Ian had been in a foul mood ever since receiving the invitation.
Of all people, the one he least wanted to interact with had personally invited him to their birthday banquet.
‘Now I can’t even refuse.’
Ian scratched his head vigorously.
Unless he suddenly fell gravely ill or an invasion occurred—some unavoidable circumstance—refusing was impossible.
This wasn’t an invitation sent to the vassal family’s lord; it was addressed directly to ‘Ian von Schrantz’ in the sender’s own handwriting.
If a vassal family’s heir were to decline, it would be seen as a direct offend to the ruling family.
Of course, even if Ian had no such intention, it wouldn’t matter if the other party perceived it that way.
‘And if Duke Endran comes to Schrantz demanding a duel, that’d be the end of my life.’
Duke Endran was absolutely the type to do something like that.
The slightest blemish to his family’s prestige, and he’d act without hesitation.
Yet, despite that, a question lingered in Ian’s mind.
‘I’m not personally close to either Duke Endran or Viola, so why did I get invited to this birthday banquet?’
It was puzzling.
Had the invitation been sent routinely, like those to other vassal families, Ian wouldn’t have given it a second thought.
It happened every year, after all.
But this time, he’d received an invitation that specifically named him.
‘From what I know, personal invitations only happen when you’ve built up significant favourability, right?’
He’d never engaged with the imperial storyline, and his only interaction with the Endran ducal family had been that one meeting with Viola.
There’d been no time to build connection, nor any opportunity to do so.
By all logic, the personal invitation made no sense.
‘Since this world has become reality, maybe it doesn’t work exactly like the game?’
He racked his brain considering every possibility, but—
‘No idea.’
There was no way for Ian to know the reason.
He gave up trying to figure it out.
‘Maybe they invited me personally because of my contributions to the family’s standing.’
Naturally, even though Ian was perfectly content with his current life, maintaining good relations with the Endran family was important.
Like it or not, the Schrantz family was economically tied to the Endran duchy and under its influence.
Besides, the Endran family was set to become imperial in-laws—there was no downside to being on good terms.
‘Alright, let’s see. Even if I’d rather keep my distance, they went out of their way to invite me to the banquet. Showing up empty-handed would be rude. But what does Viola even like?’
The problem was, Ian had no idea what the birthday girl’s preferences were.
‘I know Duke Endran is a huge wine enthusiast, but Viola? No clue.’
Like it or not, Duke Endran was someone Ian was inevitably entangled with.
He’d naturally picked up on the Duke’s tastes, but nothing came to mind for Viola.
Perhaps due to the trauma of dealing with her in his first playthrough, he’d never made an effort to get close to her.
‘Ah, whatever. She’s a mage, so something useful for magic should work.’
Deciding to gift her something rare and unexpected, Ian called for Nea.
“You called?”
“Fetch Sera for me. And tell the trade manager to bring out all the wood traded from the elves and have it ready in front of the warehouse. I need to check something.”
“All of it?”
“Yeah. All of it.”
Though she didn’t understand why he needed the elven wood, Nea simply obeyed.
On the day of Viola’s birthday, the front of the Endran ducal estate was packed with nobles, and the line of carriages stretched so far that traffic came to a standstill.
But Ian didn’t have to wait like the others.
The soldiers, spotting the Schrantz crest on his carriage, directed him to a separate entrance, allowing him to bypass the queue entirely.
A privilege granted because the host of the banquet had invited him personally.
‘Nice.’
Leaning against the terrace railing, Ian smirked as he watched the endless line of carriages below.
Had he not received a personal invitation, he’d have been stuck somewhere in that mess—the mere thought made his head spin.
Turning away, he surveyed the banquet hall.
Though the event hadn’t officially begun, the place was already bustling.
Hugo was surrounded by a swarm of nobles, deep in conversation.
“Back then, Ian and Hubert—!”
‘Still at it, huh?’
When he’d first arrived, Ian had briefly tried to slip away, but as expected, it was futile.
The moment nobles realized someone from Schrantz was present, they flocked like clouds, and Hugo, ever the proud father, launched into exaggerated tales of his sons’ exploits during the Schrantz raid.
‘He’s seriously addicted to this.’
For the record, Hubert hadn’t attended the banquet.
With the monster subjugation campaign already scheduled, he couldn’t spare the time.
The campaign was crucial for Schrantz—it helped regulate monster populations and delayed the large-scale uprisings that occurred every thirty years.
‘I’ll head in once the banquet officially starts.’
Given how things looked, Hugo would likely keep this up until then.
‘Tch. It’s boring with no one around.’
Normally, he’d have called Nea over to chat and pass the time, but unfortunately, she wasn’t allowed in the banquet hall.
Though she’d accompanied him to the Endran estate, only invited nobles and the estate’s serving staff were permitted inside.
So she was probably waiting quietly in the attendants’ lounge with the servants of other noble families.
‘If I go in now, I’ll just get swarmed by other nobles’ sons and daughters.’
And some would undoubtedly try to push their daughters onto him.
In the game, he could’ve just ignored them and stood still, but now that this was reality, that wasn’t an option.
Every word and action would affect his relationships.
‘Better to just stay low-key.’
So Ian’s plan was simple: do nothing, stay out of sight, and leave as soon as possible.
