"…Keep the noise down."
Leaving those words behind, Edward turned and walked back into the villa.
Only then did Arlde remember his new identity as a personal valet. He hurried forward with a notebook in hand, asking, "Mr. Sparrow, do you have any plans for today?"
"…None. I've been in Trier for less than a week. I only just started learning how to play the role of a 'noble,' and honestly, I don't even know what nobles usually do on a daily basis."
He paused, then added, "Oh, aside from hosting and attending banquets, of course."
After all, from what he had observed of Audrey and Glaint, their most common pastime was attending endless social gatherings—banquets, salons, soirées.
"What do you suggest, Arlde?"
Since the Sanginues always styled themselves as aristocrats, even a peculiar suit-obsessive like this one would surely know more than he did.
"Hosting and attending banquets both require a proper social network, which you currently lack," Arlde mused. "My suggestion would be to start by joining clubs—perhaps horse racing or shooting clubs. Their members are all wealthy or noble, and they could serve as the first step in expanding your circle."
Huh?
Compared to his sister, Arlde was unexpectedly reliable.
"Alright then, arrange it for me."
"Ah? But…I don't really know Trier that well myself."—This trip had originally just been for leisure and shopping.
"Then ask Dubois."
"…Yes, sir."
Arlde sighed and went off helplessly.
Half a minute later, Dubois appeared, lowering his voice to ask:
"Mr. Sparrow, where on earth did you find that pair of brother and sister?"
Edward shot him a glance. "They weren't looking for me. They were looking for you."
"???"
"Yesterday at the tailor's shop, and did you 'forcibly' buy a suit?"
"Uh…yes, I…really needed it urgently. Besides, I placed the order more than a week in advance. Old Beck was the one who broke his word!"
Edward shrugged. "I don't care whether that's true or not. The suit you bought was custom-made for that pair of siblings. They were so furious that they came here in the middle of the night intending to kill you. I stopped them."
"What?!"
Dubois's eyes went wide, his heart pounding. No wonder he had suddenly collapsed in exhaustion last night, falling asleep right on the floor until dawn. Even now, his body still ached all over.
So he had almost been killed?!
All that over a suit? Seriously?!
But wait—shouldn't that make them attempted murderers? How had they suddenly turned into a housekeeper and a valet…no, a secretary?
Faced with Dubois's doubts, Edward replied calmly, "Oh, I'm a kind man. I don't like killing indiscriminately. But letting them walk free would have been far too lenient. So, I made them work here to atone."
"Then…why not turn them over to the police?"
"They're Beyonders. Handing them to the police would risk exposing my identity. That would be inconvenient."
"Beyonders…"
Dubois rubbed his forehead, swearing inwardly. I offended so many nobles before, and none of them dared touch me out of respect for the Church. Yet because of a single suit, I nearly died at the hands of Beyonders? Just my rotten luck!
"Mr. Sparrow, they won't…come after me again, will they?"
"Relax. After my 'guidance,' they've already reformed. Besides, from now on they'll be under your command as well. Don't mind Akasha's nonsense—our relationship is nothing more than employer and employees."
You say that, but I don't believe a word of it.
With a beauty like that, a figure like that, flitting around you every day—only a fool would take your words at face value.
"Honoured master, breakfast is ready."
Endili stood respectfully by the dining table.
Compared to yesterday, with a professional chef now in service, breakfast had become a lavish spread, covering half the table.
"Why make so much?"
Before he finished speaking, Akasha bustled over, her face brimming with feigned concern.
"Mr. Sparrow, as the head of the household, you are the pillar for us all. Naturally, we must ensure every meal is nutritious and abundant, so that your body remains healthy and your life long…and prosperous."
Edward chuckled. "Should I be rewarding you for this, then?"
"No, no, as long as you're satisfied, we're happy."
"Next time you spout nonsense, at least control your expression. You look way too fake."
Edward pointed at a bowl of vegetable soup and a meat pie. "I'll have these. The rest, divide among yourselves."
"Ah, thank you for your generosity, Mr. Sparrow~"
Akasha bowed deeply—without a moment's hesitation, clearly expecting this all along. She quickly called Ossaine and Endili to clear away the rest of the breakfast to share with the others.
As for herself, she casually grabbed a meat pie, then joined the group in sharing the food—earning even more grateful and respectful looks from the crowd.
