Scaling the outer wall of a cultivation estate while possessed by the athletic prowess of a lukewarm noodle was not Jett Voland's idea of a productive Tuesday. His fingers, currently clawing at a decorative obsidian gargoyle, felt like they were made of damp crackers.
"Note to self," Jett wheezed, his boots scrabbling for purchase on a protruding rune stone. "Invest in a grappling hook. Or a gym membership. Or perhaps just stop sneaking into the rooms of women.
He reached the stone ledge of his own shabby quarters and tumbled inside, landing in a heap of midnight-blue silk and sweat. Behind him, he could still hear the distant, muffled echoes of the Grand Matriarch's voice ringing out from the infusion chamber. It was a sound of absolute, terrifying relief.
[System: Host Life Signs: Accelerated. Adrenaline: High. Dignity: Not Found.]
"Shut it, you glowing toaster," Jett muttered, crawling toward his bed. "I just saved the female lead from becoming a luxury refrigerator. I've earned a bit of heavy breathing."
He didn't have much time to bask in his survival. The PR-C flickered at the edge of his vision, the blue light pulsing in time with a sudden, sharp ache behind his eyes. It wasn't the usual system notification. It felt... heavy.
[Synchronization reaching 70%... Fragmentary Soul Resonance Detected...]
"Oh, here we go," Jett groaned, clutching his temples. "The 'Isekai Backstory Dump.' Hopefully, the original Jett had some cool hobbies, like sword fighting or being secretly rich, and not just 'advanced staring at shoes.'"
The world blurred.
The memory hit him with the clarity of a high-definition fever dream. He was ten years old, standing in a garden that smelled of blooming moon-lilies. Beside him sat a girl with the same frost-white hair as Sera, but her eyes weren't ice, they were shy, darting toward him with a nervous flutter.
"Here," the young Sera whispered, her voice tiny. She thrust a crudely carved wooden bird into his hands. It was lopsided and smelled of cedar. "You looked... lonely, Jett. Mother says I shouldn't play with other's, but I think you're okay."
Jett suddenly realized that sera has not always been this cold, and a faint smile graced his lips..
The vision shifted, turning cold and dark.
Jett saw a different version of his past. He was in the old Voland Merchant House. Every night, a girl draped in a heavy crimson cloak watched him from the shadows of the attic.
She never spoke. Instead, she left "gifts" on his pillow. A jar of preserved eyes from the boy in the neighborhood who used to bully him.
A lock of hair tied with a string of dried intestines. A note written in dark, iron-scented ink: I am watching. I will burn the world for you, my Love!
Jetts comments inwardly
"Original Jett, you absolute buffoon," he gasped, rubbing his face. "You had a violet-eyed psycho-waifu ready to commit war crimes for you, and you chose to be a doormat for the Ice Queen? I really need to work on my predecessor's taste in women. Or his survival instincts."
A third fragment flickered, a glimpse of a stunning woman with an aura like velvet and a smile that promised both heaven and a very complicated legal battle. His aunt. The relationship in the memory was... ambiguous. Deeply attached. Far too intimate for a simple family bond.
Jett's eyes snapped open in the present. He was drenched in a cold sweat
"And a MILF aunt," Jett noted, his sarcastic armor returning as a defense mechanism. "Truly, this body was the protagonist of a completely different genre before I moved in. I've stepped into a crossover event."
The ruminations were cut short by the sound of boots marching toward his door. Jett scrambled to hide his blue-tinted alchemy vial and smoothed his robes just as the door was kicked open by the ever-charming Steward Grevin.
"Get up, you useless waste of silk!" Grevin barked, though his sneer lacked its usual conviction. There was a flicker of something else in his eyes, wariness. "The Matriarch has finished her... consultation with the physicians. Your 'lucky' survival has prompted her to give you a new duty."
Jett stood up, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve. "Ah, Grevin. Your timing is impeccable. I was just in the middle of a very important meeting with my own exhaustion. What's the new task? Scrubbing the floors with my hair? Or acting as Professional target practice for the guards?"
