Logan woke with a groan, his body aching in ways he didn't understand. Disoriented, he blinked slowly, unsure of where he was.
"Young Master Logan, are you awake?" came a soft voice—barely more than a whisper.
He felt someone tug gently on his arm before his vision adjusted enough to see. A girl in a maid's attire hovered over him, her light brown hair catching the dim glow of the room. It took him a moment, but he recognized her—Ruri.
"Yes... I think I am?" he answered hoarsely, his voice rough and dry as he looked around the unfamiliar space. Fragments of memory floated through his mind: the class reveal, the king's speech, music, food… the balcony, the drink… the red-haired girl. The drink!
"It was the drink, wasn't it?" he blurted, sitting up too quickly.
Pain shot through his skull, and he winced, clutching his temples as his headache spiked. He fell back against the bed, groaning again.
"Master? Are you alright?" Ruri's voice rose with concern.
Realizing his outburst was drawing attention, Logan tried to compose himself. He cleared his throat, forcing calm into his voice.
"Yeah… sorry about that. I'm fine. Just… a bit of a headache. Also… how did I get here?"
Ruri nodded solemnly, her hazel eyes full of understanding. "Let me give you this first. Lady Rosengard said it would help when you woke."
She poured tea from a delicate porcelain pot into a matching cup, the steam curling upward as she carefully handed it to him.
"You see, Hero, last night Lady Rosengard said you accidentally drank a cup of Ghostbrew and had to be brought back by a caretaker. I stayed with you through the night to take care of you, so don't worry—you didn't say or do anything weird, I promise," Ruri said in a meek voice, though her tone carried a quiet seriousness to show she was telling the truth.
Logan stared at her for a moment before nodding slowly. The tea he had downed in three sips seemed to be fast-acting; the heavy pulsing in his forehead was already beginning to fade.
"Ugh, thank you. That'll be all."
Ruri nodded, satisfied that the tea had helped, and quietly left the room with the cup and pot in hand.
As soon as the door closed, Logan slapped his thigh in frustration. Having a stranger take care of him was already uncomfortable, but making a fool of himself in front of that red-haired girl?
That was worse.
He recalled bits and pieces of the night before. What stuck out most was the talking—a lot of it. He also remembered being carried off by the redhead, just before everything went dark.
The thought made him shudder in embarrassment.
What were the others going to say? What would Ms. Claire think?
Those questions swirled in his mind, tightening into a knot of anxiety. But eventually, hunger and another pressing need snapped him out of his spiral.
He needed to get up.
After changing into the clothes neatly laid out at the foot of the bed, Logan found himself hesitating at the door. His hand hovered over the knob, tightening and loosening a few times before he finally rotated it and pushed the door open.
He took a deep breath and stepped out.
To his relief, the corridor was empty.
Sometime later, after finishing his business, Logan realized none of his classmates had woken up yet. The sunlight hadn't reached the windows, so he guessed it was around six in the morning. The kitchen staff hadn't even started cooking.
That didn't stop his maid, however, who had quietly prepared a simple soup and urged him to eat.
Noticing the young girl stifling yawns, clearly exhausted from staying up all night, Logan insisted she rest and sent her away before sitting down to eat after thanking her various times.
It all felt strange.
He wasn't used to having anyone around, let alone someone who would go so far as to stay up through the night just to care for him.
He quietly finished his broth with a slice of bread, then made his way upstairs to avoid the others, who would no doubt begin gathering soon. He needed time to think—to figure out what to do next.
But just as he reached his room, a sharp whistle rang out behind him.
"Hey Logan, have you become a man already?" someone called out—a voice he didn't recognize well.
Logan stiffened. Without turning around, he quickly shut his door, making sure it didn't slam and risk waking Ruri if she was asleep.
He paced in silence, the comment gnawing at his thoughts.
They saw something. Or thought they did. He didn't know what happened after the drink. He had no memory of how he got back, or what exactly occurred with the red-haired girl—or even with Ruri. Was Ruri being kinder this morning because something had happened?
