Ambrose noticed Marcus’s crestfallen expression and the guilt weighing on his shoulders. With a gentle smile that masked his internal exasperation, he spoke:
"Actually, I did feel a little change." The words had their intended effect, as Marcus’s eyes lifted with renewed interest, hope beginning to replace his earlier dejection.
The manipulation was subtle but effective, Ambrose noted with satisfaction. Sotis the truth needed a gentle adjustnt to serve a greater purpose, and seeing Marcus’s spirits lift a little confird he’d struck the right balance. He wondered if he could get so benefits if he pressed further but he quickly abandoned the idea. It was better to assure the protagonist first, as long as the regressor was motivated, he could leech off so benefits:
"You know, I’ve lived my entire life like this. Every breath, every mont defined by this weakness. And truthfully? The thought of that changing... it terrified ." Like hell it did. I’ve been desperately searching for ways to overco this since day one.
He paused, his voice growing softer but more certain. "But when you brought this gift, sothing changed. Not in my body, but in my mind. For the first ti, I actually imagined what it would be like to be different. You gave sothing more valuable than physical strength – you gave the courage to face that possibility." God, this is embarrassing. The things I do for this protagonist’s emotional state...
Ambrose’s fingers traced the collar thoughtfully, while internally cringing at his own performance. "Even though it didn’t work, I’m grateful. Because now I understand – I can’t keep using this weakness as an excuse to do nothing, to just wait and hope. If... when the day cos that these chains break, I don’t want to still be trapped by the habits of a cripple. I need to start changing now, to find my own path forward." Please let this be enough. I can’t keep spouting these inspirational speeches.
"The young master is not a cripple!" Hualing interjected. I know that already so will you just shut up! Can’t you see what I’m doing here? He thought but didn’t dare voice it.
He looked directly at Marcus, his eyes showing a quiet determination while his mind scread in protest. "Will you help with that? Not just to beco stronger, but to beco soone worthy of strength when it finally cos?" So corny. Soone please find this man a heroine – I can’t keep playing this role.
A/N: …
To his relief, he could see the light returning to Marcus’s eyes. Finally, Now please go find yourself a love interest and leave the emotional support to them.
…
As Ambrose delivered his heartfelt speech, Marcus found himself deeply moved, his earlier guilt transforming into sothing more profound. I had no idea the young master was carrying such thoughts, he reflected, studying Ambrose’s delicate features with new understanding.
Every word seed to reshape Marcus’s perception of nobility. Despite his previous revelations about Ambrose being different from other nobles, he realized he’d still been viewing the young master through a simplified lens. He’d seen the perfect heir, the brilliant strategist who always seed to know exactly what to do. But now, watching Ambrose speak of his fears and determination, Marcus recognized the complexity he’d overlooked.
He always looks so perfect, so composed, Marcus thought, recalling how effortlessly Ambrose seed to handle every situation. Yet here he is, struggling with his own battles, carrying his own burdens. The realization made the young master seem both more human and more admirable – not just born to his position, but actively working to be worthy of it despite his limitations.
A deep sense of determination welled up within Marcus. If the young master can face his weaknesses with such resolve, then I too must work harder. His earlier guilt about the collar’s failure transford into renewed purpose. The young master wasn’t just soone to serve or protect – he was soone to learn from.
As he t Ambrose’s steady gaze, Marcus felt his resolve crystallize. He would help the young master find this new path, not just out of pity or gratitude, but because watching Ambrose strive to overco his limitations inspired Marcus to face his own challenges with equal courage.
A/N - I’m tired of this, let’s move on
…
Finally alone in his chamber, Ambrose sank into his reading chair with a weary sigh. The afternoon sun filtered through tall windows, casting long shadows across the polished floor. While Marcus and Hualing’s devotion touched him, their intense concern had beco almost suffocating. It had taken considerable effort – and no small amount of verbal maneuvering – to convince them he needed rest rather than constant supervision.
