၊ Character: Seven Hart (Yoon Seojin)
၊ Age: 15 (17)
၊ Status: Seventh Son of the Seventh Archduke of the Seventh Continent (Seventh Reader of ??? for Seven Years)
၊ Talent: None :)
Seojin blankly stared at the translucent interface before him.
'Heh. Of course it's a compulsory event! What kind of story doesn't shove a system in your face these days?'
He dragged his palm over his face, exhaling through his teeth, smearing the exhaustion in his expression.
"But… what the hell is up with that smiley?"
He frowned.
To be utterly talentless was one thing… but to have the system pity him with some stupid cheerful emoticon was downright humiliating.
He stared at the interface a little longer, though only his eyes betrayed the difference whereas lines spun in his irises like some hypnotic merry-go-round.
Slapping his cheeks, he forced himself back to reality.
Again, the interface display wasn't the stats that showed his capabilities, potential, or limits; rather, only the most basic of the basic details.
Then again, maybe figuring that out could wait. For now—
"...I guess I better get dressed first."
Step, step.
He picked up the set of clothes Iria had dropped after seeing him na… I mean, brought him at the cost of his dignity. He hesitated for a moment, then reached for them.
His face turned as red as a tomato in a tomato patch on a sunny summer afternoon, but he shoved the memory aside and wore the clothes anyway.
"Ugghhgh… I look like shit."
Looking into the mirror, he scowled.
"Considering I being the youngest child of a renowned sword family, shouldn't I be wearing something more… elegant than a shabby long-sleeve and black trousers?!"
Indeed.
Seojin looked exactly like a corporate slave— erm, no. A shut-in living a carefree life wouldn't get it. To put it simply, suppose Seojin wore a black tie, he'd look like someone working from eight to eight.
Thankfully, having no clue how to tie a tie despite somehow inheriting 'seven fathers' worth of experience', he just flung the thing onto the bed
Knock, knock.
"Y-Young Lord, are you, uh… done changing? C-Can I come in now?"
"Yeah."
The door opened.
Iria stepped in carefully, moving toward the table to gather the plates. The faint clinking of silver filled the silence.
Seojin kept his eyes on the mirror, pretending not to notice.
Neither of them spoke.
Seojin glanced at her through the mirror; Iria glanced at him at the same time. Both looked away immediately upon meeting each other's gazes.
"Um… I-I didn't mean to—"
"Forget it."
"I… I-I will."
She nodded too many times, her tray rattling slightly in her hands.
He sighed quietly, trying again to fix his collar again, even though it still looked the same. Truth be told, it only looked worse with each tug.
"Young Lord…?"
Iria looked at him and sighed.
Placing the tray down and rolling up her sleeves, reached for the tie on the bed.
"How many times have I shown you this already, Young Lord? Five? Six? Every morning, you pull it unevenly. You're supposed to do it gently, not like you're wrestling a goose."
"I'm not wrestling a goose."
"You looked like you were."
"I don't wrestle birds."
"You would lose."
"...Excuse me?"
Iria ignored him.
Her fingers moved deftly, the fabric whispering as she worked. She crossed the wide end, looped it through, pulled it down, and adjusted the knot in one smooth motion.
Seojin's eyes followed the motion.
'Up through the loop… pull down… slide it up… why does she make it look so easy?'
Seojin's mind raced as he tried to follow along. He flinched every time her fingers touched his neck.
"Hey, not too tight!"
"Right, right. So sorry about it, Young Lord~"
It was bizarre.
Her tone had changed. It was now lighter, teasing, and almost amused.
The nervous girl from earlier was gone. In her place was someone steadier, almost motherly, who seemed to genuinely find satisfaction in fixing his clumsy mistakes, panicking over something as simple as a tie.
Finished, Iria picked up the tray once more.
"I'll be downstairs, Young Lord. Please come by the carriage in ten minutes. We'll be departing for the Lordship's dukedom. Ah—"
She hesitated, poking a finger in her right cheek before whispering,
"Um, I heard the Lordship is planning a grand event and a giiiiiift for your upcoming birthday."
"...?"
Iria left the room before he could respond.
He glanced back at the mirror, adjusted the tie, smoothed his collar for God knows how many times! —and tilted his head.
"…It does look better."
A small, involuntary smile crossed his lips.
But the longer he stared, the more he found himself surrendering to this new reality, as if this was some kind of Utopia where peace is everlasting.
Perhaps, it was also the time to stop clinging to his Korean name.
"Seven Hart…"
Step.
He walked toward the window. Beyond the glass, snow drifted from the gray sky, blanketing the garden in slow, patient silence. Winter had just begun.
The world looked half-asleep yet strangely beautiful.
According to Iria, if this wasn't the main dukedom of the Lordship, then there's only one possibility: the Ascendance Lands.
A safe territory under the banner of House Hart; or at least, that was what people liked to believe. Children of the bloodline were sent there to 'grow' and to 'ascend'.
But that word 'ascend' was merely a pleasant lie.
In truth, the place was meant for the unwanted, failures, unworthy, and incompetents; a final chance for the luckiest unlucky heirs to prove their worth before their sixteenth birthday.
Failure meant complete exile. Even the servants bore responsibility and are punished for failing to guide their young master properly.
Seven thought of Iria again, but what he wanted was the way she said that single word earlier:
"Gift…"
That was the missing piece he had been wondering about since the system first appeared. The empty space it had refused to fill in.
After all, wasn't it common sense in every cliché transmigration story? Every newcomer received some kind of blessing, a skill, a talent… and a 'welcome gift'.
As if in response, a translucent window appeared.
၊ Gift: Deadman's Purgatory
၊ Description: A place of cleansing. A realm where impurities are purged.
"But what the hell is this gift?! Am I being sent to hell or something?!"