Chapter: 5 [Despair] [2]
"Why did you want to meet me?"
I settled into the high-backed African Blackwood chair, the heavy velvet cushion sighing under my weight. I made myself comfortable, or at least as comfortable as one can be when surrounded by people who view you as a stain on the carpet. Everyone else was occupied with their meal—the rhythmic clink of silver forks against fine bone china was the only soundtrack to my anxiety. I glanced at my uncle, Matrix Leafs, and finally threw the question that had been nagging at the back of my mind like a persistent migraine since I first stepped over the threshold.
"Oh, about that. It's nothing significant; I simply wished to have a brief discussion with you," Matrix replied.
He seemed momentarily startled by the sound of my voice, his light green eyes flickering toward me before he regained his composure. He spoke with a smooth, practiced elegance, but his casual tone only made me more cautious. In this world, "nothing significant" usually preceded a life-altering disaster.
"About what, exactly?"
I felt the weight of several gazes shifting toward me. I secretly gulped, forcing my throat to work against the sudden dryness, but I kept my face a mask of bored indifference. The "old" Ascera was a volatile, unpredictable brat; if I acted a bit sharp or impatient, they would just chalk it up to my usual immaturity. I didn't care about their judgment; I cared about their intent.
"Nothing much. I've simply heard that you've managed to create quite a ruckus outside these walls," Matrix said, his voice dropping into a conversational lilt that set my nerves on fire.
He was an expert at this—the noble art of speaking in circles without ever landing on a point. It was designed to make the listener feel small and erratic.
"So..." I prompted, my voice flat. I was desperate to know the final verdict. Was I being disowned? Was I being sent to a mana-mine? The suspense was a physical pressure in my chest.
"You got into a fight. You lost. You dragged our name through the dirt of the public square," Matrix continued, cutting a piece of mana-infused steak with surgical precision. "I suppose I hadn't expected much more than that from you, given your track record."
The annoyance was bubbling up now, hot and sharp. I was a twenty-year-old man in my head, and being lectured like a toddler by a man who couldn't even look me in the eye while insulting me was reaching its limit.
"Don't beat around the bush, Uncle," I snapped.
I expected a flare of [A+] rank pressure to crush me into the floorboards for my insolence. I expected a roar of anger. But Matrix just paused, his fork hovering mid-air. He looked at me, really looked at me, those piercing green eyes searching my brown ones for a hint of the usual flinching. When he found none, a small, curious smile played at the corner of his mouth.
"Quite annoyed, aren't we?" he mused.
I didn't blink. I didn't shy away. I stared back with a cold, flat expression, keeping my voice low and unnerving. "Just get to the point."
Matrix cleared his throat, sensing that the game of cat-and-mouse was no longer yielding the usual entertainment. He glanced around the table, receiving a row of equally annoyed stares from my grandparents and a look of awkward confusion from Aaron, the protagonist.
"Very well," Matrix finally spouted, his main motive surfacing at last. "After a brief discussion with your grandparents, your aunt, and your siblings, I've decided the most appropriate course of action is to significantly reduce your monthly allowance."
I froze. Then, a strange, hollow feeling washed over me. I dug through the fractured, messy files of the original Ascera's memories. My predecessor had been a disaster long before I arrived.
"...But I haven't received an allowance in over a year," I pointed out, my voice echoing in the sudden, dead silence of the room. "My funds were cut off for twenty-four months after that incident at the capital's central fountain last spring."
The atmosphere shifted instantly. The tension didn't break; it mutated. The expressions around the table were a chaotic mosaic of noble failure. My uncle's face went through a rapid series of shifts—from arrogance to sudden, blinking enlightenment. My aunt Sasa and my grandparents shared a look of pure, unadulterated "Oh, right."
"Hmmm. I... I seem to have forgotten," Matrix muttered, his authoritative persona crumbling into a heap of logistical embarrassment. "Your allowance was indeed suspended for two years. Now, this is... problematic."
He looked genuinely troubled, the way a man might look if he realized he'd tried to fire someone who had already quit. He turned to my grandfather, Jack Leafs, looking for a lifeline. "What do you think, Dad?"
Jack Leafs, the formidable [S-] ranker who looked like he belonged on a fitness magazine cover, was currently rubbing his chin with a look of profound confusion. His eyes were distant, lost in the archives of his own mind. "Hm. I... I don't actually know," he admitted.
I stared at them, my cynicism reaching an all-time high. I was being judged by a panel of people who didn't even keep track of their own punishments. It was absurd. I glanced at my grandmother, Tina, whose youthful face was currently a mask of blank bewilderment.
I think all of this is due to the mana in this world, I thought privately. It pushes the body to its ultimate limit, giving them the bodies of gods, but maybe it fries the brain's ability to remember the mundane details of a 'disappointing' nephew.
"Mom?" Matrix prompted again.
Tina Leafs started, her distant look snapping back to the present. She looked at my uncle, then at me, then back at her half-eaten salad. "No idea," she chirped, the words feeling like a slap in the face of my expected drama.
It was a farce. A complete and total farce. I was sitting here, prepared to beg for my life or negotiate for my freedom, and they were having a group-wide memory lapse. Just what in the world is this? You want to punish me, yet you didn't even realize I was already living in the punishment? They're freaks... all of them are absolute FREAKS.
I wasn't the only one feeling the whiplash. I glanced toward the "Main Characters" of the room. Rosy Maple and Aaron Hein were having a hard time maintaining their protagonist dignity. Their eyes were wide, their pupils dilating in a mix of shock and disbelief. This wasn't how the "Evil Noble Family" was supposed to work. It was supposed to be cold, efficient, and cruel—not a disorganized mess of forgetful aristocrats.
Beside them, Jasmine's face was turning a vivid shade of crimson. She looked less annoyed and more like she was on the verge of leaping across the table to strangle her own father for the shame he was bringing to the "Leafs" name. She caught me looking at her and whipped her head away, her ponytails snapping like whips.
For the first time in days, I felt a genuine spark of amusement. I leaned back into my chair, the tension draining out of my muscles. I had spent hours imagining my execution or my exile, and instead, I was watching a group of [A] and [S] rankers struggle with basic accounting. I watched Aaron, the typical "MC" who apparently found the whole situation so beneath him that he had already started to zone out, likely forgetting the fight ever happened because it didn't involve a hidden treasure or a new harem member.
Vera Ort remained the only constant—a crimson-haired robot standing perfectly still, his face as flat as a sheet of steel.
I felt a surge of confidence. I reached out and picked up my fork, ready to finally enjoy a bite of the herb-crusted omelette sitting in front of me. The eggs were still warm, the steam carrying the scent of truffles and mana-butter.
But as the fork reached my lips, Matrix opened his mouth once more.
"Wait. I have it," he said, his voice regaining that sharp, dangerous edge.
I froze. The omelette was inches from my mouth. My heart, which had just calmed down, gave a violent, painful thud against my ribs. My breath hitched, the cold air catching in my lungs.
"If we cannot cut your funds," Matrix whispered, his eyes locking onto mine with a predatory gleam, "then we shall simply have to find a more... physical way to ensure you remember your place."
The amusement died. The despair was back, and this time, it had teeth.