KTD Chapter 1 (Part 3)

LONG CHAPTER AHEAD

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Although Jaynie disliked Berner, he hadn’t forgotten that Berner had once gone on a Mad Dragon hunt.

Even if it had been transactional, Berner had never refused Jaynie’s requests.

“Yes. I’ll bring your knight back safely,” Berner had said with his usual unbothered expression, making it easy for Jaynie to treat him like normal.

“But if I return alive, will you acknowledge me as a Blurwin?”

Hadn’t Jaynie accepted that audacious demand?

The Berner before him now didn’t know about that conversation. But wasn’t he still the same Berner?

Jaynie owed him a debt.

Suddenly, young Berner began taking off his clothes.

“What… what are you doing?” Hansen exclaimed, flustered.

Berner’s hands moved quickly. He shrugged off his outer coat and tossed aside the ribbon. After briefly struggling with the buttons on his shirt cuffs, he switched his attention to the buttons on his vest.

The vest dropped to the floor with a thud. As he was about to fling off his shirt, Hansen grabbed his hands in a panic.

“Apologies! Please excuse me!” Hansen said, completely frazzled.

Berner’s gaze didn’t waver. It stayed fixed on Jaynie. Their eyes locked.

Berner’s shoulders rose and fell as he breathed heavily.

“If this is clothing I’m not allowed to wear, I’ll take it off,” he said, voice trembling with anger.

“Do you not like the clothes?” Jaynie asked.

“…”

Berner shook his head.

“Put them back on. I’m not in the habit of stripping children for fun.”

* * *

Berner thought the situation was strange. Memories of his past encounters with Jaynie surfaced.

Could those even be called encounters?

After his mother’s funeral, the Duke and Jaynie had returned to the main estate, while the servants of the annex were dismissed, leaving Berner entirely alone.

Without anyone to teach him what was permissible and what was not, Berner often questioned his own actions—such as watching the Duke and Jaynie through the window.

One day, Berner rested his head against the window and looked down at the bustling activity below. The servants moved like ants, carrying luggage. Among them was Jaynie, who stood out in his pale vest and trousers, unlike the others dressed in black. The outfit suited him well.

Jaynie, looking tired, touched his head and glanced upward. Their eyes met, and Jaynie quickly turned away.

Berner had never seen such an expression on anyone’s face before. Even when the Duke first learned of Berner’s existence, his face hadn’t looked like that.

His heart pounded. That evening, Berner packed his belongings, convinced he would be thrown out immediately.

But nothing happened.

Now, the young master had summoned him to the capital. Berner was sure it wouldn’t be for anything good.

Of course, the journey itself hadn’t been pleasant. At sixteen, Berner hadn’t realized how absurd it was for someone his age to travel alone to the capital.

He hadn’t even considered calling for one of the Duke’s carriages and instead took a rented one.

That’s when things went wrong. After briefly dozing off in the carriage, he woke to find his bag gone. Thankfully, the money he had kept hidden on his person was still there. Splitting his funds into multiple pouches had been wise. At least he wouldn’t starve—probably.

After that, he had no choice but to continue the journey on foot. He slept under the stars near villages at night and walked the roads during the day.

That was why it had taken him two months to reach the capital.

When Berner arrived, dirty and disheveled, Hansen had been appalled.

“You don’t plan to present yourself to the young master looking like that, do you?” Hansen asked.

Berner, exhausted and hungry, retorted, “Why should I care? Do you think he does?”

“Yes, of course,” Hansen replied firmly. “The young master dislikes children, and dirty children? He despises them.”

With no response to that, Berner was scrubbed clean and dressed in ill-fitting clothes.

When he finally entered the room, the first thing Jaynie did was comment on his appearance.

“If these are clothes I’m not allowed to wear, I’ll take them off,” Berner said, his voice tense.

“Don’t like the clothes?” Jaynie asked, tilting his head.

Is he really asking for my opinion?

Berner hesitated but ultimately shook his head.

“Put them back on. I don’t have a habit of stripping children for fun.”

Jaynie leaned back on the sofa and pressed his fingers to his forehead—a gesture Berner recognized. His mother, Grand Princess Yerenia, always did the same when she had a headache.

The similarity startled Berner. Not only their gestures but also their domineering tones felt eerily alike.

“You don’t seem keen on talking to me for long. I suppose there’s no point in asking how you’ve been. Would you like to go to the Mage Tower?”

“Pardon?”

