Amanda de' Medici, Marchioness of the Medici family, sat elegantly, her golden hair catching the breeze. William lay comfortably in her lap, large sapphire eyes tracing the riotous bloom of spring flowers around them. The mansion's grandeur rose behind them—twenty stories tall, sprawling across eight thousand acres, complete with three gardens, two stables of fine horses, and servant quarters.

He shifted, then whispered:

"Third Eye."

 

NAME : Julia

ESSENCE : Earth

LEVEL : 51

 

William's miniscule head turned back to survey the estate he'd only just seen. Not as vast as mine… but still grand.

From the edge of his vision, Wiz piped up:

[AHHH,

THE SOFT LAP OF NOBLE BLOOD,

SPRING FLOWERS, FRESH TEA,

A GIANT MANSION…

MAN, YOU'RE IN HEAVEN.

WANT TO TRADE PLACES

WITH YOUR ETERNALLY CURSED ROOMMATE?]

William ignored the interruption. His gaze settled on Amanda as she lifted her teacup. Watching her hair flutter, he thought: She's beautiful. Truly.

 

He reminded himself: Amanda de' Medici—daughter of Count Cerchi. A warrior in grace, elegantly sword-training despite her title. It was that strength that caught Edgar's—his father's—eye years ago.

 

William leaned closer, intrigued by her soft strength. The Marchioness noticed the regard and returned his gaze with maternal warmth laced with aristocratic poise.

He whispered again:

"Third Eye."

 

STATUS WINDOW!

NAME: Amanda Medici

ESSENCE: Nature

LEVEL: 50

RACE: Human

AGE: 26

HP: 5100/5100

ESSENCE: 7000/7500

STATS:

  Strength: 5010

  Agility: 5090

  Intelligence: 130

  Durability: 5000

SKILLS: Whine Whip, Thorn Barrage, Wine Shield, Heal, Brabble Storm, Forest Prison

 

As the window lingered, William reflected: She's paragon-level—professorial strength. She thrives in battle just as much as in social grace. Yet her end in the novel—dying in a Dark Elf invasion—felt chillingly tragic. She could have escaped; she chose to stay.

Wiz couldn't resist.

[OH MY, SUCH SELFLESS HEROISM!

HA HA HA HA,

SO FUNNY.]

William sighed inwardly. Love… can push people to stand and die.

Wiz immediately snapped back:

[HEY! DON'T IGNORE ME! (╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻]

He studied Amanda's reflection in his mind's eye, wondering if self-sacrifice was strength or weakness.

 

 

As William lingered in thought, footsteps approached—measured, confident. A tall man appeared beside Amanda: Edgar Medici, his father.

The maids bowed instantly. Without a word, Edgar took the seat opposite his wife. His silent presence exuded nobility and command. When he gestured, the servants quietly dispersed.

William studied him with quiet curiosity. Every movement was deliberate, his emerald eyes sharp as blades. So it's true—he always takes tea with her in the garden at this hour.

[HA HA HA!

YOU'VE GOT SOME EXCEPTIONAL PARENTS, HUH?]

William nodded slightly. Indeed.

As the couple spoke softly under the warm sun, William ignored their words and mused:

"Everyone wears a mask—some to lead, others to survive. But the best liars?"

"They believe their own."

A hollow smile tugged at his lips.

"And sometimes," he whispered, "the mask is the only thing keeping the pieces from falling apart."

His small figure reflected in Amanda's eyes—calm, delicate, but eerily quiet for a child.

[HE MAY BE WEARING A MASK—

BUT DAMN, HE WEARS IT LIKE A KING.

MAJESTIC AS HELL.]

Whispering again:

"Third Eye."

 

STATUS WINDOW!

NAME: Edgar Medici

ESSENCE: Wind

LEVEL: 72

RACE: Human

AGE: 34

HP: 7280/7280

ESSENCE: 10700/10800

STATS:

  Strength: 7200

  Agility: 7220

  Intelligence: 140

  Durability: 7200

SKILLS:

Wind Slash, Tempest Kick, Wind Shield,

Feats of Hermes, Hurricane, Eye of Tempest,

Bow of Fury, Domain of Gale Sovereignty

 

So powerful, William thought. And yet he still failed to protect her. How tragically useless is sacrifice without success?

["HEHE … SACRIFICE  FOR  LOVE .. HUMANS  ARE  STRANGE .

