I left the Imperial Council Hall with the same silence I had entered it with, but something within me had shifted. It wasn't the meeting itself—with its dull political details and blatant diplomatic hypocrisy—that caused the change, but rather the growing awareness of my situation.
I am here, in this body, in this world, and I possess resources beyond imagination. And resources, in any world, mean power—or at the very least, comfort. And in my case, comfort meant good food. A lot of it.
The personal attendant, who had been waiting like a silent shadow at the door, gave a slight bow and led me back through the gilded, velvet-lined corridors of the imperial palace.
Each step on the thick red carpet only strengthened my resolve. The sound-absorbing rug, the walls echoing with a history of blood and betrayal, the stone-faced guards—all of it screamed luxury and oppression.
But my mind was elsewhere—on a long list of foods I had been deprived of for years in my previous life. Foods that the original Nir, with his faux asceticism, would never have thought to indulge in.
The silver carriage awaited. Same silent servant. Same velvet seats. But this time, my thoughts weren't tangled in analyzing the absurdity of the novel or thinking about Alastair. I was planning my first real feast in this new life.
"Young Master," the servant suddenly said, breaking the long silence of the ride, "Are there any special instructions upon arrival at the estate?"
I looked at him, a barely visible smile playing on my lips—one heavy with anticipation.
"Yes," I said in a calm voice, one laced with unmistakable authority. "Instruct the head chef to await me in my quarters the moment we arrive. He is to have a list prepared—of the rarest, most exquisite meats, birds, fish, fruits, and vegetables this world can offer. And don't forget the drinks. I want only the best. Nothing less."
The servant's eyes widened for a fleeting moment before he composed himself and bowed.
"As you command, Young Master."
Perhaps he thought I had lost my mind. Or more likely, he had wisely decided not to question my motives. Servants in House Verton quickly learned that questions could cost more than just their employment.
As the carriage passed through the towering gates of Verton Manor—like the gaping jaws of a stone beast—I felt the air itself change.
Here, the shadows were deeper, the silence heavier, and every stone pulsed with an ancient, terrifying power. Yet today, that atmosphere stirred no unease in me. On the contrary, it felt like the perfect setting to satisfy my desires.
I stepped down from the carriage, ignoring the servants lined up in exaggerated bows. My steps were brisk, directed straight toward my personal wing. As I had ordered, the head chef, Monsieur Julien, was waiting outside my door.
He was a short, round man—French, or whatever passed for French in this world—with meticulously curled mustaches and a towering white chef's hat that seemed to defy gravity. His pristine white coat and the look on his face—an awkward mix of confusion and cautious curiosity—made him almost comical.
"Young Master Nir," he said in his lightly accented voice, "I am at your service."
I gestured for him to enter. My suite was spacious, but his nervous energy seemed to fill much of it.
"Monsieur Julien," I began, pacing slowly through the room and examining the heavy furniture and rare artifacts as if seeing them for the first time. "I want a feast. Not just any feast. I want to experience everything rare and luxurious this world has to offer. I don't care about cost. I don't care about effort. I want the best."
The chef swallowed hard, but a flicker of excitement lit up in his eyes. True chefs lived for challenges. They lived for the rarest of ingredients.
"Of course, Young Master. Do you have any particular dishes in mind?"
"Let's start with meat," I said, pausing in front of a large window overlooking the black gardens of the manor.
"I want a cut of young red dragon meat. Not those pathetic slices from adolescent drakes you serve at banquets. I want a slab of rib from a dragon no older than fifty. Tender. Juicy. Slow-roasted over ancient oak wood, seasoned only with black rock salt and wild pepper from the Serpent Mountains."
Monsieur Julien wiped a phantom bead of sweat from his brow.
"Red dragon meat… That's incredibly rare, Young Master. It requires a special hunting permit from the Duke—"
"Consider the permit granted," I interrupted coldly. "My father won't deny a simple wish from his only son." (A lie, of course. I had no idea if he'd approve. But the confidence in my voice made it sound true enough.)