“I asked if you want to learn magic. How old are you now? If you were a noble child, this would be the time to learn either magic or swordsmanship. Since your father won’t take care of you, I suppose I will.”

“You, my lord?”

“Jaynie.”

Jaynie frowned in irritation.

“Yes?”

“Call me by my name. When did you become a servant?”

“…”

This feels so strange.

Berner had studied etiquette and culture with a tutor the Duke had sent. Initially, Berner had thought the Duke was being kind.

Of course, it wasn’t because the Duke liked him. It must have been for the Grand Princess’s sake. Still, Berner was the one who had benefited, so he felt obligated to repay the Duke by being a good student.

But no matter what Berner did, the tutor was never pleased. Even when Berner memorized books in a single day or recited noble lineages like a wind-up doll, the tutor always said it wasn’t enough.

“You’re a disappointment,” the tutor often said, sighing or shaking his head in front of Berner.

Had Yerenia not overheard the lessons and dismissed the tutor, Berner might have spent the rest of his life believing he was worthless.

Perhaps he already did to some degree.

The Duke hadn’t sent that tutor out of kindness. His malice had been wrapped in shiny packaging, making it hard to recognize.

If I call him ‘Jaynie,’ what will happen? Does he really mean to send me to the Mage Tower?

The Mage Tower, of all places?

Berner thought about the frightening rumors surrounding the Mage Tower—stories of experimental slaves who were dragged there to endure torture disguised as research. Would that be his fate?

He paled.

“No,” Berner said.

“Why not?” Jaynie asked, surprised.

In his previous life, Berner had willingly entered the Mage Tower. If he hadn’t, he would have been imprisoned.

The explosion at the Duke’s mansion had left the Duke with a limp and a deep scar on his face that even a priest couldn’t heal.

When mages, drawn by the surge of magical energy, came to investigate, Berner had left with them for the Mage Tower. He hadn’t returned to the Duke’s estate until Jaynie came for him.

“You’re already behind in education. You don’t even have a proper tutor. It’d be far better to enter the Mage Tower than to learn from an incompetent mage. You know the mages in the Tower bow to no one, not even the Emperor.”

“Did the Duke decide this?” Berner asked stiffly.

Jaynie’s expression soured. What did his father have to do with this?

“Did he tell you to sell me to the Mage Tower?”

Berner’s hands gripped the sofa armrest, his shoulders tense as though ready to bolt.

Jaynie had assumed Berner would leap at the opportunity, eager to seize the chance to prove himself.

But this young Berner was more suspicious than ambitious.

How do I handle this child?

Berner glared at Jaynie, the tension thick in the air.

Then, suddenly, Berner’s stomach let out a loud growl.

“…”

“…”

“Hansen, go to the kitchen and have another plate prepared,” Jaynie said calmly.

“Yes, my lord.” Hansen left the room.

“Let’s talk after you eat,” Jaynie said, rubbing his forehead again. His gaze drifted off, distant.

Berner, meanwhile, clutched his stomach, his face red with embarrassment, and sank deeper into the sofa.

Jaynie’s slender hand pressed against his temple, his fingers gently tracing his cheekbone, temple, and ear. His soft hair brushed against his fingers with each motion.

Berner watched.

As his embarrassment faded, a sense of longing swelled in its place.

Not too long ago, this had been part of his daily life—kissing his mother’s crown when her headaches struck, receiving her smiling kiss in return.

* * *

Jaynie still had one more person to find. The party that had successfully hunted the Mad Dragon had consisted of three people.

One of them was Joachim, the priest. His surname was unknown.

In his previous life, Joachim had become the youngest cardinal in history. Given a few more years, he would have been the youngest high priest as well.

He had originally been from the slums. The city he lived in had been mysteriously contaminated, causing spirits to rise from the graves and a red moon to hang in the sky even during the day. Joachim had performed a massive miracle to purify the city, catching the attention of the temple.

Even after becoming a priest, Joachim didn’t settle down right away. He traveled wherever people were in need, spreading the will of the gods, and eventually earned the title of “Saint” before entering the central temple. There, he studied scripture and rose to the rank of cardinal.

Jaynie, though not a devout person, couldn’t be unaware of Joachim. He was far too famous.

When Joachim returned from the Mad Dragon hunt, people raised funds to build a temple in his slum, Westville.

Jaynie had heard such rumors while sitting idly at his estate, listening to news of Leandro and his companions. That had been the period in Jaynie’s life when he was most interested in others.