Dubois finally realised what had happened. He clapped his hands in disbelief.
Damn it! That woman just used a single breakfast to so easily buy those people over?
They were the ones I recruited! I even had the chef prepare breakfast for them this morning! And now they've all "defected"?
If this kept up, in this villa…would it be his or that woman's words that carried weight?
Shit, my position as butler is in danger…
The title itself didn't matter much. The real problem was that his one and only hope of becoming a Beyonder rested entirely on Mr. Sparrow!
Edward took a sip of vegetable soup, amused as he watched Dubois and Akasha's little drama.
At that moment, he suddenly understood why the upper echelons always allowed their subordinates to indulge in petty infighting and court intrigues.
In the end, all that scheming and manoeuvring was just for scraps of power slipping through the fingers of those above. And since everything revolved around the one in power, no matter how fierce the fighting below, to the one at the top it was nothing more than a play for entertainment.
Edward, oh Edward…at this rate, you'll be corrupted before you even realise it!
———
Lunchtime.
Seated at the table with her smiling parents, Bernadette clenched her knife and fork tightly, feeling like she didn't belong.
I shouldn't be here. I should be hiding under the table.
Clenching her teeth, she pressed down hard with her knife, cutting into her steak with such force that it scraped out a harsh, grating sound against the plate.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?"
Roselle noticed his daughter's mood and looked at her with gentle concern.
"…Nothing."
Bernadette lowered her head, pouting as she answered against her true feelings.
In truth, her parents' state today seemed much better than before—their relationship even looked noticeably improved.
That made her think of Mr. Sparrow's words: Maybe…maybe I misunderstood Mama.
Maybe Mama hadn't gone on a date with that man. Maybe they had only been discussing serious matters.
But she still couldn't convince herself. Bernadette knew well that her mother had always quietly stayed at home, circling around father and herself, never once engaging with people or things beyond the Roselle household.
The thought made her all the more restless.
After the meal, Roselle took Bernadette to his study, told her a few fairy tales, and only when he saw her smiling did he stroke her head fondly.
"Sweetheart, is there something you'd like to tell father?"
"Daddy."
Bernadette buried her face in Roselle's chest, little fists clenched as she declared with seriousness:
"I'll definitely protect you."
"Hahaha, good. But that will have to wait until you're grown up. Only when father is old will he need your protection."
Roselle, filled with joy, tapped her nose playfully. "For now, let father protect you."
"Go on, time for bed."
Watching his daughter leave the study, the smile on Roselle's face gradually faded. He pulled open a drawer and took out the silver plate.
After a full day of calm reflection, he had come to a decision:
No matter what—it was worth a try!
Perhaps, with this, he could travel between here and his homeland, becoming a "trader" straddling two worlds.
After all, he was the protagonist!
His eyes hardened with resolve. Without hesitation, he poured his spirituality into the silver plate engraved with strange symbols and patterns, activating it.
The originally icy-cold plate grew hot under the surge of spirituality. One by one, the intricate markings lit up, and wisps of pale-grey mist seeped out from the engravings.
In the next instant, boundless gray-white fog swallowed Roselle's vision whole.
It's working!
Am I…going back?
Unable to restrain his excitement, Roselle tried to make out even the faintest familiar image within the depths of the fog.
But alas, he saw nothing.
Minutes passed, and aside from endless fog, there was nothing at all.
When he finally stopped channelling spirituality, the fog vanished. He was still seated at his desk in the study. Nothing had changed.
Though he had half expected this outcome, disappointment still welled up in his heart:
Maybe…my transmigration had nothing to do with the silver plate after all.
Or even if it did, it must've been tied to the "original" plate, not this copy I forged myself.
And yet…the unwillingness gnawed at him.
Clutching the plate tight, Roselle once again channelled his spirituality to activate it.
The endless gray-white fog engulfed his vision once more.
———
That morning, Arlde visited several clubs across Trier and came back with a suggestion: Edward should start with the Racing club.
Many nobles of Trier frequented the racetrack, where they discussed matters while watching horse races.
After all, racing often involved both competition and gambling—two things that easily stirred up excitement among spectators. And in such a charged atmosphere, "friendships" were much more likely to form.
Thus, Edward's daily schedule gained its first fixed item: a weekly visit to the Racing club.
———
[Note]: Don't forget to VOTE. It keeps me motivated.