"Master, I've come to take you home," the servant said, standing early at Hagart's doorstep awaiting Rhode's exit.

He slightly raised his head, noticing the dark circles under Rhode's eyes—as if he hadn't slept a wink all night.

But he dared not ask such an impertinent question and silently lowered his gaze again.

Rhode didn't catch these subtle cues. Even if he had, he likely wouldn't have cared.

Stepping outside, Rhode shot a resentful glare at the crow perched on Hagart's rooftop chimney.

The crow cast a startlingly human-like glance his way, eyes gleaming with faint disdain.

Ugh—annoying! He was actually being looked down on by a mere crow.

Last night, Rhode had stayed up all night chasing it, collapsing from exhaustion right in the hall.

Had Hagart not woken him this morning, he'd still be fast asleep.

"Try again next time," Hagart said with a smile, waving farewell.

Rhode rolled his eyes and climbed into the carriage.

This world's tech tree was seriously skewed.

Sure, train-like transports existed, yet carriages remained the city's norm—supposedly to conserve energy.

But seriously: if a street battle erupted someday, bullets spraying from machine guns while a carriage trotted past… wouldn't that feel utterly jarring?

Rhode silently grumbled about his ride, then flopped down.

"Wake me when we're home. I'm sleeping," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

While Rhode dozed in the carriage, Shilo had already risen early to meet his sword instructor.

Unlike Rhode, Shilo adored swordsmanship—earning genuine fondness from the family-hired tutors.

Rhode couldn't care less, skipping lessons year after year. Teachers and family alike were deeply displeased.

Shilo had sighed over it countless times.

But he'd heard his elder brother recently hired an outsider to teach him.

Maybe Rhode was finally turning over a new leaf? If so—truly cause for celebration.

The Carasco legacy must not break. Shilo believed this wholeheartedly.

Raised on tales of honor, he deeply valued tradition and pride.

"Good morning, Teacher," Shilo greeted politely.

"Hmm," the instructor nodded.

"Shall we begin?" Shilo asked eagerly.

"Not today," the man replied. "From now on, I won't be your teacher."

He stepped aside, revealing a woman behind him.

Tall, poised, she wore a sleek combat outfit, a sword sheathed at her waist.

Deep crimson hair pulled into a high ponytail.

Her presence screamed "cool beauty"—not seductive, but radiating fiery passion.

Energetic? Fiery? Closer to… a happily grinning wolf.

"Miss Felisha will teach you now. Appointed by His Majesty," the instructor explained.

The Emperor took heirs' training seriously. Shilo, gifted with the blade, earned this new mentor.

Felisha traveled from the Imperial Capital to Clinton specifically for him.

She'd heard whispers of a "rising star" and felt curious.

But seeing Shilo's ten-year-old frame, she thought the title premature.

Overpraise like this—if a child's spirit wavered even slightly, it could lead to being "killed by praise."

And that was among the cruelest ways to ruin someone.

"Felisha-sensei?" Shilo quickly adjusted his address.

A faint smile touched her lips. She gave him a knowing look and gently ruffled his hair.

*Adorable*, she thought. *But sharp.*

She didn't dislike cleverness—it meant intelligence.

"Correct. I'm your new sword instructor now," Felisha said, pinching his cheek with playful mischief.

*This little cutie… surprisingly endearing.*

Shilo blinked in confusion, a faint blush warming his cheeks at the unexpectedly intimate gesture.

"I'll leave him in your hands," the former instructor told Felisha.

He knew her reputation: student of the Imperial Sword Saint.

But her true fame? "Red Wolf."

Before teaching, she'd been a top-tier adventurer—A-rank at twenty.

No trivial rank; B-rank already equaled "silver" in the gold-silver-copper hierarchy.

(Though many powerful figures never registered, so ranks didn't tell the whole story.)

"Bye~ Leave it to me," Red Wolf waved off casually.

However uneasy the old man felt—Shilo was hers now.

"So… Teacher Felisha, what shall I practice today?" Shilo asked, an unusual unease prickling him—as if he might be devoured any second.

"Hmm…" Felisha tilted her head, thoughtful. "First, show me all the basic forms you know."