his head, silently marveling at the sheer weight of the Bloodmoon Marquis household
’
s influence.
“Grind hard enough, and maybe you’ll earn a title of your own someday,” Lawrence said, half-joking.
“I will.” Jack made that promise quiet, deep in his own chest. He knew full well Lawrence was just teasing. The Link Kingdom had stood for centuries, and in all that time, only a few hundred people had ever been granted noble titles. Even Lord Lawrence himself—decades of loyal service to the crown, and still no title to his name.
The carriage soon rolled to a smooth stop outside the City Lord’s Manor. Jack stepped out alongside Lawrence, and immediately spotted the banquet hall ahead, blazing with warm, golden light.
“This way.” Lawrence extended a hand, motioning for Jack to follow.
Jack nodded, then glanced down at his own clothes—scuffed, frayed, still caked with faint Wasteland dust—and a flush of embarrassment crept up his neck. He’d rushed over straight from the expedition grounds, still wearing his battered old combat gear.
“Hey, Jack!”
Just then, a woman’s voice rang out. “Need to score some new threads?”
Jack turned. It was Saria.
Gone were her worn leather pants and scuffed jacket. She was wearing a flowing gown of gilded silk, crystal heels catching the light, and delicate jeweled ornaments woven into her hair. She looked noble, elegant, completely unrecognizable from the rugged explorer he’d met in the Wasteland.
“Thanks,” Jack said first. Without Saria bringing Craig to him, things would’ve gotten really messy back at the expedition finish line.
“Don’t mention it. You traded a favor for it, fair and square.” Saria smiled and clapped him on the shoulder, then leaned in close to his ear and chuckled. “Tons of high-society ladies here tonight. You gonna buy yourself a sharp suit, pair it with that dashing face of yours, and go break a few hearts?”
Jack frowned slightly, but still asked, “How much?”
Saria grinned and held up one finger.
“A thousand?”
“A hundred thousand.” Her smile didn ’ t waver.
“Get lost.” Jack shoved her playfully and headed straight for the banquet hall without a backward glance.
A hundred thousand? That was practically daylight robbery. Let those socialite girls think less of him all they wanted. Holding onto a hundred thousand in savings? That was the real win.
He walked into the banquet hall, and sure enough, every eye in the room locked onto him immediately. All those handsome young nobles and beautiful women in glittering gowns and tailored suits stared at him with all kinds of weird expressions. Mockery in some, disdain in others, plain shock and contempt in the rest.
Most ordinary folks, hit with that tidal wave of judgment, would’ve turned tail and run on the spot. Jack? He was completely unbothered. He strolled in like the room was empty, found a quiet corner booth, and sat down like he owned the place.
“That guy?”
Phaeld spotted Jack and jolted in surprise. He’d never expected someone like Jack to get invited to an event this fancy. “Looks like Lawrence is really getting senile, letting trash like that through the door.”
Phaeld sneered inwardly, his eyes thick with scorn. He’d just slain the Gale Ape, unlocked a powerful new skill, and was riding the highest high of his life. Just five minutes ago, three different noble ladies had wandered over to flirt with him. Comparing his current triumph to Jack’s lonely little spot in the corner,
Phaeld’s sense of superiority swelled so much it felt like it might burst.
So what if you claw your way up with brute effort? There are circles you were never meant to step into. And you never will.
“My lord!”
Up on the second floor, Saria approached Lawrence, who was leaning against the railing swirling a glass of wine. Her voice was puzzled. “Why wouldn’t you let me give Jack a proper suit for free?”
Lawrence took a slow sip from his glass, his voice calm and even. “I’m curious to see if he’d rather lose face in front of all these noble brats, or part with a hundred thousand for a useless outfit he’ll never wear again.”
“But the way they’re all staring at him…” Saria gazed down at Jack, a faint trace of sympathy in her eyes.
“Same way they stared at me when I was his age.” Lawrence straightened up, letting out a soft sigh, his voice carrying a faint, distant ache. “Back at my first royal banquet, I spent nearly every coin I had just to buy an entry ticket. End result? Those weird, scornful looks they gave me are burned into my brain. I’ll never forget ’
em
.”
His gaze sharpened with quiet resolve. “Hardship is the best forging fire a person can get. I believe Jack can take it.”
Hearing that, Saria’s expression wavered. She looked at Jack sitting alone in that corner, a hundred conflicting emotions flicking across her face. Hesitation. Uncertainty. Then, slowly, resolve.
“Lord Lawrence,” Saria said finally, “if at that banquet, all those years ago, a lady had walked up and asked you to dance… how would you have felt?”
“Would’ve thought she’d lost her mind,” Lawrence shrugged, half-smiling.
“Then let me be crazy.” Saria lifted the hem of her gown and started down the stairs.
Watching her go, something seemed to hit Lawrence all at once. He sighed and murmured to himself, “Truth is… I think I would’ve been pretty damn happy.”
“Ms. Saria’s coming down!”
The second the tall, striking woman started her slow descent from the second floor, every noble scion in the room whipped their heads around to stare. Saria was a name that had stolen the hearts of half the aristocratic young men in the city, and
Phaeld was no exception. He straightened his tie, preening, and watched her with breathless anticipation, fully hoping she’d stop in front of him and ask for a dance.
But Saria didn’t so much as glance his way. She walked straight past every single one of them, heading directly for the far corner of the banquet hall.
Every gaze tracked her every step, and no one even noticed Jack still sitting in that corner until it was far too late.
Jack watched Saria marching right for him, and alarm bells immediately started blaring in his head. But before he could slip out and make a run for it, she seized his hand, her grin bright and unapologetic.
“Mr. Jack. May I have this dance?”