Although Alicia's father had given a favorable evaluation of Baston's performance, the quest did not measure a single pair of eyes.
It required much respect. It did not come from one man only, not from the head alone but from the entire family.
When he opened the old book in the silence of his repaired room, the verdict appeared without hesitation.
The old book deemed his performance as bad. The word did not glow and it did not tremble. It simply showed him about the result.
He stared at it longer than necessary. The letters seemed thinner than usual as if the old book itself had judged him with mild disappointment rather than fury.
He exhaled slowly, trying to remind himself about what he had done.
The sparring match had improved some impressions and that much was true. The elders had seen his restraint and they had seen his calculation. They had seen that he was not fighting to humiliate but to test.
However, the younger generation had seen something else and it was defeat. That defeat tasted bitter when swallowed in one's own courtyard.
In truth, he had not intended to win so cleanly. He had planned to drag the exchange longer. To create a narrow margin and to make it look uncertain, but Theodore had collapsed under the pressure far too quickly. There had been no time to craft a believable struggle.
A performance must be measured. Too strong and the resentment grew but too weak and the respect vanished. He had miscalculated the balance.
The elders understood what had happened. The butler's eyes had sharpened midway through the match. The family head had leaned back while his fingers were tapping thoughtfully. They recognized that he had never drawn out his full capacity. To them, the sparring resembled an examination rather than a victory.
Still, the youths did not possess such vision.
In their minds, something intolerable had occurred. A noble bloodline had been stepped on by a poor with an unimpressive appearance and fat body. Their pride rejected the reality and they replaced it with a simpler explanation.
It was all tricks and he must have cheated. Otherwise, how could such a person defeat Theodore. With their own conviction, the hateful seed had been planted.
"At least, it's not the worst…" Baston murmured to himself.
The worst meant punishment while the bad only meant information. Still, this information was unpredictable. It might be valuable if he could foresee it and it might be useless in some kind of situation.
The old book did not explain itself. It never did since it only judged, rewarded, and punished. And then, it just watched.
He closed the book slowly but his fingers did not release it immediately. There was always something unsettling about receiving a bad evaluation. It meant he had not completely failed yet he had not understood something crucial either.
What exactly had he missed?
The respect indeed was not merely an admiration.
The elders respected the strength when it was controlled. The youths respected the strength when it was dominant. The two standards were not the same and he had only satisfied one side.
The book did not care about fairness since it measured the results.
Had he underestimated the emotional backlash of public defeat?
Or had he failed to account for something deeper within this household that consisted of old rivalries, fragile pride, and hidden insecurities?
A family was not a battlefield yet it was far more complex.
He replayed the sparring in his mind again, dissecting each motion. The moment Theodore's breathing faltered, the slight tremor in his wrist, and the instant he advanced instead of retreating.
Perhaps, if he had stepped back instead. Perhaps, if he had allowed one more exchange. Perhaps, everything would turn better if something changed before.
The problem with the performance was that once it was displayed, it could not be withdrawn.
A seed had been planted but it was not of admiration yet it was full of doubt. Such doubt was dangerous because it made people curious. Their curiosity would lead into investigation and such matter would uncover the things that should remain buried.
Baston's eyes drifted toward the faint mana inscriptions along the ceiling. The estate was layered with defensive enchantments, detection grids, and silent alarms. This was not a place where the secrets moved easily.
If someone truly began observing him carefully, would they notice the inconsistencies?
The thought lingered and the old book remained silent in his lap.
The result was bad and it was not the worst. He exhaled through his nose since this meant he still had room to maneuver.
The respect could still be earned or manipulated.
Now, he wondered how to gain enough respect for the old book to be satisfied. Since the sparring had ended and the result was only a bad one, he had to think of the other ways.
The looming silence kept his mind in focus yet he met with a dead end. After all, he had no freedom to explore the mansion. He was only a guest and he was confined in this one room without nowhere to go.
