Kashchey strolled casually through the city once more.
He took his time observing the latest trend among Ursus youths — the student self-formed societies.
These groups had become increasingly popular in recent years, influenced by the "new culture" flowing in from countries like Victoria and Columbia. Their members immersed themselves in rock music, Vodka, and frequent brawls. Each society's leader even bore a distinct nickname.
"Chaotic, yes… but there's a certain vitality to it," Kashchey remarked idly, watching a young man with a swollen, bruised face limp away down the street.
---
Such open brawling would never be tolerated within his own domain.
If anyone dared, the investigators from the Happiness and Peace of Mind Committee would be on their doorstep immediately, ready to administer psychological guidance.
This was possible because of the large-scale Originium Arts Kashchey had woven into his territory, allowing him to perceive, to a great extent, the origins, processes, and outcomes of nearly every incident that occurred there.
He had even shared portions of this authority with the Committee's investigators, enabling them to render judgments with as much fairness and impartiality as possible.
And few investigators ever strayed from their true conscience.
For the moment they tried, the Black Serpent coiled in their minds would stir…
And whisper a warning:
"Kashchey is watching you."
Within Kashchey's duchy, a post in the Happiness and Peace of Mind Committee was considered one of the most coveted careers.
No need to flatter superiors, no fear of being bullied, excellent pay and benefits.
The sole path to promotion was through results.
No bribes, no pressure from above.
Because Kashchey was watching everyone.
And the position was a lifelong guarantee.
Most importantly, for those families who had lived generation after generation under Kashchey's rule, having a fragment of his will implanted in them was hardly worth fussing over.
So what if they were being watched? Did anyone truly believe the Sun would waste its time coveting their privacy?
---
As a result, with the duchy thriving in peace and prosperity, even when conflicts arose, they were settled with words rather than fists.
Which meant that incidents of physical fighting had become, in the eyes of the Committee, something of a "rare commodity" for performance records.
When one did occur, the investigators descended upon it like starving wolves scenting blood.
And those involved would inevitably be torn apart, reputations ruined.
For you could never predict the heart of the investigator before you.
Were they calm yet resolute? Or passionate and extreme?
Would they let matters rest after a stern warning…
Or deliver private justice?
Still, in general, as long as one did not break the rules, the investigators had no interest in troubling you.
After all, Kashchey was watching them as well.
They could not afford to betray the trust of their great Duke.
Kashchey himself did not particularly like this arrangement.
It maintained stability, yes — but it left little room for change.
The development of the territory still required Kashchey to rely on his own experience and wisdom for overall guidance.
It felt like a stagnant pond—calm, warm, but lifeless.
Yet there was no helping it.
For the sake of his own safety, Kashchey could never relinquish his meticulous control over the domain.
A stable environment, loyal retainers, and grateful subjects—these, in his view, were the essential conditions for the nest of an immortal.
Even if such conditions made his life unbearably dull.
This was precisely why Kashchey enjoyed taking "occasional" vacations.
---
The appointed time soon arrived, and Kashchey prepared to visit the Rostov estate.
Once, it had been the residence of a count.
But later, Rostov, once a mere retainer, had seized everything for himself.
"Those who cannot keep pace with the times will inevitably be cast aside by them."
Guided by servants, Kashchey entered the grand hall.
The entire Rostov family was already assembled, waiting for him.
"Honorable Duke Kashchey, on behalf of the Rostov family, I pay my respects to you."
The family head bowed deeply before him.
Kashchey answered with a slight nod.
The others, Natalya among them, followed suit, bowing respectfully.
Such gestures no longer surprised Kashchey.
In Ursus, this was the proper etiquette before a duke.
With sensible tact, the Rostov patriarch soon escorted Kashchey and Natalya into his study. He knew well that Kashchey's purpose in coming was not idle chatter with him, but rather to see Natalya.
At Kashchey's station, he had no need to bother with the opinions of men like himself.
"Natalya, you've grown up."
Ignoring the others, Kashchey spoke directly to the girl, now elegantly dressed before him.
She wore a white gown, her carefully tended hair falling over bare shoulders, radiating a quiet, dignified grace.
No longer the little girl who trembled at thunder.
Kashchey could not help but feel a tinge of sentiment.
To him, it seemed only yesterday that this child had been small and naive. Yet in the blink of an eye, she had become a graceful young lady.
"Duke Kashchey…" Natalya replied nervously.
Though the two had kept in touch through letters since her return to her family, standing before him now made her uneasy.
Perhaps it was because she had grown older, and with age came a clearer awareness of the unbridgeable gap—of status, of lifespan—between her and the Duke.
Her feelings toward Kashchey were tangled: admiration, yearning, and perhaps even a touch of adolescent restlessness.
It was this very mixture that unsettled her.
"Natalya, relax. Have you forgotten? When you were a child, and too afraid to sleep alone, I used to tell you stories."
Kashchey's voice softened, gentle as though coaxing a kitten he had not seen for many months.
"Of course I remember, my lord. The tale you told most often was of the Crimson Solitaire… I still recall it clearly."
Feeling that the Duke was as kind and familiar as she remembered, Natalya eased into comfort.
Still a student, not yet at the age where one must plan meticulously for the future, she could not yet define her emotions.
The future can wait for the future.
---
Kashchey asked her about her recent life, especially her studies—something he cared for deeply.
"The work of the student council is important, Natalya. But your own ability matters just as much. The two must complement one another.
Only when social skills and personal talent combine can a leader's group remain stable and endure."
So spoke Kashchey, with the weight of patient instruction.
Are you her father, or am I?
The Rostov patriarch, standing aside, watched the warm exchange and felt strangely superfluous.
Though often preoccupied with his own duties and guilty of neglecting Natalya, at the very least he did look at her report cards.
Yet he could not deny that Kashchey's guidance was valuable—something to be welcomed wholeheartedly.
After all, how rare was it to receive the personal tutelage of an immortal?
If Natalya becomes Kashchey's student, then those damned old nobles who plot against me will think twice before making their move.
For the Duke of Kashchey was no ordinary pillar to lean on.
Here stood an immortal who had lived openly since the very founding of Ursus itself.
As for the nobles' vaunted lineage and history—who among them could compare to him?