"I must say, son, you really have changed since you woke up from the coma a month ago," Finn's father said as the two of them sat down for dinner.
Finn paused for just a fraction of a second, long enough to weigh his response. He lifted his eyes slowly, careful not to show surprise.
"What do you mean, Father?" Finn replied, acting as if he didn't know what the Baron was talking about.
Truthfully, it was only a matter of time before someone noticed. He had expected this conversation sooner. Nadia had been the first to grow suspicious after he talked a bit too much, letting unfamiliar thoughts slip through conversations that should have been simple. Finn had talked his way out of it by claiming he had anemia, blaming exhaustion and memory lapses on a weak body. He wasn't exactly lying. He truly had no recollection of Finn's past. Not a single memory.
Sometimes that emptiness felt heavier than guilt. Faces, habits, emotions that should have belonged to him felt like borrowed clothes that never quite fit.
He had once asked Nadia what he had been like before the accident, hoping her answer might spark something, anything. Instead, her response had been so obviously fabricated it almost made him laugh. She claimed he had been a kind, gentle man who loved studying and spending all his time with her alone. Bullshit. Someone who got poisoned in a salon was clearly up to no good.
"I like this change," the Baron continued. "It's as if your mother's prayers finally worked. No more mingling with corrupt nobles, no more wasting entire days burning their fathers' sweat. You should remain like this."
His father's voice carried approval, but also relief. As if the son sitting across from him was finally someone he could understand.
He smiled as he cut into his steak..Finn watched the movement of the knife, the practiced precision of a man who had lived with authority even as it slipped through his fingers. The smell of the food was modest. No excess seasoning, no luxury. Just enough to eat, just enough to survive.
"Thank you, Father. I'm glad you like the new me," Finn said, relieved that the man didn't press further.
A quiet breath escaped him that he did not realize he had been holding. After all, he was still his son, at least in name.
"Dad, can I ask a question?" Finn said after a brief pause.
His father looked up, meeting his gaze. "Yes, my son. You may proceed."
"Why are we broke?"
The question fell between them, heavier than it sounded. Finn had tried not to ask it for days, but the signs were everywhere. Fewer servants. Empty storage rooms. Armor that had seen too many repairs. Plus increasing of tax fees, the thought had been running through Finn's mind ever since he noticed the financial state of the Barony of Grace.
The moment the question left his mouth, his father stopped eating. The knife rested against the plate, unmoving. He stared at Finn, not with anger, but with something closer to resignation, clearly trying to find the simplest way to explain.
"Son, this kingdom has many sides," the Baron finally said. "I chose the wrong one, and I am being punished for it."
"What does that mean?" Finn asked.
Though he spoke calmly, his mind raced. Alliances. Politics. Power games he did not yet understand. None of it made sense to him.
"When you become a Baron, you will understand," his father replied.
The answer felt final. He wiped his mouth and stood up, signaling the end of the discussion.
"Oh, that reminds me. The Duke of Eastside sent us an invitation to his daughter's wedding. I would love to attend, but I have an important meeting, and your mother has gone to visit her sister. So you'll be the one representing our family. Make sure you leave a good impression."
Finn straightened slightly. A wedding. Nobles. Exactly the kind of gathering he had been avoiding.
He turned to leave, then added, "Sir Raymond would have escorted us, but he took the day off due to some family matters. Son, I wish I could protect you better, but I can only afford a single knight."
"Am I going alone?" Finn asked.
"Yes."
Finn watched his father leave the dining room, his back straight but heavy, as if carrying the weight of choices long past.
So I really am going alone, he thought.
Weeks of avoiding noble gatherings, trying not to mingle, trying not to create unnecessary plot conflicts, were about to come to an end.
...
The wedding hall was alive with sound. Laughter, music, voices layered over one another in a way that felt overwhelming.
"…I hate this wedding," Finn muttered, holding a glass of wine as he stood among a gathering where he clearly wasn't welcome.
Eyes flicked toward him and then away just as quickly. Whispers followed, subtle but sharp. An event meant to celebrate a union felt more like a ranking salute. He knew no one. Every few steps, he was forced to bow to nobles of higher status.
Sometimes he was merely told to bow, the command delivered casually as if it were his natural state. Other times, someone would shove his head down without warning. Fingers pressed against his skull, forcing him lower.
Each time it happened, the instinct to punch them in the face, one by one, burned inside him. His hands tightened around the glass. He even fantasized about killing them all with a single punch, if only he had Saitama's power.
'Curses to the author for not giving me a system'
The bowing never stopped. Regardless of rank, nobles treated him like a prop, forcing his head down with sweaty hands, drawing more stares and whispers. His jaw clenched. The taste of wine turned bitter on his tongue. He downed the glass in one gulp and decided he'd had enough.
Fresh air hit his face the moment he stepped outside.
"Leaving already?" a finely dressed noble asked as Finn mounted his horse.
"Yes, I am. I wouldn't be on my horse if I wasn't."
"Good. I'm leaving as well. Might I join you? We're heading the same way," the noble said as his horse was brought forward.
He mounted smoothly, too smoothly. Finn glanced at him, unease settling deep in his chest, wondering why the man insisted on following him and hoping he wouldn't cause trouble.
"For the last time, I do not recognize you," Finn said sharply. "I have amnesia, in case you're asking. And please, stop talking."
The gentleman didn't stop. He kept trying to strike up a conversation as they rode on, his voice calm, almost amused.
The lane was narrow and dark, bordered by trees that swallowed sound. The crescent moon was visible enough to guide the path, its pale light stretching across the ground. The noble's clinginess made Finn's stomach twist. Something about the man felt wrong, dangerous, but Finn couldn't prove it.
That uneasy feeling turned real when his horse suddenly stopped.
It halted abruptly, letting out a sharp, agitated noise loud enough to echo through the path.
"Hey, what's going on? Move," Finn commanded.
"Looks like the horse has reached your final destination," the fine noble said calmly as he dismounted and began circling Finn.
'knew it. Something was fishy,' Finn thought, keeping his eyes on the man.
"You're right," the noble continued. "You don't know me. But you'll wish you never forgot after what you did to me."
Before Finn could react or escape, an arrow struck his horse. The animal collapsed with a heavy thud, throwing Finn to the ground.
He barely had time to think. He was alone. He could still fight. With the few combat moves he knew, maybe
Something slammed into the back of his head.
Everything went dark.