Ethan's gaze snapped toward the door at the sound of the knock. After a brief pause, he called out calmly.
"Come in."
The door opened with a soft creak, revealing a woman dressed in a maid's uniform. She appeared to be in her forties, her movements measured and graceful.
With a quiet step, she entered, gently closing the door behind her before lowering herself into a polite bow.
"Good morning, Young Master," she greeted, her voice calm and measured, yet she deliberately avoided meeting Ethan's eyes.
Ethan studied her quietly for a moment. He recognized her from the memories, the personal maid assigned by the Duke himself.
Her name was Lyra.
Whenever the current head of the Wargrave family welcomed a new heir, it was customary to assign a personal maid or butler to the child.
These attendants served not only as assistants but also as protectors, silent guardians tasked with safeguarding the young master until their awakening.
The true strength of these maids and butlers remained a mystery to outsiders. No child was ever permitted to leave the Duke's estate before awakening, and as a result, none of these attendants had ever been tested in combat. The law was ironclad, unfailing in its enforcement.
Typically, their service would conclude when the young master reached fifteen and successfully awakened. However, since Asher had failed the awakening twice, Lyra's duty extended indefinitely, binding her to serve him until he finally succeeded.
"Good morning, Lyra." Ethan greeted with a neutral tone, offering a slight nod of acknowledgment.
Lyra said nothing in response. She stepped forward, reaching to begin removing his clothes.
Ethan's face immediately tightened into a frown.
"Don't worry. I'll be taking my own baths from now on." he said firmly, halting her mid-motion.
For a few moments, Lyra stared at him, her eyes filled with quiet confusion.
Ethan understood why. She had cared for Asher since his birth, bathing him, dressing him, never missing a single day.
But Ethan wasn't Asher. He couldn't let an elderly woman, nor anyone, for that matter, handle something so personal.
It simply felt wrong and weird.
"As you command, Young Master," Lyra replied softly, stepping back with a respectful bow.
Ethan rose from the bed and made his way to the bathroom, guided by his memories.
'Though this world isn't technologically advanced, I'm glad I can still enjoy a proper bath.' he thought.
After some time, he emerged, feeling refreshed. Lyra was waiting patiently, holding a fresh set of clothes in her hands.
Without a word or a touch, Ethan took the garments and dressed himself, determined to maintain his newfound independence.
"Is my father in the estate?" Ethan asked, glancing at his reflection in the mirror.
"The Primarch is present within the estate, Young Master," Lyra replied promptly.
Ethan gave a slight nod in acknowledgment.
"And which alcohol would you prefer today, Young Master?" Lyra inquired with quiet politeness.
Ethan's thoughts stalled at her question. He knew from Asher's memories that after failing the second awakening, drinking had become a daily ritual, a desperate attempt to numb the growing despair.
'How hadn't this guy's physique deteriorated after all the alcohol he'd consumed?' Ethan wondered, unable to comprehend how Asher's body still appeared stronger and more resilient than his own, even after an entire year of drinking and neglecting any real effort.
'Truly, a family of monsters.' he thought, shaking his head in quiet disbelief.
"My seventeenth birthday is just a few days away, that means my third and final awakening is coming. I'll be making some changes before then. Don't bring me anything like alcohol anymore."
Ethan said calmly, his voice steady.
Lyra's eyes flickered with a sudden intensity as she studied him.
'Has his determination finally returned?' she wondered silently, watching Ethan stand leisurely before the mirror.
She knew all too well the stakes, if he failed this final awakening, banishment would be inevitable. And as someone bound to serve the Young Master until his awakening, that fate would be hers as well.
His failure was shared, but his success would belong to him alone.
"As you command, Young Master. I'll bring breakfast shortly." Lyra bowed respectfully before stepping out of the room.
Ethan's gaze shifted away from the mirror as he turned and sank into a chair. His mind was already racing ahead, planning his next moves.
With only a few days left until his awakening, there was no urgent need to train or prepare physically, he would simply wait for the day to arrive.
He never once doubted that he would pass. Asher may have stumbled twice, but that failure did not extend to him simply because he occupied the same body.
'It seemed Asher took his own life just days before his final awakening. He had already resigned himself to failure before even trying.' Ethan thought quietly.
But he didn't judge Asher. That wasn't his place. Everyone faced reality differently, some fled from it, others embraced it, some prayed for deliverance, and a few simply stared it down, uncaring and unbothered.
Though Ethan felt the weight of Asher's emotions, the despair, the anger, the desire for revenge before his final breath, he had no intention of carrying that burden for a stranger.
He wouldn't waste his time chasing vengeance for someone who couldn't accept his own fate.
The door creaked open as Lyra entered, pushing a cart laden with food toward Ethan. With swift, practiced motions, she arranged the dishes neatly on the table before him.
"Come back in twenty minutes," Ethan said calmly, lifting his cutlery and beginning to eat.
'I should start with the library,' he thought between bites. 'Since no information about this world came with the memories, that's where I'll find answers, right after breakfast.'
His movements were fluid, almost automatic, guided by the refined etiquette of nobility ingrained deep within Asher's body.
'I wonder what cliché twists this world might have,' Ethan mused silently as he ate. 'Will demons invade the land? Or perhaps dungeons will appear everywhere? Maybe there's a towering spire so tall it nearly pierces the heavens, with a hundred floors of deadly trials.'
Time slipped by unnoticed, and before he knew it, the twenty minutes had passed in an instant.