Could he really increase his own respect?
Perhaps, it could not be from the youths. Their pride had been wounded but for the elders, they were different. The influence moved downward from the top. If the patriarch and the senior members regarded him favorably, the younger generation would be forced to adjust.
Such respect indeed could be engineered. He had just begun outlining the possibilities when someone knocked the door.
"Knock… knock… knock…"
"Yes? Is there something?" Baston called out.
The door opened before he could grant any permission.
Baston's gaze sharpened instantly since someone he had known visited him. The great wizard Angus stepped inside as if the room belonged to him.
The timing was almost ironic.
At the moments ago, he had been thinking about the first bad reward he had ever received. Now, the man himself stood before him, smiling as though nothing in the world could possibly go wrong.
Unlike their first meeting, Angus carried no pressure in his posture. However, his eyes were more observant than before.
"Long time no see, hmm?" Angus said casually, "May I?"
"As the lord of the house, I can't possibly refuse you."
A faint chuckle escaped the old wizard. He entered fully and with a casual flick of his fingers, a translucent barrier shimmered briefly around the room.
It was the soundproof magic and the air soon shifted. Baston's spine straightened almost imperceptibly. A wizard like Angus did not cast such spell without reason.
"There are many things I wish to discuss," Angus began, "Still, let us proceed step by step. Do you remember what you mentioned at Prius Academy?"
"About what?" Baston replied, though his mind was already searching for any reason.
"About an infused mana potion that was combined with ice attribute."
"Ah… Yes, I remember that…" Baston said evenly, "What about it?"
Angus clasped his hands behind his back, "I mentioned the concept to an acquaintance. After all, he is rather obsessed with the research. Naturally, he quickly attempted the experimentation."
Baston's heartbeat did not change but his thoughts sharpened. It was about the old book's bad reward.
Back then, he had considered it trivial. A mere piece of information that was tossed into the wind. He had not expected it to take root somewhere.
"I had nearly forgotten about it," Angus continued, "But recently, he contacted me. He wishes to meet the one who provided such insightful direction."
"No…"
The refusal was immediate, making Angus blinked. He had anticipated the reluctance but not toward this decisiveness.
"Do you really need to refuse before hearing the benefits?" Angus asked and he was amused.
"Yes..." Baston's tone did not waver.
If he was questioned deeply, he would not be able to explain the theory. The knowledge had not come from his study. It had been given by the book before reasoned by Joker. He could not risk the exposure through his ignorance.
More importantly, the fame was visibility and toward this visibility was his own vulnerability by then.
"Well…" Angus sighed lightly, though his eyes glinted with intrigue, "I did not expect you to reject the recognition so completely."
"I prefer not to get famous," Baston replied.
Angus studied him for a long time before he smiled, "In that case, there is an alternative. My acquaintance is willing to purchase the rights to the formula. Three hundred thousand pounds was his initial offer. I persuaded him to increase it to four hundred and fifty thousand."
The number echoed in the room like a dropped coin in a well. Even Baston's composure trembled for a fraction of a heartbeat. After all, four hundred and fifty thousand was the money he had never dreamed about.
Externally, he remained calm. But internally, a storm erupted. Money meant leverage, resources, mobility, and options. He should not miss such chance.
"Alright…" Baston said, "But I do not possess a bank card."
"That is easily solved. I shall accompany you to open an account."
The complication for opening the bank account was soon came up to his mind. The excitement dimmed slightly beneath the cold logic.
If he opened an account, the official records would be updated. His financial status would be reviewed and his classification as the poor would change. All of his debt would be calculated and collected.
In the end, the kingdom was not charitable enough for someone like him.
The subsidies that were given during the childhood education were not their gifts. They were more of investments. Once he graduated, the repayment was mandatory. The resources that was consumed after all this time would be reclaimed in money back.
