In front of the courtyard.
Sunlight spilled across Allen's face. He raised an eyebrow slightly, looking a little dazed.
Just above his nose, dust motes—visible only to him—drifted like a gauzy veil.
But inside, Allen's mind was racing.
As expected—manually "farming" favorability with the old man nets me some points.
Allen had long since understood how the favorability system worked. Influencing characters from the original story could trigger different values: respect, recognition, appreciation, friendship, family ties, even "brotherly love" with bonus fragrance. It wasn't just—
—romantic affection between men and women, like he'd naively assumed back then.
Two assessments, both with short time limits. Two aspirations, longer time limits.
Judging from past experience, the system always sets tasks based on real-world context. That means "assessments" are immediate—likely to happen soon. "Aspirations" come later—probably after we return to the Capital.
One of the assessments is already complete, and it even marked it as [Completed Early]? Is that because my performance aligned with his XP preferences? He liked it enough to pre-approve my abilities?
Seems about right. If one assessment was about "capability," then the next one…
Is probably "strength."
Allen recalled the feeling just moments ago when the carriage passed by—that fleeting glance from inside. He grinned.
If I'm right, this evaluation will most likely be carried out by Ghislaine, won't it? Those feline eyes—only a brief flash, but I saw them clearly. Gotta admit, the Boreas family's fetishes do have their uses in unexpected situations.
But why hasn't Ghislaine come out yet? Is she the type to stay hidden?
[Who knows?]
Allen pulled himself out of his thoughts—but Paul still hadn't responded. Glancing forward, he saw Philip's ever-smiling, squinty-eyed expression, and turned with confusion to look at Paul.
The Miracle Walker was still off farming mobs.
No—Paul was still stunned.
He'd been like this ever since Philip's sudden arrival.
The letter on the upstairs table had only arrived in Buena Village yesterday. He'd read it and spent all morning trying to think of a reasonable way to smooth things over before writing back.
Something along the lines of: "This young man Allen has absolutely no connection to your son; he's merely a good friend I often spar with."
But before he could even pick up the pen—
His "good friend's" dad had shown up in person.
Huh?!
The moment Paul saw Philip, his whole body locked up.
Beyond just worrying about Allen, he even felt a ridiculous, familiar panic—like back in noble school, when a girl's furious father cornered him.
That's gotta be a hallucination.
Now watching Allen calmly resolve the situation with barely a few words, Paul couldn't help but be reminded of a former party member from his Fangs of the Black Wolf days—the rogue, Geese Nukadia.
That guy had a knack for social maneuvering, and Allen resembled him a lot in that regard.
Paul gave his head a sharp shake, trying to dislodge these absurd, illogical thoughts, and turned to face Philip's squinting, ever-smiling face.
Philip.
His distant cousin had never let go of his hunger for power. Even back then, when he offered Paul help, there had been conditions behind the gesture—after all, Paul was the eldest son of the Notos branch, a legitimate heir by law. Running away wasn't necessarily permanent; there had been room to negotiate.
But when it became clear Paul had genuinely chosen to settle down in this remote village, Philip had finally given up, disappointed, and stopped probing about his political stance.
He'd clearly written Paul off as a lost cause.
Even so, Paul had never said a single bad word about Philip in front of Allen.
Because he genuinely hoped Allen could experience real familial warmth. He didn't want the boy to repeat the rift he'd had with his father—to end up with regrets he couldn't fix.
But now…
Paul glanced at Allen, who was looking back at him with a composed smile.
Allen's fast on the uptake… staying calm too.
He instantly saw that pretending not to recognize Philip was the best move—for himself, for Philip. Philip's already figured out Allen's identity. No… knowing him,
He probably already knew before he sent the letter.
Next to Paul, Philip was still smiling patiently, waiting for an answer. Staring into those squinty eyes, Paul questioned himself:
Does Allen want to go to Roa?
Didn't I bring it up two years ago, and he shot it down immediately?
Living right under his father's nose? Does he even like Philip?
No, he doesn't. What he likes is this home, this family.
If that's the case…
Then I'll turn him down on his behalf.
Fortunately, there's no need to keep Allen's identity hidden anymore. Everyone here already knows—even if unspoken. So the only thing left is to decline Philip decisively and cleanly.
From Allen's perspective, Paul had been frozen for way too long—but that was only because swordsmen processed their thoughts much faster than normal folks.
To Philip, it was just a brief lapse into silence.
"Ah, well, I haven't discussed it with them yet—I didn't expect you to arrive so soon," Paul said with an awkward chuckle. He put on a serious face, choosing his words carefully.
"I've thought about your letter, but I don't feel right making the decision for Allen or Rudeus. They've both got their own ideas… Don't you think this is a little premature? I mean, they're still kids—talking about recruitment and all that…"
But he wasn't great with sudden changes, and it showed. His words came out halting and uncertain.
At that moment—
Rudeus let out a subtle breath of relief, curiously eyeing Philip.
Sylphy's expression only slightly eased; her face was still pale as she stared at Paul's open mouth, fingers twisting the hem of her cherished skirt.
Allen, too, was watching Paul—his lips curved faintly.
So this is what they mean by "those who care get flustered." When something unexpected hits, people instinctively protect what matters most to them.
The word "unexpected" rippled through Allen's thoughts. Out the corner of his eye, Philip's smile never faltered.
His lips parted slightly, as if to say something.
That glance from earlier—by the irrigation canal—flashed again through Allen's mind.
His smile froze.
The smoky interface of the system panel still floated before his eyes.
One line of text hovered in the air:
[You did not wait for the original assessment Philip had prepared.]
Wait a sec… no way…
He jerked his head toward the second carriage's door. Inside, he could hear the distinct sounds of fabric rustling and a body struggling.
And then—!
BANG!
The carriage door was kicked open with a crash!
Waves of vivid crimson spilled into the air.
Hair as bright as scarlet paint whipped through the sky in thick waves.
Hotter than fire.
"I told you not to cover my mouth!!"
"Miss! We're in public—please mind your manners! We agreed, didn't we? If the master didn't speak first, you wouldn't come out!"
"Hmph!"
The fiery-browed girl leapt down from the carriage, snapping at the cat-eared maid behind her with obvious impatience. Arms crossed, legs braced wide, she faced the stunned crowd in the courtyard like a lion cub declaring dominion.
"Who's Allen?!"