"Next, I want griffin liver. Rumor has it it melts in the mouth like celestial butter. Lightly pan-seared with black truffle and served with a sauce made from icewine from the northern lands."
Monsieur Julien's eyes widened.
"Griffin liver! My goodness! We haven't prepared that in years! It requires exquisite skill—one wrong move and it's ruined!"
"I have faith in you, Monsieur Julien," I said with a faint smile.
"And then, I want roasted phoenix chick. The kind raised on the Sunny Isles. Stuffed with aromatic herbs and dried fruits, glazed in moonflower honey during roasting."
"Phoenix chick… Yes, yes, that can be arranged. It's incredibly delicious." Excitement began to replace hesitation in the chef's tone.
"For seafood, I want ghost-sea lobster. The kind that grows as large as a grown man's arm. Boiled in a special broth with black lemon and rare sea herbs. And golden mermaid caviar, served over crushed ice with thin slices of pearl-flour toast."
"Golden mermaid caviar!" he gasped. "That costs a fortune! A single vial takes weeks to obtain!"
"We have fortune. And time is no concern. Begin preparations immediately," I said, turning to face him.
"As for fruits, I want a basket of Eternal Apples that never rot, bunches of Starlight Grapes that glow in the dark, and slices of Shifting-Sand Melon—said to change flavor with every bite. For vegetables, I want hearts of Sunburst Artichoke, roots of Snow Yarrow, and leaves of Crystal Fern."
The chef scribbled frantically in a small notebook, his pen practically flying across the pages.
"And drinks, Monsieur Julien. Don't forget the drinks. I want ancient Dragon's Blood wine, aged for a century in barrels made of old dragon bone. I want pure Elixir of Life—not the diluted version served to common guests, but the concentrated one that restores youth and strengthens the body. And bring me Moonspring Water—gathered only during full moons from hidden springs in the Cloud Mountains."
He fell silent, staring at the awe-inspiring list. Then, his eyes lit up with glee and determination.
"Young Master, this will be a legendary feast! I shall surpass myself! Generations of chefs will speak of this meal!"
"I expect nothing less," I said coolly. "Start immediately. I want everything ready by evening. If you need anything—anything at all—ask the head steward. He has orders to fulfill every request."
Monsieur Julien gave a bow so deep his hat nearly brushed the floor.
"With pleasure, Young Master! Absolute pleasure!" Then he hurried out of the room like a man afraid I might add something even more insane to the list.
I smiled. This was the feeling. The intoxicating thrill of absolute spending power. It was unexpectedly… delightful.
While Julien and his crew worked like a mad beehive in the palace kitchens, I realized food wasn't the only indulgence worth pursuing. If I was going to live in this world, I was going to live properly.
Next, clothing. My wardrobe was already filled with luxury, but it all reflected Nir's original taste—dark tones, formal cuts, fabrics screaming subdued wealth. I wanted something different. Something that reflected me.
I summoned the palace's chief tailor, an old man named Master Elias, with half-moon glasses perched on his nose and sharp eyes that scanned every inch of cloth with surgical precision.
"Master Elias," I said, standing before him, "I want a new wardrobe."
"Of course, Young Master," he replied with a calm, steady voice. "Any particular styles or materials in mind?"
"I want garments that are both practical and elegant. Strong fabrics, but comfortable. Jackets I can move freely in, but still carry an air of authority. Think processed dragonhide—soft as silk but still retains its protective nature. Think giant spider silk—said to be stronger than steel and light as a feather. Dark colors, yes, but accented with fine silver or black-gold details. Lined with snow-leopard fur to keep me warm during winter nights."
Master Elias listened intently, his fingers twitching as he visualized designs.
"Processed dragonhide… spider silk… snow-leopard fur… Those are incredibly rare and costly materials, Young Master."
"Cost is not a concern," I repeated my new favorite phrase.