Joachim was from Westville.

The young Joachim would still be there.

Jaynie intended to send Joachim to the temple. In his original timeline, Joachim’s miracle wouldn’t occur for another four or five years, which would be too late. He needed to begin honing his divine abilities now to bring them to fruition earlier.

“Apologies, my lord.”

Two servants knelt before Jaynie, looking up at him nervously. They were the ones he had sent to bring Joachim to the temple.

Their task had been simple: escort Joachim to the temple and deliver Jaynie’s letter of recommendation to the priests.

The problem, it seemed, was Joachim himself.

“Joachim robbed you?”

“Yes, my lord,” one replied hesitantly.

“And he ran away?”

“Y-yes….”

The servants bowed their heads. Jaynie gestured to Hansen, who quickly escorted them out.

When Jaynie decided to stay in the capital, most of the attendants who had followed him from the main estate returned home. The Blurwin townhouse, Pyvios, was maintained with a skeleton crew, enough to uphold the Duke’s dignity without excess.

Despite being a noble residence, the townhouse was modest. There was no space for soldiers, nor was there a need for many servants. Jaynie knew every servant who worked there.

He had chosen the fastest and most personable ones for this task, believing they would avoid conflict with Joachim. Clearly, he had been wrong.

According to their report, this is what had happened:

When the servants explained their purpose, Joachim had nodded enthusiastically.

“You’re sending me to the temple? To serve there? That’s wonderful!”

The beautiful boy’s shining eyes had instantly endeared him to the servants.

They bathed him, dressed him in fine clothes, and took him to an inn, planning to set out at dawn. Joachim had exclaimed, “This is the nicest clothing I’ve ever worn! The best food I’ve ever eaten!” His words moved the servants so much that they even gave up their beds to him.

But the next morning, Joachim was gone—along with their money pouches.

“What fools! Did you think slum kids were ordinary? They’re all thieves and con artists!” Hansen’s voice echoed as he scolded the servants. They stammered out protests.

“It wasn’t like that! He seemed so genuine….”

“Housekeeper, you didn’t see him. He really was—”

Jaynie remembered how, in his past life, Joachim had only agreed to join the party after Jaynie personally visited the temple. The temple had demanded that Jaynie bow and humble himself before they would even consider his request.

Jaynie had complied. Bowing low, he had requested an audience, and Joachim had appeared before him in a simple brown robe, indistinguishable from a monk’s.

The temple had demanded a fortune in exchange for Joachim’s assistance. But Joachim himself had only smiled as he listened to Jaynie’s plea.

“If you need my help, I’ll gladly give it. When do we leave?”

He had been the very image of a priest.

Jaynie had sent three wagonloads of gold to the temple for Joachim’s sake. When told of it, Joachim had smiled and said, “Well, at least no one will starve this year.”

It was a statement filled with the assurance that the temple would use the funds to feed the poor. Jaynie had known Joachim was called a saint, but it was the first time he truly understood what that meant.

Even with Jaynie’s plea, the temple sending their next high priest to hunt the Mad Dragon had been an extraordinary act. It could never have happened without Joachim’s consent.

The priest who had humbled himself to save the world had now robbed servants and fled?

Strange.

“Hansen, prepare for an outing. I’ll leave after my meal,” Jaynie said.

“I’ll ready the carriage. May I ask where you’re going, my lord?”

“Westville.”

“Westville, my lord? Please reconsider. It’s not a place suitable for someone of your station.”

Jaynie glanced at Hansen, who immediately lowered his head in deference.

“I’ll make the preparations. However, my lord, wouldn’t it be better to leave tomorrow? It’s late, and you might have to stay overnight there.”

“Then find an inn.”

Jaynie headed toward the dining room. Hansen had no choice but to follow. He couldn’t leave his master to dine without proper service.

* * *

Jaynie booked a room at the best inn in the center of Westville. Although the area was bustling, it didn’t meet Hansen’s standards. Compared to the capital, it was a miserably poor district.

A scruffy errand boy working at the inn carried their luggage upstairs, his hands full. Jaynie had instructed Hansen to pack only what was necessary for a few days’ journey, but Hansen, ever anxious, had packed seven bags to ensure nothing was lacking.

Jaynie didn’t care about the luggage. He had simply brought along three servants—the same ones who had failed to bring Joachim earlier. They were familiar with Joachim’s face and the workshop where he worked.