BUT  THEN  AGAIN —YOU'D KNOW MORE  ABOUT THAT THAN ANYONE, WOULDN'T 't YOU?"]

Wiz's voice slithered through his thoughts.

William's breath hitched. His mind flashed—

A lamp shattered.

A smear of blood.

A farewell letter.

Tear-blurred ink.

Her handwriting.

His voice was soft—but laced with steel.

"Careful, system. You're brushing up against what's left of my patience."

The words echoed like a gunshot in silence.

Wiz said nothing more.

William smiled again. A quiet giggle left his lips.

Too light.

Too innocent.

Too practiced.

 

Edgar, noticing his son's laugh, smiled and gently picked him up. His emerald eyes softened. William reached toward his father's face. Edgar kissed his hand and stroked his silver hair.

"It's a blessing that William is healthy again," Amanda murmured. "It frightened me when he suddenly fell ill."

Amanda's hand found Edgar's.

"Don't worry. He'll be fine. He'll grow into a better man than I ever was," Edgar replied.

William, passed back to Amanda, began to cry. He reached again for his father.

Amanda chuckled, "It seems he loves his father more than me."

"Then I have no choice," Edgar smiled, taking William back into his arms. The crying stopped.

With William in his grasp, Edgar turned toward his office.

[HEY... ARE YOU STILL ANGRY, WILLIAM?]

 

Edgar entered his grand office, still holding William gently in his arms. The room was vast—polished wood floors, walls lined with books and maps, the Medici crest hanging above an enormous desk carved from midnight oak.

Edgar carefully placed William into the plush chair opposite his own and handed him a pen—something to keep his little hands busy.

Knock. Knock.

A rhythmic sound at the door.

"Who is it?" Edgar asked, his voice deep and calm.

"It's me, James. Your Grace, may I enter?"

"You may."

The door opened, and in stepped James—tall, well-dressed, composed. His slick black hair and polished glasses gave him an air of precise professionalism. His demeanor was careful, but his smile... a bit too rehearsed.

When he noticed William sitting upright in the chair, gripping the pen, James chuckled softly. "So, you brought the young master today. How is he feeling?"

Before Edgar could respond, James corrected himself, seeing his liege's gaze narrow. "I mean—how is the young master feeling, Your Grace?"

"He is fine," Edgar replied, voice even but firm.

James exhaled, relieved. "Good to hear, Your Grace."

[WILLIAM!]

"Keep quiet, Wiz."

[ARE YOU STILL ANGRY?]

"I'm never angry," William whispered with a small smile. "I just never forget."

[WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO?]

"You'll see."

 

James stood, back straight, as Edgar scanned several documents.

"When will the trade center's construction be complete?" Edgar asked, eyes not leaving the papers.

"It will take five years now, Your Grace. Originally, it was scheduled for three, but Emperor Ymir II delayed the final approval."

"Why?" Edgar's tone sharpened like a blade. "Doesn't he understand that this center is crucial to trade between dwarves and humans?"

"You're correct, Your Grace," James said quickly. "But the Emperor claims the project has too many human investors. He's... displeased."

Edgar's face turned cold. "The Medici family is financing this. Does he think us merely investors?"

James's composure cracked. "P-Perhaps it's more political—he wants equal contributions from other races."

A pressure built in the room—the atmosphere thick, electric.

"He doesn't want the Medici influence expanding across borders. He doesn't want us to become essential to intercontinental diplomacy."

Edgar exhaled through his nose. "Ha... short-sighted fool."

 

William watched the exchange, quietly observing the undercurrents of power and rivalry.

[YOU'RE SMILING AGAIN.]

"I see now. The emperor is worried," William murmured internally. "Afraid the Medici will become too powerful to control."

 

Edgar continued, "What of the agreement with the elves?"

James hesitated. "Still no progress, Your Grace. The elves refuse to engage in diplomacy with humans."

"And the Magic Tower?" Edgar asked. "Weren't they appointed to mediate inter-racial conflict?"

"They've remained neutral, as always."

"Then they're useless," Edgar snapped. "Dismissed."

James bowed and left with haste.

 

William sat silently, watching the door close.

[WHAT HAPPENED? WHY ARE YOU SMILING AGAIN?]

He looked down at the pen in his hands, tiny fingers still wrapped around it.

"The board is the same as I remember."

 

I just have place my pieces "