Seven sat at the desk, pen dragging across parchment.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
The mechanical clock in the corner of the desk marked the passage of 12 hours since his arrival in this world.
Scribble, scribble.
"These should be all the important events. I hope I didn't miss a thing."
He had just finished writing down every major incident he could remember for the next seven years.
Rising from the chair, he stretched and turned toward the calendar pinned on the bathroom door.
"First day of Bruma. Year 769. I still have a year before the official plot begins. That should be good news."
Seven narrowed his eyes.
"...But I only have six days to live."
His death was scheduled for the 7th day. He then tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling, fists clenched at his sides as he stared upwards.
Ding!
> The ceiling is beautiful, isn't it?
"...!!"
The system interface suddenly flickered into view.
Seven clenched his teeth and clicked his tongue, but that irritation turned into a smirk.
"It certainly is, especially tonight. I can die happy."
> ///////
Bright red diagonal lines slashed across the interface before the system disappeared.
"...Seriously?"
Seven stared at the empty air, momentarily at a loss.
Flabbergasted.
It was his first time seeing a system blush in real life. To be fair, there had never been such systems in real life— only in fiction works.
Then again, didn't he just accept the system's proposal?
"That was fun."
Seven folded the parchment and tucked it inside the desk drawer.
He shook his head.
The contents were far too sensitive to be hidden in such a plain sight. Thus after a moment's thought, he slid it beneath the mattress instead.
Returning to the desk, he opened the drawer again.
A book lay inside. It had no title, so he skimmed the opening pages, then shut it back close.
"A slice-of-life story about an errand boy becoming a high-class lawyer in another world…"
He blinked.
"This world also has isekai…?!"
Several more books lay beneath it. Tales of fabled knights. Voyages into the Black Sea. Most importantly, manuals detailing basic sword techniques.
"Oh."
He flexed his fingers thoughtfully.
"Despite these callus-free palms, it seems he did try to learn the sword."
In the first place, Seven Hart had attempted meditation to form his first zi ring every single day. The calendar's circled days were proof enough.
He would not persist like that without at least some desire to walk the path of the sword.
"There are still more storybooks, though…"
Entire other drawers were filled with them.
He picked one randomly and gave it a read. Ironically, it was the story of that errand boy from earlier, a story of a newspaper boy with a bike who found the news unreliable so he studied law after securing a scholarship.
Time slipped by unnoticed.
At some point, the book in his hands slid from his loosened grip and dropped flat against his face.
Thud.
A faint bubble formed at one of his nostrils as he slept.
- – — 777 — – -
Morning light filtered through the blue curtains.
The calendar bore a fresh circle around the 2nd day of Bruma.
Seven stood by the window, holding a cup of herbal tea. Steam curled from the surface as he took a cautious sip.
"Grrah! Still nasty."
The bitterness clung stubbornly to his tongue.
He shrugged and poured the tea out the window. Water splashed onto the potted plants, melting snowflakes on their leaves.
He then set the cup back on the saucer.
Outside, two knights trudged across the yard in patrol. Thin plumes of breath rose from their mouths as they chatted.
Seven frowned.
"Strange. How come they don't have those typical shining armor?"
Their equipment was sparse: leather boots, a single poleyn on one knee, and a sword at their waists.
They looked less like the elite knights guarding the youngest Hart and more like hired watchmen at a roadside inn.
"Damn it. No wonder Seven Hart ended up dead at the hands of some unknown culprit. These knights are total leftovers."
He scanned the horizon.
Though the Hart Duchy is 67 kilometers away, supplies should not be an issue. There should be enough money for proper protection.
"..."
Suddenly, he did a facepalm pose.
The memories he had inherited told him everything he wanted to know. That is, the allowance (or the budget) supposed for the knights is halved, the other half was used for his medication.
As it turns out, those nasty herbal teas prepared along with the breakfast cost a lot.
Mages of healer class are also occasionally visiting the manor to check and assess his condition, and mind you every session is twice the monthly payment of the knights.
Seven's face contorted.
"All those sessions, yet they weren't able to notice that a curse had taken root in my heart. Talk about incompetence."
Truth be told, he knew that those healers are competent enough to earn their positions (since a paragon-ranked healer is one in a thousand).
The curse tied to Envy is simply extraordinary.
A long moment of silence filled the room as Seven stretched his body.
Knock, knock!
Iria entered the room.
She walked by the desk and began organizing the breakfast utensils.
"My lord, forgive my boldness. I cannot help but worry. Would you have me inform the Archduke of the curse?"
"No."
Seven replied almost immediately.
Informing the Archduke wouldn't change a thing— it might even be a bad decision! The House of Hart has that one unchangeable rule applicable to all of the children:
You shall not intervene with your younger siblings' ascendance rite. The path is sacred and inviolate; each child must walk it alone.
Should any elder sibling conspire, interfere, or bear influence upon the ascension, their life shall be forfeited.
That is, because the Archduke might suspect one of his children as responsible for such action. If none admits honestly, then all of them will suffer the same fate.
That sounded an easy way out, but his gut is strongly against it.
'Of course, that is still included in the last of the list as a desperate choice if I run out of options.'
"Father must not know about this."
"As you say, my lord. Then at least let me find a knowledgeable magician specializing in curses."
"Do as you wish."
"Yes."
Iria bowed, picking up the tray and ready to leave.
"Ah. Forgive me, my lord, I nearly forgot. Please dress in casual attire today and accompany me below, as you requested last week. That will be all."
"Below?"
"Neamh, my lord. The village below this manor."
Iria looked him straight in the eyes before finally making her way and closed the door shut.