The hired mercenaries who had accompanied them entered the inn’s dining hall as soon as they arrived. Their loud voices echoed as they called for drinks, likely to end the night drunk and passed out.

“I’ll go discipline the mercenaries,” Hansen offered.

“Leave them. Let them rest,” Jaynie replied.

“And the boy? Shouldn’t we begin searching immediately?”

Jaynie shook his head and followed the errand boy to his room, trailed by the servants carrying the rest of the luggage.

“This is our best room,” the errand boy said, opening the door. The room had a bedroom with an attached sitting area.

“Do you need dinner or bathwater prepared?” he asked.

“No,” Jaynie replied curtly.

“Well, if you need anything, just call for me! I’ll head back downstairs.” The boy smiled brightly before leaving. Jaynie found his face oddly familiar but couldn’t place it.

Night had fallen outside. Jaynie called for the servants. The three knelt before him, heads bowed like penitents.

“Bring Joachim. You won’t fail twice,” he ordered.

“Yes, my lord. We’ll hurry.”

Three hours later, the servants returned empty-handed, drenched in sweat and looking more shaken than tired.

They reported that they had first gone to Joachim’s workshop, only to find it abandoned. According to locals, the building had been vacant for over a year, with no one coming or going. Asking around yielded no clues—no one knew a boy named Joachim who worked there.

“What should we do, my lord?” Hansen asked cautiously.

Jaynie, however, was distracted. The errand boy had entered the bathroom to prepare his bathwater.

“Wait until morning, then contact the information guild,” Jaynie said.

“Yes, my lord. But… is this boy you’re searching for so important?”

“I don’t have the time to waste on people who aren’t,” Jaynie replied coldly.

“In that case, wouldn’t it be better to request the Duke’s assistance?” Hansen suggested hesitantly.

“Why? Are you curious about what I’ve been up to?” Jaynie’s tone was sharp, and Hansen faltered, scrambling to explain.

“It’s just… it’s your business, my lord.”

Jaynie couldn’t tell whether Hansen was hinting at the Duke’s interest or not. Either way, it didn’t matter. Jaynie had always been a disappointment in the Duke’s eyes—he was a beta, after all.

The Duke’s attitude baffled Jaynie. He never expected anything from his son, yet occasionally entertained strange hopes. For instance, he seemed to believe that beta Jaynie could still impregnate an omega, convinced that Jaynie’s alpha heritage lingered somewhere within him.

The sound of water stopped. The errand boy emerged from the bathroom, his small frame clearly that of a young boy. His face was grimy, making it hard to discern his features.

“Your bath is ready, my lord. I’ll take my leave now.” The boy politely addressed Jaynie as my lord, mimicking the way others referred to him.

For some reason, Jaynie found himself studying the boy. He was sure he had seen him before.

Hansen entered the bathroom with bath salts. Jaynie allowed himself to relax, letting Hansen tend to him as he soaked away the fatigue.

The first day in Westville passed without any progress.

* * *

Jaynie woke in the dead of night.

“Shh.”

Someone was pressing a hard object against his throat. He recognized the feel—it was the sheath of a dagger.

His breath caught, and he let out a small cough. As his chest rose faintly, the intruder clamped a hand over his mouth.

The hand was small.

It wasn’t the hand of an adult man. The palm was rough, but it lacked the calluses of a knight who had undergone rigorous training. A knight’s hands were thick and firm from wielding weapons.

“Hello, my lord. This is a real dagger. Promise not to scream, and I’ll let you use your mouth again,” said a youthful, almost melodic voice—a boy’s voice.

Jaynie nodded.

The intruder removed their hand. Their face was concealed by a mask, leaving only their eyes visible. Narrowed like crescent moons, the eyes seemed to mock him.

“Good boy. I hope you keep being this cooperative. My lord, why are you looking for Joachim?”

“Do you know him?” Jaynie asked.

“You’re supposed to answer my questions, not the other way around,” the boy snapped.

The sharp edge of the dagger touched Jaynie’s chin. The intruder had unsheathed it silently, revealing skill and familiarity with the weapon.

Jaynie’s gaze stayed fixed on the blade.

“I wanted to take him to the temple,” he replied.

“Oh, really?”

The blade stayed steady beneath his chin, moving left to right. The sensation was unnervingly ticklish, until Jaynie realized blood was trickling down his neck.

His skin had been nicked.

