“Hale is here, Marquis Chekhov.”

“So this is Hale? He looks a bit nonchalant—but the recent incident where he repelled Xia Kingdom spies in the Understreet of District Six and saved House Childe’s young lady must be true. A person like him… not to be underestimated.”

“Sounds like Marquis Chekhov holds him in high regard?”

“How could he not? The moment Hale stepped in, Duchess Letitia’s eyes lit up. Even Christine, who’d been casually chatting with Count Reed moments before, turned her full attention his way. The rumors weren’t false. Regardless of this young master from House Faxius’s actual skill, the mere fact that he’s caught the eye of House Childe’s princess and a Vestal Candidate makes him worth courting.”

As Hale passed through the cluster of reporters and stepped through the swordsmanship venue’s gate, all eyes and murmurs converged on him.

Naturally, the Kingdom of Cathrine delegation—on a mission—observed him closely.

Siman simply noted Hale hadn’t been late this time. *Acceptable.*

Dean Morgan, having pursued higher cultivation these past years, hadn’t interacted much with Hale. Still, as a duke’s son, Hale warranted a proper greeting. The dean stepped forward, shook his hand, and briefly praised Hale’s decisive handling of the District Six spy incident. “Truly reminiscent of my younger days,” he added with quiet pride.

Before Dean Morgan could finish, Marquis Chekhov approached.

The Cathrine envoy didn’t address Hale directly. Instead, he turned to the dean: “This young master carries himself with such presence. He must be your academy’s ace for this exchange, correct?”

Hale was momentarily nonplussed. *I’m just here to slack off and fill a spot—how did I become the center of attention?*

*Is Marquis Chekhov’s eyesight failing with age?*

The noble youth beside Siman wore a golden holy sword emblem and several honor medals on his shoulder—clearly the intended main contender.

Hale vaguely recalled him. In Siman’s route, this NPC often appeared on the roster for the team-based swordsmanship exchange. Decent record. A reliable point-securing asset for Sanctum University.

Indeed, Young Master Andry believed *he* was today’s star. *What was his caliber?*

Sword training at seven. Top-three finish at the Adventurers Guild summer camp at twelve, earning the “Sanctum Bronze Seat.” Named Top Ten Outstanding Young Adventurer at fifteen. “Sanctum Silver Seat” by seventeen. He bypassed the White Knights’ path to join the Church’s Sanctum Knights preparatory program—a choice shaped by his background. Though his father was a marquis, their estate lay outside Saint Louis; he was, essentially, an out-of-town noble. This exchange was both his effort and the academy’s gesture.

He’d resolved to shine. Spotting so many influential figures upon entry had secretly thrilled him.

Yet reality diverged.

Since arriving, only Dean Morgan had greeted him like a teacher to a student. The Cathrine delegation ignored him. House Childe’s young lady paid no heed. Even the observing Vestal Candidate looked away.

*Weren’t they here to watch the match? As the top seed, shouldn’t I get attention?*

His pride stung—but he rationalized: pre-match focus might seem biased. He’d earn the spotlight through skill.

Then the black-clad youth entered.

The venue’s atmosphere ignited.

Andry wasn’t the star. He was backdrop.

*Hall Fasius.*

The name surfaced. *Isn’t he just a spoiled noble heir?*

Rumors painted Hale as someone here to slack off and pad his resume. Diplomatically, the Papal Dominion always included an underqualified noble heir to concede a match—whether three rounds or five.

So why was everyone fixated on *him*?

Baffled, Andry stepped forward to join the conversation and project his resolve.

Too late. Chekhov and Hale had already parted.

Forced to greet Hale, he received only a perfunctory:

“Good luck to us both.”

Andry echoed the hollow phrase, utterly speechless.

Then watched Hale retreat alone to a corner.

…

Hale just wanted peace. The truth settled in: the academy hadn’t recommended him. The Cathrine delegation specifically requested him after hearing of the spy incident. *They wanted to assess me.*

Ambiguous.

Because the Empress of Cathrine was also a heroine. Her route mirrored Letitia’s—lower risk, S-rank swordsmanship talent (S+ after awakening), high starting levels, the Everbane Frostblade as signature weapon, full access to national resources. Her integrity meant little personal wealth for players, but reputation started at late-game levels: cheaper purchases, effortless recruitment, even zero-interest bank loans for a year. Slightly harder than Letitia’s route—more quests, less leisure.

Theoretically, no connection to Hale.

Unless the player, overconfident after early power spikes, declared war on a Demon Lord or allied with the Salvation Sect against the Papal Dominion.

Then scenario difficulty spiked. Facing top-tier enemies. If the heroine’s team lacked levels or key recruits—they’d get humbled.

And the system would aggressively recommend *him*. Even force events: the Northern Empress visiting the Papal Dominion to “unlock” Saint Louis for a “chance encounter” with Hale.

*Wait. In early game, the Cathrine delegation’s visit required a player choice… meaning the Empress personally approved it.*

Hale’s mind clicked.

A chill crept up his spine.

*Has the Empress of Cathrine already noticed me?*

*Too soon?!*

A sweet, girlish voice cut through his thoughts:

“Dear Young Master Hale… what are you pondering all alone here?”