If his account reflected the wealth, the collection would be swift then. He would ascend from the poor class to the commoner. His freedom would increase and the same applied to his visibility. Eventually, the past debts would devour most of the funds.
His fingers tapped lightly on the armrest.
Remaining a poor had disadvantages which were restricted access and limited travel but it also provided the invisibility. The people would not fear the poor boys and the nobles would not monitor them closely.
"There's also the problem regarding Clark..."
The name surfaced silently in his mind. If he changed his status abruptly, his movements would be recorded and the enemy would notice.
"No…" he said at last, "I will accept the payment but I do not wish to open an account under my name."
Angus's brows rose slightly. It took him only few seconds to infer the reasoning. The boy still moved cautiously, hiding from the so-called Joker. His thinking indeed was wise.
In Angus's mind, a theory formed. The fat boy remained wary of Joker so being a poor meant obscurity and such obscurity guaranteed his survival. The great wizard soon did not press further.
"Very well…" he said calmly, "We shall arrange a discrete transaction then."
The tension in the room eased slightly. After some additional discussion, Angus prepared to leave. Before he stepped out through the door, Baston asked about the access to the estate library.
Angus waved the matter away, "Such trivial request, I will inform the butler..."
The wizard departed and the silence returned again. However, it felt different now.
He had secured wealth yet he had chosen the shadows. He had gained opportunity yet he accepted the limitation. The quest still required the respect and such respect tonight would be tested.
*****
The evening descended gradually across the estate and the butler returned to inform Baston about the invitation.
It was a dinner, a formal one. His clothing had also been prepared. The treatment had subtly improved.
Was it because of the sparring?
Or was it because of Angus's influence?
It did not matter. The most important thing was their perception was shifting. He then dressed carefully. It was not done extravagantly since he knew his own status.
When he entered the dining hall, the position of the seating immediately revealed the hierarchy. There were two tables, consisted of the elders and the youth.
He instinctively moved toward Alicia's side but the butler gently redirected him.
"To this table, sir…"
"Sir?"
The word carried a weight. Unknowingly, he sat at the same long table with Angus and Alicia's father. As soon as he took a seat, the awkwardness coiled inside him. He did not belong here or perhaps, he had been placed here deliberately.
Across the hall, Theodore's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. The whispers traveled like the thin threads of tension between the younger people.
A sparring victory should not elevate a poor guest to the elder's table. Unless, there was something they did not know.
Unbeknownst to everyone, Angus had spoken before the dinner. He had recounted Baston's encounter with Joker.
The invisible contest had became an important discussion. The fact that Claire and Teres, the accomplished individuals, had been reduced to the observers while Baston maneuvered against a dangerous opponent alone made him quite famous.
The elders had listened and they reevaluated him again. The fat boy's ordinary appearance now contrasted sharply with his extraordinary composure.
He did not act like a reckless youth and he acted like someone who saw several steps ahead. To the elders who valued the foresight, that was worth more than flashy strength.
*****
At the youngsters side, the resentment brewed quietly. They interpreted such elevation as favoritism.
Theodore's disappointment burned inwardly. He replayed the sparring again and again, searching for hidden deception.
There must have been one and there had to be. Because if there wasn't, then the difference between them was real. That fact was far more difficult to accept.
Meanwhile, at the elder's table, the conversation flowed carefully. It was regarding the politics, the kingdom matters, and the subtle inquiries about Baston's academy performance. Each question was layered and each answer required the balance.
Baston responded modestly. He was never boasting and never shrinking. He redirected the praise toward teamwork when it was possible. After all, he didn't want to appear bigger.
Even though so, the more he spoke, the more the elders observed. He was thoroughly measured and evaluated.
Across the room, Alicia watched him. Unlike the others, she did not allow the emotion to cloud her judgment.
Her father's interest was too focused and Angus's glances were too knowing. The sparring alone could not justify this.
There was an information that she had not been given. Something had shifted beyond a mere courtyard duel and she intended to uncover it.