Jaynie inhaled deeply. The boy was sitting on his stomach, pinning him in place with his weight. He couldn’t move.

“Why? What’s your relationship with him? It’s odd, isn’t it? A noble wouldn’t normally have any reason to get involved with someone like Joachim.”

“It’s not me; it’s the temple. Joachim was born with divine power,” Jaynie explained.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

The boy scoffed, his tone laced with disbelief.

Jaynie suddenly realized who the intruder was. He couldn’t believe it had taken him this long to recognize someone so strikingly memorable.

“Regretting abandoning him, are you? Or is it a matter of erasing evidence? Planning to lock him up in the temple and make him disappear from the world? My lord, are you my brother? Which noble house do you belong to? You must have lived well—your skin is so soft.”

“Abandoned him?”

“Are you fearless or just stupid? Do you really think I won’t stab you? You can’t play dumb after coming all the way here to find him. You should know better. Didn’t I say I’m the one asking the questions? So, which house are you from?”

Blood soaked the collar of Jaynie’s nightshirt. Fury boiled within him.

He was being threatened, injured, and coerced—someone dared to treat him like this.

* * *

Jaynie was furious.

How dare they?

Where was Leandro? His master was in danger.

Jaynie had never been exposed to such threats before. Even on the monster-infested frontlines, he had been safe—protected by the finest knight.

Leandro…

Ah, but wasn’t he here now because Leandro had killed him in a previous life?

His rage-fueled heart suddenly froze, and a chill ran down his spine. The overwhelming fury turned into a dreadful clarity, leaving him trembling with helplessness.

As Jaynie’s body began to shake, the boy on top of him seemed startled.

“What’s wrong? Hey, I didn’t stab you. Are you crazy? Hey, my lord?”

“Jaynie Blurwin,” he said firmly, his voice steadying.

“What?”

“I am the heir to the Duke of Blurwin. Drop your blade and bow your head!”

“What?”

“I said get off me, Joachim!”

Jaynie shoved Joachim. He hadn’t even been restrained properly.

Caught off guard, Joachim lost his balance, and Jaynie took the opportunity to kick him in the stomach.

“Ugh!”

When Jaynie had come of age, the Duke had arranged for him to be trained in magic. Though he lacked talent in sorcery, his father had shifted focus to swordsmanship under the tutelage of the family knights.

Jaynie wasn’t skilled with a blade, but he was competent enough to escape from a careless opponent.

“Hansen! Intruder!”

Jaynie created distance between himself and Joachim and shouted loudly. Almost immediately, he heard the sound of something toppling in the neighboring room.

“My lord!”

The mercenaries sharing the same floor had been roused by the commotion. When they burst into the room, Joachim realized he had nowhere to run.

“Damn it…”

Joachim threw down his dagger and dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead to the ground.

“I’ve bowed, my lord. Please spare my life.”

Jaynie nearly kicked him again but restrained himself. His anger was far from abated.

This insolent boy was the future cardinal? Jaynie reminded himself of that fact to keep his composure. Instead, he stepped on Joachim’s neck, pinning him to the floor.

His heart was pounding, adrenaline coursing through him. Jaynie was a noble—someone who never tolerated insults. His pride was wounded, and the thought of being unable to repay the insult infuriated him further.

Is this Joachim truly the same man destined to become a cardinal?

The mercenaries tied Joachim’s arms behind his back.

“Ah! Ow! Fine, I’ll behave. It hurts!” Joachim whined.

“Clean his face,” Jaynie ordered.

Hansen grabbed Joachim and hauled him to his feet. Joachim twitched as if to resist but quickly gave in. Jaynie noticed the boy sneaking a glance at him, which reignited his anger.

There had to be some mistake. The Joachim he remembered was a pious priest, not some street rat.

Joachim returned shortly after, his face dripping with water.

“Raise your head,” Jaynie demanded.

“Does the Duke’s heir have a peculiar taste?” Joachim quipped, smirking as he looked up.

That smirk—Jaynie knew it well.

Cardinal Joachim.

Priests, like accomplished mages, aged gracefully. Joachim, who had performed miracles in his youth, would likely maintain his current appearance for much of his life.

His face was almost identical to the one Jaynie remembered.

“Joachim.”

Joachim met Jaynie’s gaze directly.

“How did you know?”

“Your job is to answer, not ask questions,” Jaynie snapped.

“Ah, of course.”

Jaynie kicked him in the shin. Joachim yelped, clutching his leg, and lowered his head in pain.