Just as he was wishing for the banquet to start already—
“Um…”
A young boy’s voice called out to him. Ian turned.
“Eek!”
The moment the boy saw Ian’s face, his expression twisted in discomfort, and he took a step back.
A Boy Barely in His Early Teens
The boy, named Daylan Erce, let out a deep sigh.
‘The nobles look down on me and my family.’
He had tried his best to befriend them, but it wasn’t easy.
Whenever he revealed his identity, the reactions were always the same.
A family that started a territorial war, allied with multiple houses, yet suffered a crushing defeat at the hands of a minor territory, losing most of their land.
That was how every noble under Duke Endran’s influence viewed the Erce County.
They openly mocked them, sneering at how the Schrantz family’s “mercy” had saved such a disgraceful house.
By now, the Erce name was synonymous with villainy even in the northern regions.
He had seen families who once associated with them now deliberately avoiding conversation.
Their sudden change in attitude disgusted him.
But he couldn’t give up.
‘Restoring our family’s former prestige might be impossible, but changing their perception is necessary.’
To do that, he needed to interact with as many nobles as possible.
Scanning the crowd for someone who might engage with him, his eyes landed on a black-haired man standing alone on the terrace.
Approaching cautiously, he called out:
“Excuse me…”
When the man turned around, Daylan froze.
No—more accurately, it was the man’s crimson eyes that startled him.
He realized exactly who he had just spoken to.
Instinctively, Daylan took a step back.
‘This kid…?’
Ian stared at the boy for a long moment.
He looked familiar, but Ian couldn’t quite place him—until it finally clicked.
‘Ah. The heir of House Erce. No, wait… the current Count Erce.’
The very same boy whose father, the previous Count Erce, had met an unfortunate end—dying at the hands of “bandits” while returning from exile.
The reason Ian hadn’t recognized him immediately was that he had only seen Daylan as a grown man in his past playthroughs.
‘So he was invited too? Judging by his reaction, he already knows who I am.’
While Ian recognized him from multiple playthroughs, how did Daylan know him?
‘Well, it’s not that hard to figure out.’
Black hair and crimson eyes were distinctive traits of the Schrantz family.
“Count Erce, I presume?”
At Ian’s acknowledgment, the boy’s expression soured further.
Still in his growth spurt, Daylan barely reached Ian’s chest, yet he glared up with sharp defiance.
“Yes. I am Count Erce.”
“It’s an honor to meet you.”
Ian found the situation amusing.
From Daylan’s perspective, he was facing the man responsible for his family’s downfall.
“How have you been?”
“Terrible.”
“Regarding the late Count Erce’s—”
“If you’re about to offer condolences, don’t. I have no interest in hearing them from you.”
Ian blinked.
He hadn’t expected such open hostility.
‘Wow. No hesitation at all.’
He had anticipated some resentment, but this was far more intense than he’d imagined.
Then again, from Daylan’s perspective, the Schrantz brothers were his sworn enemies.
Still, Ian couldn’t help but feel irritated.
‘He just cut me off mid-sentence.’
That alone was insulting.
But Ian decided to let it slide—just this once.
The boy was young, and the wounds from the territorial war were still fresh.
“Have I done something to offend you?”
“Not particularly. I’m just in a foul mood today.”
“Might I ask why?”
“Are you really that oblivious?”
Daylan’s tone was mixed with disdain, as if the answer should’ve been obvious.
‘Definitely still a child.’
It was hard to reconcile this bad temper boy with the man who would later—
‘If Schrantz had lost that war, he would’ve desecrated my father’s grave, ground his bones to dust, and scattered them over some nameless hill.’
And how did Ian know this?
Because in one of his playthroughs as a merchant, he’d maxed out his affinity with Daylan—only for the man to boast about it proudly.
Yet now, he was just an ordinary teenager, barely past puberty.
“I have no desire to speak with you. Not now, not ever.”
Ian’s eyebrow twitched.
‘This isn’t bravery—it’s pure idiocy.’
He had been willing to tolerate the boy’s attitude, but this was pushing it.
‘Old habits die hard. Maybe he needs a lesson.’
He pondered how best to remind the boy of his place—
When suddenly, another voice interrupted.
“My Lord! There you are!”
A man stepped onto the terrace, and Daylan’s scowl deepened even further.
The newcomer was balding, with half his hair already gone.
“I said I wanted to be alone.”
“That’s not possible. This isn’t our territory. I warned you not to wander off unattended. It’s for your own safety, my Lord. Please don’t be upset.”
From his demeanor, he appeared to be an advisor.
When the man noticed Ian, he startled, then bowed deeply.
“Ah! You’re with the young master of Schrantz! What an honor to meet you.”
For a split second, Ian thought he saw the man smirk—but perhaps it was just his imagination.
“And you are?”
“Ah, forgive my rudeness! I am Boris Marten, advisor to the Count of Erce. His Lordship is still inexperienced, so I accompany him on such occasions.”
“I see. I’m Ian von Schrantz. A pleasure.”
That smirk earlier definitely hadn’t been his imagination.
And Ian’s polite response wasn’t out of courtesy—
No, it was genuine.
Or rather, it was the man’s position that had piqued his interest.
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