Patrick staggered back to his private office. Dropping into his chair, he glanced at the mountain of paperwork looming over his desk.
I guess I should at least read some of it, he thought.
He started with a document filled with endless business jargon. Terms so dense he couldn't even grasp the context. It was like reading his own language while it wore a mask of familiar looking symbols that made no sense even upon closer inspection.
However, after persevering through the fog of words, he finally found something that made sense: a blue stamp that read "Approved." Moving to the next document, he found another blue stamp, this one reading "Completed."
A pattern emerged, Patrick flipped through the stack, every single page bore a blue stamp. This could only mean one thing.
"Reidward handed me documents that were already finished," he said to himself. Since he was alone, he felt comfortable babbling aloud. "Damn, that guy has been a lifesaver. I should praise his work more often. It's the least I can do."
He muttered his thanks while neatly stacking the papers and tucking them into the box beneath his desk. Soon, the only objects remaining were a pen, the service bell, and a few smut novels.
"I should practice the customs of this world. That would be best."
Surprisingly, he tucked the novels into a drawer and opened the brightly colored book on etiquette that Reidward had given him. It took two hours of intense focus to memorize the basic manners outlined in the simplified text.
"Let's review... uh..." Patrick strained to recall the lessons. "Smile, look interested when you meet someone, and state your purpose for approaching them."
Patrick practiced the smile. Though he thought it was a simple expression, it was actually a blindingly perfect look for his devastatingly handsome face. He leaned forward toward an empty space, holding out his hand to shake the air while maintaining the grin.
"I met you today to congratulate you on your... uh... wedding?" Patrick asked the void. He wasn't particularly good at improv or mental roleplay.
He clutched his head, cringing at his own performance. Still, he knew he couldn't stay ignorant forever. The looming pressure of dealing with his fiancée forced him to try again. This time, he tried to imagine congratulating someone on a "Nobel Prize."
Then he paused. He was in another world, he had no idea if Nobel Prizes even existed here. With a sigh, he shook off the confusion and started the exercise once more.
He repeated the exercise until he could act relatively convincing, at least in his standard.
A faint knock on the door stopped him from about to do the next exercise about table manners.
Patrick said loudly, trying to make sure he used a voice that sounded authoritative, "What is it?"
A femimine voice responded, "Young Master, here are your snacks."
Patrick slighty stiffened, the Young Master bit out of another person's mouth apart from Reidward caught him off guard.
"Enter," he commanded, adjusting his posture to match the stately lord illustrations from the etiquette book.
The heavy oak door creaked open, and a maid stepped inside carrying a silver tray. The aroma of a sweet dessert and tea passed through the smell of ink and paper.
Patrick did not recogniz her, so he looked to the chest area to see the maid's name, it was Mina. She seems to be looking at the tray and trying to not take a glance at him as she approached.
Smile, look interested, state your purpose, he coached himself
As she set the tray down on the corner of his desk, Patrick unleashed the smile he had been practicing. It was meant to be a polite, professional acknowledgment. Instead, the sheer symmetry of his features combined with the sudden warmth in his eyes hit the room like a physical shockwave.
Mina froze, her hands trembling slightly as she let go of the teapot, luckily it didn't break or spill. She looked up, caught the full force of his practiced expression that was actually only moderately practiced, and the girl turned a shade of crimson that rivaled the jam in the tarts.
"Is... is everything to your satisfaction, Young Master?" she stammered, her voice an octave higher than usual.
"The tea smells excellent," Patrick said, his voice dropping into a smooth, resonant tone he never realized he possessed. "I was just finishing some... vital research."
He glanced at the etiquette book, which he had thankfully remembered to slide under a stray piece of paper, though the bright neon corner was still peeking out.
"Thank you for bringing these, Mina," he added, remembering the 'state your purpose' rule and twisting it slightly to fit the interaction. "I intend to enjoy them thoroughly before returning to my studies."
Mina bobbed a frantic, clumsy curtsy. "Of course! I-I'll leave you to it. Please ring the bell if you require anything else. Anything at all!"
She practically scrambled out of the room, shutting the door with a bit more force than necessary. Patrick blinked, the perfect smile fading into a look of pure confusion.
Was I too aggressive? he wondered, rubbing his jaw.
Maybe the smile was too wide. I probably looked like I was going to eat her.
He sighed and reached for a pastry desserr. As he ate, his eyes drifted to the service bell.
The etiquette book had a whole chapter on "Interactions with the Nobility," and he knew he couldn't hide in this office forever. If a simple snack delivery was this stressful, meeting his fiancée was going to be a catastrophe.
He swallowed the last of the food and stood up, smoothing his waistcoat.
"One more time," he muttered to the empty room. "Smile, interest, purpose. 'Good evening, my dear. I have come to discuss the... uh... the floral arrangements?' No, that's too specific."
He then tried the dinner table manners next, but he had no idea which was was for which, clearly he didn't remember this part of the manual properly, and he thought it felt stupid anyway.
Moving on, there's the part about how to continue a conversation and how nobles do it. Let's see, what was it... right, it was "Learn to read between the lines."
Patrick knew this was the hard part. He didn't have much experience focusing on what the other person meant by their actions and words while simultaneously trying to maintain his expression and posture.
I guess experience will make me more used to this kind of thing, he thought.
He remembered the next line, "Give a proper excuse and learn to speak articulately even when emotions are negative."
This basically meant learning to verbally abuse someone using "noble talk," insulting them while hiding behind a veil of appropriateness. It also meant learning how to gracefully leave a situation and control one's temper.
So this is noble customs... this sounds more like an elistist group. I'll try to read some lines here.
Patrick opened the colored book and recited some noble insults, "That rose colored dress looks so beautiful, at least until you wore it with that face. That face made the fabric look like a piece of mud."
This is dumb. Was this what Valeria was studying when she used those insulting words when we were alone...?
Patrick thought about it and realized Valeria was trying to see if he had some noble sense and deflect her insulting remarks.
"Why the hell do these elitist people talk to indirectly anyway." He groaned, somehow feeling how unncessary these things are.