If he continued being insolent, Jaynie was ready to teach him proper manners as many times as necessary.

The servants exchanged confused glances.

“My lord… the Joachim we were looking for wasn’t this boy.”

“Look at his face again.”

The low-level perception-distorting magic Joachim had used was fading. It hadn’t affected Jaynie, who was protected by multiple blessings from birth, but it had fooled the servants. When they saw his real face, they gasped.

“Joachim!”

“This is him, my lord!”

Joachim wasn’t a mage, so where had he gotten a spell like that? Jaynie knew of only one group that might use such tricks.

Thieves?

“Are you part of a thieves’ guild?”

“Ah, nobles and their assumptions…”

Jaynie kicked him again. Joachim let out a sharp cry.

“Answer the question.”

“No!”

“Then what?”

“I bought the spell, okay? Someone said I was being hunted, and the people looking for me were rich-looking servants. I managed to escape them once, but walking around with my real face would’ve been stupid!”

Joachim grumbled, sounding more annoyed than apologetic.

“Don’t lie. If you wanted to stay unnoticed, why work at an inn? And not just any inn—one where an outsider ‘rich’ enough to hire servants would obviously stay?”

“You wouldn’t understand, my lord. For people like me, losing a job is a big deal. We can’t just quit on a whim!”

“Every lie earns you a kick.”

“This is absurd…”

“What did you mean by ‘abandoned’?”

Joachim, who had been chattering nonstop, suddenly went quiet. His shrewd eyes scrutinized Jaynie.

“Are you connected to a noble family?”

“…”

Joachim clearly didn’t want to answer.

Jaynie didn’t press further. If Joachim was an illegitimate child of a noble house and they were searching for him, things might get complicated. However, it wouldn’t trouble the Duke’s house—only Joachim himself.

Jaynie turned to Hansen.

“Find somewhere quiet to keep him. We’ll take him in the morning.”

“Where are you taking me?” Joachim asked.

“Quiet.”

Jaynie repeated the order to Hansen, who barked at Joachim to keep silent. A mercenary stuffed a rag into Joachim’s mouth.

As Joachim was dragged out, he glared at Jaynie, his eyes filled with defiance. Jaynie had a sinking feeling that this boy would never willingly obey him.

It was troubling. Joachim was essential to Jaynie’s plans.

Yet his jaw throbbed where it had been nicked. Jaynie touched his face, feeling his palm grow wet with blood. He scowled.

Keeping a commoner who dared harm a noble alive—wasn’t that overly kind of him?

Hansen returned, horrified by the state of his master. As Hansen tended to his wounds, Jaynie resolved to send Joachim to the temple as soon as possible.

How could someone like this become that Joachim?

It had to be the temple’s training. Jaynie tried to recall which temple had nurtured Joachim.

The choice had to be made carefully. Not all temples were equal.

Priests were a unique class, and every nation on the continent followed the One True God. The Pope wielded immense power, and the temples held great influence. Corrupt temples were a blight on the empire.

Sending Joachim to one of those would ruin him.

Jaynie decided he would transform this insolent commoner into the saintly figure he had known.

* * *

Leandro quickly adapted to school life. When he first transferred, the other students were curious about him. Clean and well-dressed, Leandro gave the impression of being the child of a noble family.

“Could he be from a noble house…?”

Someone asked, and Leandro answered with a calm, noble air.

“No, I’m not.”

His eyes were mesmerizing, and his expression carried an air of melancholy.

The girl who had asked returned to her friends, whispering excitedly.

“He must be an illegitimate child of a noble, or maybe he’s hiding his identity for some reason. He’s probably from a distinguished family.”

“That’s got to be it. It’s like something out of a novel.”

“I’ve never seen anyone who looks like that.”

The other girls nodded in agreement. Someone with such striking beauty couldn’t possibly be ordinary.

However, during his first class, it was revealed that Leandro couldn’t read.

The geography teacher had been told that Leandro had connections to a prestigious family. The headmaster had received a personal request from the family to admit Leandro, and he had instructed the teachers to handle him carefully.

Occasionally, the school admitted illegitimate children of nobles or sponsored students for special reasons. Located near the capital, the academy often attracted the attention of aristocrats traveling back and forth.

The headmaster assumed Leandro was such a case. He didn’t care whether Leandro was a noble’s bastard or not; he only hoped the boy wouldn’t cause trouble.