"Silence," Grevin snapped, though he didn't move to strike. "You are to report to the infusion chamber immediately. The Matriarch has decided that since the physicians are 'baffled' by Lady Sera's sudden stabilization, and since you were so vocal about her condition before, you are to shadow them as an observer."
"Shadow the healers?" Jett let out a hysterical little laugh. "You want me to watch the most expensive doctors in the Canton ignore the guy who actually did the work? I love it. It's like being invited to watch a group of monkeys try to fix a space shuttle with a hammer." Though he didn't say this part outwardly.
He followed Grevin through the halls, his mind already spinning. The Physicians were taking the credit for his Resonance-Stabilizing Draught. It was the classic "incompetent side-character" move, and Jett was more than happy to let them have the spotlight. A hidden strategist lived longer than a visible miracle worker.
The infusion chamber was crowded. The head physician, a man who looked like a sentient raisin in grey robes, was waving his hands over a sleeping Sera, his fingers glowing with a faint, useless green light.
"It is as I suspected, Matriarch!" the raisin announced, his voice booming with unearned authority. "The sudden stabilization was a result of a rare planetary alignment reacting with her dormant Vane bloodline. My subsequent Prana infusion has merely sealed the victory."
Jett stood at the back of the room, leaning against a pillar. Lyra Vane was standing by the bed, her eyes narrowed. She didn't look convinced, but she looked relieved enough to let the man keep talking.
"A planetary alignment," Jett whispered to himself. "Yes, of course. Jupiter was in the house of 'I-Almost-Died,' and Saturn was feeling particularly generous. Meanwhile, I'm standing here with second-degree alchemy burns on my palms, but sure, let's give the credit to the stars.
Lyra's gaze shifted to Jett. It was a piercing, predatory look that stripped away his defenses.
"Jett," she said, her voice a low hum. "The physicians claim Sera is out of danger for the next seventy-two hours. Since you seem to have a 'knack' for noticing patterns, you will stay here. Observe her recovery. If her breathing so much as hitches, you will alert me personally."
"I'm a human baby monitor now," Jett replied, offering a shallow bow. "I shall guard her sleep with the ferocity of a very bored accountant. Though I must ask, do I get a stool, or am I expected to cultivate the art of standing still until my legs fall off?"
"Stay," Lyra commanded, ignoring the quip as she swept out of the room, taking the self-congratulating physicians with her.
Finally, the room was quiet.
Jett walked over to the bed. Sera looked peaceful, the ice on her neck having vanished, replaced by a healthy, porcelain glow. He noticed the scent of the Ghost-Flame Herbs still lingering faintly on her pillow.
Suddenly, her eyes fluttered open. They weren't the hazy, distant blue of the crisis. They were sharp, focused, and immediately locked onto his. She stared at him with an intensity that made the PR-C pulse in his chest.
"You," she rasped, her voice a ghost of a sound.
"Me," Jett said, his sarcastic mask sliding back into place. "The resident disappointment. I'm here to make sure you don't accidentally spontaneously combust while the doctors are busy patting themselves on the back."
Sera didn't look away. She sniffed the air, her brow furrowing slightly. Her gaze dropped to his hands, the ones currently hiding the raw, red marks of his forced essence refinement.
"The scent..." she whispered. "It was you."
Before Jett could deflect with a witty remark about his new cologne, a servant entered the room, looking disturbed.
"Lady Sera! Master Jett!" the servant squeaked. "A messenger from the gates! Young Master Kael Ravenforth of the Raven-Spire Clan has arrived. He... he requests an audience. He says he has brought a "gift" for you
Sera's expression hardened instantly. The temperature in the room plummeted ten degrees.
"Tell him I'm indisposed," she said, her voice like cracking ice. "Permanently."
Jett leaned back, his eyes narrowing. Kael Ravenforth. The name
"Seems like some noble clan pest is interested in my wife" Jett thought, the blue system light reflecting in his eyes. "And he's bringing a 'gift.' How convenient. I suppose my schedule for the afternoon just got a lot more complicated."
He looked at Sera, then at the door.
"Don't worry, Ice Queen," Jett muttered under his breath. "If he wants to play doctor, he'll have to get through the intern first."