"I also want cloaks. One woven from Shadowthread—so the wearer blends with the darkness. Another, magic-resistant, made from legendary salamander hide, lined with water-nymph scales."
"A cloak of Shadowthread…" he muttered, eyes glittering. "That's quite the challenge. Requires master weavers and special enchantments."
"I'm confident you'll find them," I said. "Take my measurements. I want prototypes within a week."
Master Elias spent the next half hour silently measuring me with meticulous care, murmuring figures and notes to himself. He worked without unnecessary questions. That's what I liked about House Verton's staff—efficiency and discretion.
When he finished, another idea struck me—my room. Already lavish, yes, but it lacked a personal touch—my touch, not Nir's.
I summoned the palace's head interior designer—Lady Armande. A fiery-haired woman in her mid-forties, known for her impeccable taste and ability to transform any space into a masterpiece.
"Lady Armande," I said, gesturing at the spacious suite, "I want some changes."
"I'm listening, young master," she replied in a soft, melodic voice.
"First, the bed. I want it made of pure griffin feathers, covered with sheets of moon silk—the kind woven only under the full moon. The pillows must be filled with the down of snow lotus flowers, which are said to bring peaceful dreams."
"An excellent choice, sir," Lady Armand commented, noting it down in a small leather notebook.
"I also want to change the lighting. These crystal chandeliers are beautiful, but far too traditional. I want lamps made from glowing cave crystals—ones that emit a soft, shifting light. And I want an eternal fireplace, burning magical wood that gives off a subtle scent of pine and amber."
"An eternal hearth... glowing crystal lamps... intriguing."
"And on the walls," I continued, "instead of these dark oil paintings of my dreary ancestors, I want maps. Detailed maps of the world, showing both known and unknown continents, deep seas, and towering mountains. I want a celestial map showing constellations, planets, and distant galaxies. These maps must be painted on the hides of mythical beasts, adorned with gemstones to mark significant locations."
"Cosmic maps... a bold idea, young master. It'll give the room a spirit of adventure and discovery."
"And finally, I want a small personal library in that corner," I said, pointing to an empty space. "Shelves made of blackheart wood, filled with rare books and ancient scrolls—texts on dark magic, noble family histories, monster legends, and forgotten martial arts. I want this library to be my personal sanctuary of knowledge."
Lady Armand studied me for a moment, a faint smile curving her lips.
"Young master Nier, it seems you have a unique and fascinating taste. I'll begin designing these changes right away. It will be a masterpiece reflecting your new identity."
"I hope so," I replied.
I spent the rest of the afternoon imagining how my new life would look with all these luxuries. It wasn't about vanity or mere extravagance. It was about reclaiming the years of deprivation I'd suffered in my previous life. It was about affirming my existence in this new world—and enjoying everything it had to offer. If fate had cast me into the body of the most powerful duke's son, why shouldn't I take full advantage of it?
---
By evening, my suite had transformed. The decorative changes hadn't started yet, of course, but a grand dining table had been set in the center of the room, covered with pristine white silk, adorned with gleaming silver and gold dishes, and crystal goblets so beautiful they stole the breath.
And when Monsieur Julian entered, followed by a procession of servants carrying covered dishes, I felt my heart quicken with genuine anticipation.
"Young master," announced Monsieur Julian with pride, "your feast is ready."
The servants lifted the silver covers one by one, releasing clouds of aromatic steam that filled the room with scents I had never experienced before.
There was a massive slice of young red dragon steak, grilled to perfection, its outer layer crisp and brown, and the inside pink and juicy. The smell alone was enough to make my mouth water.
Next to it was a dish of griffin liver—small golden cuts gleaming under the light, garnished with thin slices of rare black truffle, floating in a rich amber-colored sauce.
Then came the roasted baby phoenix, its golden skin gleaming like a piece of art, wafting the aroma of herbs and sweet spices.
The giant ghost-sea lobster came next, its bright red shell hiding snow-white flesh, served with slices of black lemon that looked like jewels.