"No… wait. She said nothing happened," he muttered, tugging at his hair. "Damn it, I'm never drinking again!"
He sighed and turned toward his bed, only to notice an envelope resting neatly beside the pillow.
Logan picked it up and unfolded the note inside:
"Greetings Hero,
I hope the medication I gave your maid helps with the problems you'll be having tomorrow. Don't worry about what happened at the party; I did my best to keep your dignity intact with a special trick of mine.
Now then, I hope you remember our promise and consider accepting the help of my father, Earl Victor Rosengard. We will be sending a carriage at midday in case you accept. All you have to do is hand the envelope containing this letter to Mr. Alric—he knows what to do.
And don't worry about payment; it's an arrangement all nobles have agreed upon. Mr. Alric will do the same for any other student who receives such an offer.
Sincerely Yours,
Rubina Rosengard"
Logan rubbed his forehead, trying to piece together the events of the previous night. He vaguely recalled accepting the Rosengards' offer and introducing himself to Rubina, just before everything went dark.
He weighed the pros and cons a few times.
In truth, having a backer seemed like a smart move. Everyone else in the class would likely end up with one, and he had no desire to rely too heavily on the king, who could, at any moment, toss him aside.
There were risks, of course. Accepting help from an unknown noble family could easily backfire. But when he thought of Rubina again—the way she had spoken to him—Logan couldn't bring himself to suspect her motives.
She had seemed genuine, not manipulative.
He didn't think her interest came from his appearance. More likely, it was related to what the Oracle had said about his powers.
Specifically, the way others had reacted when his class had been revealed.
"Tamer…" he murmured.
The word lingered on his tongue. He could only guess it referred to bonding with monsters or creatures and helping them grow stronger, just like in his old video games.
Pacing for a moment more, Logan finally made up his mind.
He would deliver the letter.
Feeling a bit more certain—especially after recalling Ruri's calm demeanor earlier that morning—he quietly exited his room and made his way down to the reception hall.
There, behind the polished counter, stood Mr. Alric, the main butler.
"Ah… Good morning. Could you pass this to Earl Rosengard, please?" Logan asked, trying to sound calm.
Mr. Alric's sharp, unreadable gaze fixed on him, making Logan fidget slightly.
Still, the butler nodded as he took the envelope, then snapped his fingers.
A nearby servant boy quickly stepped forward, accepted the letter, received a quiet string of instructions, and then ran off at full speed.
"Will that be all, young master?" the older man asked, his voice devoid of emotion.
Logan gave a quick nod.
Mr. Alric bowed with perfect precision before returning to his duties.
Logan felt somewhat refreshed by the previous interaction. It had been quick, smooth, and simple.
But as he made his way back to his room, he began to notice the stares—several classmates were eyeing him with varying degrees of curiosity.
He scanned the crowd quickly.
No sign of Lisa, his teacher, or the three stooges.
That was good enough.
Though the attention made him uneasy, he pushed through it and managed to return to his room without incident.
The hours passed slowly. Logan spent the time doing nothing in particular—just reading an old book he'd found tucked away in the upstairs library, using it as an excuse to hide from the rest of the world.
Eventually, he noticed movement. His maid, Ruri, had woken up.
Somehow, she had known he would want to go out.
Without a word, she brought him the clothes he had arrived in—his old world attire, clean and folded. To his quiet delight, she had even included his beanie. He wasted no time slipping it on, adjusting it into place with practiced ease.
Logan studied her for a moment before speaking. "Thank you, Ruri…"
The young maid bowed, her expression lighting up with a warm smile. For some reason, she looked overjoyed just to be of service. Logan found it a little strange—how genuinely happy she seemed to have a master.
Still, he didn't question it.
He simply accepted her kindness in silence, unsure of how to respond beyond that.
Then came a knock at the door.
A butler's voice rang out clearly, polite and formal: "Young Master Logan, the Rosengard carriage is ready and waiting outside."