Cradled in a maid’s arms, Rowan rcer quietly pieced together why his parents had received an invitation that should never have reached them.
Two senior figures from different churches had personally appealed to the royal court to arrange work for Jack Barton. That kind of attention did not travel unnoticed. Soone like Duke Nigen would naturally assu Jack had deep connections to both sides, whether true or not.
So a minor municipal clerk’s na had found its way onto the guest list of one of the kingdom’s most exclusive gatherings.
The carriage rolled to a stop before towering iron gates and a palace-sized manor glowing with warm lamplight.
"We’ve arrived."
Inside, crystal chandeliers floated like captive stars above polished marble floors. Gold filigree traced the walls. Even the air slled expensive.
Rowan opened his eyes and took it all in.
The wealth gap here wasn’t subtle. It was violent.
Beckland was hailed as the most prosperous city in the world, yet most of its citizens lived in filth and desperation. Slums swallowed entire districts. Corpses were not uncommon in winter.
anwhile, a single teacup in this mansion could fund hundreds of laborers for months.
Nothing about that surprised him.
Even in his previous life, in a so-called modern civilization, inequality had never vanished. The poor could not imagine how the wealthy lived, and the wealthy had no reason to care.
"Madam, we’ll take care of the child. Please enjoy the ball."
A dignified middle-aged maid gently took Rowan from Chris’s arms and passed him to another attendant, who carried him toward a suite reserved specifically for children.
The maid hesitated briefly as she looked between Chris and Jack.
Families allowed to bring children to gatherings like this were usually royalty, top-tier nobility, or officials close to the heart of power.
These two were none of those.
Their clothes were modest. Their faces unfamiliar.
Yet the head butler had personally instructed her to treat them well.
So she obeyed.
Before Jack could even steady his nerves, a large figure erged from a sea of flattering nobles.
Duke Nigen himself.
Owner of vast territories. Leader of the Conservative Party. Elder brother to the sitting Pri Minister. The most powerful landholder in the kingdom outside the crown.
"Jack Barton," the duke said warmly. "Settling into your new position?"
"Yes, Your Grace. Very well. No complaints at all."
Jack nearly tripped over his words.
"Thank you... truly. Thank you for the opportunity."
Only after speaking did the implication sink in.
The favorable treatnt he’d received at City Hall hadn’t been random.
Duke Nigen smiled, pleased by Jack’s quick realization.
"Good. The kingdom needs capable people."
And that was the truth.
Both the Archbishop of the Church of Storms and the Archbishop of the Church of Darkness had independently approached the royal court and Duke Nigen, requesting special consideration for a clerk transferred from Tingen.
When two rival churches quietly pushed the sa na, it ant sothing.
Yet when Duke Nigen investigated, Jack Barton’s history was aggressively ordinary.
No noble lineage.
No secret patron.
No exceptional achievents.
Only one trivial note: Jack’s father had once worked for the Hall family.
Hardly remarkable.
That mystery was the sole reason Duke Nigen had added Jack’s na to the invitation list.
After eting him in person, the duke found nothing unusual.
So he moved on.
But the watching nobles did not.
If Duke Nigen personally acknowledged soone, that person’s future suddenly looked radiant.
Within minutes, mid-tier nobles and officials sward Jack and Chris with polite smiles and eager conversation.
From obscurity to centerpiece in a heartbeat.
Rowan, carried through the crowd, watched calmly.
The churches had played this well.
He felt a faint, unexpected flicker of approval.
He had no emotional attachnt to these two adults, but they were the biological parents of this body.
Their lives being easier suited him.
Eventually, when he no longer needed this identity, he would extract their genetic and soul imprints and create a new child to replace himself.
Clean. Seamless. No loose ends.
As Rowan was carried past a sweeping white marble staircase, a girl descending the steps caught his attention.
Blonde hair.
Blue eyes.
A beauty that felt effortless rather than cultivated.
Even surrounded by elite nobility, she shone.
Rowan recognized her instantly.
Justice.
Though the gray fog concealed faces, it could not hide the essence of a soul.
He had long morized the spiritual signatures of Justice, The Hanged Man, and The Sun.
Audrey Hall.
Daughter of Count Hall.
"The Brightest Gem of Beckland."
A true aristocrat.
Interestingly, Rowan’s fabricated identity brushed against hers in small ways. His grandfather had once worked for the Hall family. Jack’s closest friend in Beckland also served as one of their stewards.
A fragile thread, but a thread nonetheless.
Rowan was taken into the nursery and laid into a soft crib.
He closed his eyes.
Since acquiring vast amounts of occult knowledge, he stood on the edge of converting sealing techniques into functional magic.
One final step.
Once completed, he would return to Tingen and seal the evil god embryo inside his cousin’s womb.
Afterward, he could even harvest fragnts of knowledge from whatever entity stood behind that embryo.
Efficient.
But before his thoughts could deepen, a ssage brushed against his mind, carried through the gray fog.
Miles Reed.
"I’m at Duke Nigen’s ball."
"I encountered soone I strongly suspect is Zilingus."
"He’s disguised as Baron Gramir. His behavior doesn’t match past records."
"The inconsistencies reminded of Zilingus’s artifact that allows him to alter his appearance."
Rowan’s eyelids twitched.
So the ga had just beco more interesting.
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