And the golden mermaid caviar—tiny, shimmering pearls that resembled scattered stars, served atop crushed ice with thin, transparent slices of pearl flour toast.
There were also side dishes of rare vegetables, cooked in various styles, each resembling a work of art in itself. Baskets overflowed with exotic fruits of vibrant colors and unfamiliar shapes.
As for the drinks, they were presented in crystal decanters, each glowing with a different hue—Dragon's Blood wine in a deep, dark red, the golden Elixir of Life glowing with vitality, and silvery-clear Moon Spring Water.
I sat at the table and felt like a mythical king about to enjoy an immortal feast.
"Begin serving," I said quietly, barely containing my excitement.
The servants moved gracefully, placing small portions of each dish on my golden plate. I began with a bite of the dragon steak. The knife sliced through it effortlessly. I placed a small piece in my mouth.
My gods.
There was nothing in my past life—nothing even in my wildest dreams—that could compare to this taste. The meat was so tender it melted in my mouth, its flavor rich and complex, infused with a subtle smokiness from oak wood, with a hint of natural sweetness unlike anything I'd ever tasted. Every bite was an explosion of flavor dancing on my tongue.
Then came the griffin liver—creamy, smooth, melting into a velvet richness in my mouth, deepened by the earthy black truffle, with the sauce adding a perfect balance of sweetness and acidity.
The baby phoenix meat was white and delicate, soaked in the flavors of herbs and fruit, while its crisp skin was a masterpiece on its own.
The lobster meat was sweet and firm, blending perfectly with the tartness of the black lemon and the briny sea herbs.
As for the golden caviar, each tiny pearl burst in my mouth, releasing a light, refreshing ocean flavor with just enough saltiness to leave me craving more.
I ate slowly, savoring every bite, every flavor, every aroma. I drank the Dragon's Blood wine—it was strong and deep, with a history of fire and power behind it. Then I tasted the Elixir of Life, which flowed through my veins like warm energy, washing away any fatigue and renewing my vitality. Finally, I sipped the Moon Spring Water—pure, refreshing, cleansing my palate for more.
I ate alone, in silence, surrounded by servants who moved with quiet efficiency, refilling my glass and changing my plates. I didn't feel lonely. I felt satisfied. In control. Powerful.
This was what it meant to be Nier Verton. Not the quiet, idealized boy the novel described. But someone who could summon the greatest feast in the world—and have it served without question.
The banquet went on for hours. I tasted every dish, every fruit, every drink. I wasn't hungry in the traditional sense—I was exploring, discovering, indulging in a sensory experience I had never dared to imagine.
And when I finally finished, when I felt I couldn't eat another bite, I leaned back in my chair, gazing at the remnants of the legendary feast.
"Monsieur Julian," I said as the chef re-entered, pride and anticipation glowing on his face. "You've exceeded every expectation. This was the best meal I've ever had."
The chef grinned broadly and bowed deeply.
"Thank you, young master. It's the greatest honor of my life."
"From now on," I said as I rose from the table, pleasantly heavy with fullness, "I want all my meals to be of this level—creative, refined, and flawless. Don't hesitate to try new recipes or use the rarest ingredients. Your budget is unlimited."
"Understood, young master!" Monsieur Julian said with renewed enthusiasm.
I returned to my luxurious bed, feeling different. It wasn't the food that changed me—but the experience. The experience of power. Of indulgence. Of fulfilled desires.
I closed my eyes, a sly smile tugging at my lips.
"Ayla... romantic Nier... the Duke of Shadows... political conspiracies... all of that can wait."
Tonight, I was simply Nier Verton, the rich heir who had decided to enjoy his life.
And tomorrow... tomorrow I'd see what this insane world had in store for me. But I would face it with a full stomach and a high spirit.
And maybe, just maybe, I'd ask Master Elias to design me a light armor made from spider silk, inlaid with dragon scales. Just for protection, of course. Not for showing off. Never that.
The laugh that escaped me was quiet—but real.
A good beginning. A very good one.