“Make sure there are no issues,” the headmaster had said.

The geography teacher had interpreted this as *“Take good care of him.”* It wasn’t unreasonable—miscommunication is common, even when both parties think they understand each other.

During class, the teacher asked Leandro a simple question, intending to show him some favor. But Leandro couldn’t answer.

“Perhaps I didn’t explain it well enough,” the teacher said nervously. All eyes turned to Leandro.

Among the boys who had been tense at the arrival of the new and intriguing transfer student, a few smirked. The question had been about the characteristics of the capital, Avenhol.

But Leandro didn’t even know what “Avenhol” was.

“Well, if you look at page 108…” the teacher began.

“I can’t read,” Leandro said.

“Pardon?”

“I’ll learn to read and participate in class afterward.”

Shame reared its head, but Leandro ignored it. He was a former slave. Sitting among students who looked like his equals didn’t change that fact.

The other students were free citizens, most from wealthy families. Educating children wasn’t something just anyone could afford.

All Leandro could do was act as if it didn’t bother him.

Jaynie had been direct:

“Learn to read first. Ignore the classes for now.”

Leandro remembered those words.

He wasn’t being humiliated—he was ignoring these classes as instructed.

To prove himself worthy. To fulfill the orders of someone more noble than anyone in this room.

The students’ laughter seemed distant. Leandro remained calm.

He was still special.

The whispers quieted, and the teacher nodded.

“You may take your seat.”

Leandro sat down, picked up a pen, and began practicing letters on a sheet of paper. He felt the occasional glance but paid it no mind. He focused on Jaynie and nothing else.

Leandro’s striking appearance had always drawn attention, even in the small village where he’d worked as a slave. He knew how to use the goodwill it brought.

Within a week, he could read the class materials. By the time he started answering questions and reciting passages from memory, he had begun to gather followers.

Leandro lacked knowledge and social graces, and he was unfamiliar with school life.

But he wasn’t ashamed.

If he had been awkward or embarrassed, the other students wouldn’t have found him so intriguing.

People flocked to Leandro, eager to explain things to him. All he had to do was listen and thank them.

“Thank you.”

Those simple words made his helpers act as if he’d given them a precious gift.

Less than a month after transferring, Leandro became the most famous student at the school.

Student clubs vied for his membership. With advice and encouragement from his peers, Leandro carefully chose which groups to join.

Jaynie had been right—Leandro could rise to the level Jaynie expected.

And Leandro soon realized Jaynie’s second warning was also correct.

At a club meeting, he noticed a sweet scent emanating from an upperclassman. When their eyes met, Leandro felt a strange excitement. He was unfamiliar with the feeling but knew exactly what it was: an omega’s pheromones.

The artificial pheromone perfumes sold in the market must have been created by betas who had never experienced the real thing. Unlike the fleeting, superficial scents of those perfumes, the real thing stimulated something deeper.

That upperclassman was an omega.

When Leandro didn’t avert his gaze, the senior approached and sat on the arm of his sofa.

“Why don’t we go somewhere private?”

The senior’s hand rested on Leandro’s. Just that touch made his thighs tense.

“Temptations will come,” Jaynie’s voice echoed in his mind. His pale, cold face had warned, *“Beware the rut.”*

Leandro sighed deeply. The warm breath made the senior’s body react. He grabbed Leandro’s hand.

Leandro removed it.

“There’s a curfew at the dormitory,” he said.

Leandro returned to the dorms immediately, even though curfew was still far off. The campus was quiet, as most students were out for the weekend.

He had been assigned a single room. Though no one would enter, he locked the door and leaned against it. His lower body was tense.

It wasn’t because of unclean desires involving *him,* Leandro thought, horrified. It was the pheromones, not Jaynie….

But once Jaynie’s face appeared in his mind, he couldn’t shake the image.

That piercing gaze.

The words thrown carelessly while on horseback, without even a glance back at him.

That pale, slender neck.

The hat dropped onto Leandro’s head.

The hat now hung on a hook in the room. Unable to return it to Jaynie, Leandro had brought it back to the dormitory. He grabbed it and rubbed it against his face.

Heat surged through him.

He pressed his nose to the hat and tried to calm himself.

It smelled faintly of Jaynie—or so he thought. Though he knew it couldn’t be true, he couldn’t stop himself.

A shiver ran down his spine as he reached a peak of sensation. Breathing heavily, he buried his face in the bed.

*You’re insane.*