Chapter 103: A White Suit

Ten days passed after the funeral, and I stayed inside the Valerius residence the whole time.

I did not go looking for trouble in the capital. I did not go hunting old contacts. I stayed home and forced myself to learn how the household actually ran. If this place was mine, then I needed to stop treating it like a building I only returned to when something went wrong.

That was how I found out we owned ten shops in the city market.

Fruits. General wares. Flowers. The ledgers were clean, and the profit lines were steady. Gorran had not only repaired the house with my adventurer stipends. He had expanded the household’s income properly. One of those shops was the same flower stall where I had bought the funeral bundles. I only realized that when I matched the market route numbers to the seller logs. I had stood in one of my own shops, bought ashvein and duskthorn under a hood, and walked out without knowing.

That hit harder than I expected.

Gorran had used the money well.

During those ten days I also put Duke in charge of finding an assistant. He argued at first.

"I am more than capable of handling the work myself, young master."

"I know," I said. "I still want a second person in the house."

"It is unnecessary."

"It is not a request based on your weakness. It is a request based on the fact that I do not want one man covering every corner of this place alone."

Duke finally accepted it, and then he found someone in half a day.

He introduced him in the main hall that same afternoon.

"This is Neet," Duke said. "He will assist with household duties."

Neet was slimmer than Duke, still tall, still composed, with a quieter face and cleaner movements. If Duke looked like force dressed in formalwear, Neet looked like precision given a human body. I ran evaluation on him before the introductions were even finished.

[Target: Neet]

[Position: Household assistant of House Valerius]

[Mana signature: major]

[Estimated combat class equivalent: S-rank range]

Another one.

I stared at both of them and felt the suspicion settle in immediately. One S-rank butler could be explained as Gorran’s practical paranoia. Two S-rank men in the same house, both calling me master, both installed around my daily life, felt less like convenience and more like a setup. I still could not see the full play. Not yet.

For now, they protected the house. That was the part that mattered.

So I let it stand.

By the end of the ten days, I had two incredibly powerful men running around the Valerius residence, managing ledgers, food routes, room order, and security while addressing me like I had always lived this way. It was strange. It was also efficient. I could live with efficient.

Then the day of the ball arrived.

I had planned to hire a stylist. Before I could send either of them out to arrange one, Duke stopped me in the corridor with a folded garment bag over one arm and a look that said he had already decided the matter.

"Allow me to get you dressed, master."

I stared at him.

"What? Can you do that?"

Duke chuckled.

"You underestimate me."

Apparently I did.

I followed him into the preparation room and watched him work with the same controlled certainty he used for everything else. He did not fumble with collars. He did not guess at layering. He handled formalwear like a man who had been trained for presentation as seriously as combat. When he finally opened the garment bag fully, I actually went still.

The suit was white, clean, and elaborate without becoming ridiculous. The embroidery ran in controlled floral patterns along the lapel and cuffs, shiny under the light without looking cheap. It fit the body line properly. It looked expensive in the way that made people recalculate who they were speaking to.

Then Neet brought the mask.

He had already crafted it. White base, fine edgework, elegant enough to belong to the suit instead of competing with it. When he held it up, I felt my brain briefly stop producing useful language.

"What the fuck?" I said, and only after did I realize it had come out from pure joy. "I could kiss you two right now."

I meant it casually.

They did not take it casually.

I felt both of them stiffen at the same time. The shift was small, but it was there. Then the System, helpful as ever, decided to announce the internal damage I had just caused.

[Detected rise in sexual response signatures from both present targets.]

[Emotional state: flustered desire under restraint.]

They blushed with no pleasure on their faces at all, just heat and composure fighting each other. I ignored it. There was no point pretending I did not understand the reaction. People were attracted to me. That had become a recurring fact of this body and this life. Sexuality was fluid. Attraction happened. I was not going to turn a ball preparation into a crisis because two dangerous men in formal service clothes got flustered by a careless sentence.

"Clothes first" i said

Duke recovered faster than Neet and began dressing me with precise hands. Shirt, vest, coat, fastening, adjustment. Neet handled the accessories and set the mask against my face until the fit sat clean. When they finally let me turn to the full-length mirror, I barely recognized the version of myself looking back. Not because the face was new. Because the presentation was intentional. I looked prepared for a royal floor instead of a road fight.

"Good work," I said.

Duke bowed slightly.

"Of course, master."

Neet’s voice was quieter.

"The carriage is ready."

That made me pause.

"What carriage?"

I did not remember buying one.

Apparently the household did. Another Gorran arrangement, or one of the two S-rank men using household funds with too much competence. By the time I stepped outside, a fine carriage was already waiting at the front path, clean and dark and properly fitted for formal arrival. It looked expensive enough to keep people from asking stupid questions at the gate.

Then came the fight over who would go with me.

I only needed one rider and one plus one. That simple fact nearly caused a territorial incident in my front courtyard. Duke and Neet both stepped forward at the same time.

"I will accompany master," Duke said.

"I am better suited for carriage duty," Neet replied.

"You have been in this house for days."

"And in those days I have already memorized the capital routes."

"I can break a man’s arm without wrinkling my jacket."

"I can prevent the need for that."

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

"If either of you says one more sentence like a recruitment poster, I am walking."

They settled it with an arm wrestle.

I wish I was joking.

The two of them planted their elbows on the courtyard side table like this was a tavern instead of a noble household and pressed strength against strength in total silence. Neet was slimmer, but the evaluation had not lied. The contest lasted longer than it should have. Duke’s arm looked like it should have ended the matter immediately. It did not. When Neet finally forced the win by a hard inch, Duke’s mouth tightened and Neet only bowed as if he had confirmed a schedule.

"I will ride," Neet said.

Duke looked at me.

"Master."

"He won," I said. "Live with it."

Duke accepted the result with visible pain and perfect manners. Neet opened the carriage door, waited for me to enter, then took position as both rider and plus one. The absurdity of having two S-rank men arm wrestle over ball escort duty stayed with me all the way down the front path.

The carriage moved into the capital traffic and joined the line of formal vehicles heading toward the royal grounds. I sat against the seat, mask in place, white suit sharp, and watched the city pass through the window in fragments. Ten days ago I had buried Gorran and marked Dexter. Tonight I was heading into a masquerade under a mandatory system event with a household assistant who could probably kill half a gate unit by himself.

The carriage eventually slowed.

Through the window, the castle entrance came into view under event lighting and heavy formal security. Other carriages lined the approach. Masked guests moved toward the main ascent in pairs and small groups. The closer we got, the clearer it became that this was not a small commemorative gathering. It was a full royal stage.

Neet brought us to a stop at the arrival line, dismounted, and opened the door.

"We have arrived, master."

I stepped down onto the castle approach in white embroidery and a fitted mask, looked up toward the entrance, and felt the next route lock into place under my feet.

The ball was no longer ten days away.

I was here.