After this walk, I can confirm that whatever happened, I wouldn't have been able to refuse the engagement. The Baroness wasn't merely suggesting it— she was practically issuing an edict. There was a gleam in her eyes that made it clear that nobody could stop her. What confuses me is the fact that she seems to care about my opinion on the marriage and yet doesn't, like she's asking me but has already decided everything. From my memories, I know she doesn't dabble in politics— at least not the official, council-table kind— but in the refined battlefield of high society, she's a force of nature. She has her network, her influence, and an uncanny ability to maneuver people into positions where saying "no" simply isn't an option. And once she's decided on something, even the Baron himself might as well step aside.
The thing is, I could see it all unfolding in her mind while we spoke. By the time she was done, any resistance I might have considered felt almost laughable. I didn't agree to the engagement so much as I was swept into it like a twig in a strong current.
Honestly, it's times like these when I'm grateful for Sebastian's memories. Without them, I'd be walking into every conversation half-blind, missing the hidden currents beneath polite words.
Take Orville, for example. If I hadn't already known how strangely hostile he is toward Sebastian, I might have mistaken his snide remarks for something serious. They're not. The kid treats me like I've committed some unforgivable crime against him, but I'm fairly certain it's just immaturity— he decided Sebastian was an enemy simply because Sebastian never showed him much interest. The same way he was distant with everyone.
That foreknowledge lets me respond without hesitation, matching his tone without betraying how little I care about his opinion. It's a balancing act— too much reaction, and I risk creating a scene; too little, and he thinks he's getting under my skin. Fortunately, Sebastian's preferred approach was cool indifference, which isn't hard for me to pull off.
In short, the Baroness has me cornered socially, and Orville's circling like a hawk for any sign of weakness. And me? I'm just trying to play the part well enough that no one notices Sebastian isn't really here.
My resolve to run away has only gotten stronger. If there was even the tiniest hope that the engagement wouldn't happen just because I said I didn't want it, well, that's gone now. Nobles don't deal in choices— only the illusion of them. Which means the next step is obvious: prepare everything I'll need once I'm gone.
Money isn't the issue. Sebastian's allowance alone could keep me well fed for at least a year. But coins can't carry water, food, clothes and other tools I'll require. And I can't exactly run around with three suitcases with me. If I want to survive outside these walls, I'll need something else.
The Baron's spatial ring.
It's small enough to wear without drawing attention and useful enough to hold food, tools, and whatever else I can cram inside. From Sebastian's memories I know it's kept in the treasury with the other family heirlooms and artefacts that no one's touched in years. There are enough that maybe they even notice if a small ring is gone, hopefully. Its not exactly lying out in the open, but not unreachable either.
Of course, the thought doesn't sit perfectly well with me. Stealing isn't something I imagined myself doing. Then again, I never imagined waking up in another man's body in a noble house with an arranged marriage hanging over my head like a guillotine. Compared to that, the moral line feels… negotiable. And if I'm generous with my own conscience, I could call it borrowing. For a very, very long time. Indefinitely that is.
But resolve isn't the only thing I need, what I need is a plan... Seriously, I've started to hate the word plan, why can't anything be simple..... Anyway, the treasury is locked, guarded, and deep in the basement. I'd have to figure out when the guards are least active, how to get past them, and— most importantly— how to make it look like nothing's missing at all.
I lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling as if the answers might be carved into the plaster. My head feels heavier than it should. Maybe it's the kind of tired that one feels due to mental fatigue. Because, seriously— since the moment I woke up here, two days ago. I've been constantly planning, constantly worrying, constantly bracing for whatever comes next. If I keep going like this, I'll probably collapse before I ever make it past the gates.
Too much has happened, I almost died today. I want to rest... I need to rest.
So, fine. The plan can wait until tomorrow—or the day after. The ring isn't going anywhere, and I still have some time. I can't do much if I'm too exhausted to even think straight anyway.
For now, I just want to shut my eyes and pretend none of this exists. Not for long. Just long enough for my head to stop feeling like it's packed with lead.
I sink deeper into the chair, let out a sigh, and let the thought of escape drift quietly into the background. Sleep, for tonight, feels like the smarter move.