His thoughts drifted to his fellow intelligence-types: Adelaide and ihua. Marcus had updated him on Adelaide’s activities, but ihua remained sothing of a mystery. A thoughtful frown creased his brow as he considered his fellow transmigrator. She clearly possessed knowledge of the story unlike him. He guessed she had also been pulled into the story by the book, the only difference between them was that she had probably read the book unlike him. Her composed deanor during the crisis suggested she might understand even more than Marcus, their resident regressor.
He wondered if he should pay her a visit and see if he could gain so benefits, just like with Marcus. The prospect of gaining valuable information from another transmigrator was tempting, but Ambrose quickly tempered his enthusiasm with caution. Although he sowhat understood Marcus, he knew nothing of ihua’s true character or the extent of her knowledge. Although he didn’t believe that the story she had read included the current version of him, he didn’t want to take chances. At least not without so preparation. It was precisely this uncertainty that had stayed his hand from revealing their secrets, both Marcus and ihua.
His lips curved into a wry smile as he considered the psychology at play. Both regressors and transmigrators drew strength from feeling special – from believing they could change fate through their unique knowledge. Breaking that illusion by revealing their secret would only breed paranoia and uncertainty. Better to let them maintain that sense of agency, that belief in their ability to shape destiny. Marcus would continue to believe in his own regression while ihua believed in her own knowledge of the story. As for him, he’d just leech off any benefits that fell off their pockets.
A darker thought crept in: what if soone else watched him with the sa calculating restraint? What if his own sense of control was rely another’s careful construction? Ambrose quickly dismissed this line of thinking – such taphysical spirals would lead nowhere productive.
Instead, he turned his attention to sothing that had been nagging at his mind, sothing he’d been subconsciously avoiding until now. The system’s latest tip floated before his eyes:
[Tip: "You don’t need to be smarter - you just need to think faster." - War Goddess Celestia]
His mind circled back to his grandmother’s cryptic words from their encounter. She had claid to know what he would say without reading his mind, yet later stated she didn’t know what he was saying. He wondered if she had so ti manipulation powers that helped her predict the future, but that theory didn’t align with her known space-type abilities, it also didn’t explain why she couldn’t predict his last question.
The answer, Ambrose realized, must lie with his ancestor Rothschild, the apparent architect of the system. He is also a known ti user. He theorized that Rothschild could predict what he was going to ask and gave his grandma the script, as for the last question, it was probably a secret so he didn’t include it in the script. But how was Rothschild still alive, or even his grandma? Was he simply manipulating ti to make them appear?
But as he pondered Rothschild’s role, a new possibility erged – one that would explain why they were still there even though they were already dead. What if the white space was a simulation? 1
Not in the conventional sense of computers and programming, but sothing far more sophisticated: a simulation running on the ultimate processor – Rothschild’s own consciousness.
This theory elegantly explained several mysteries. Rothschild was known as the First Hero, with his attainnts in ti abilities, it wouldn’t be hard for him to simulate the white expanse and putting so NPCs in it, it also wouldn’t be hard for him to know exactly what questions Ambrose would ask.
The murky void where Ambrose always began could represent his own ntal space, while the pristine white expanse belonged to Rothschild’s more evolved consciousness. But this raised another question: how could a dead ancestor maintain such a complex simulation? Unless... perhaps Rothschild wasn’t truly dead in the conventional sense.
Ambrose’s thoughts raced as he developed the theory further. Perhaps he had inherited not just the system, but a fragnt of Rothschild’s will itself. His grandmother’s advice to "think faster" suddenly took on new aning – she wasn’t talking about re ntal speed, but about elevating his own ntal simulation to match Rothschild’s white expanse.
If he could raise his murky void to the sa level as the white space, perhaps the two simulations would achieve so sort of resonance or balance. Such a convergence might unlock sothing profound – immortality, transcendence, revival of the first hero, or sothing beyond his current comprehension. The exact nature of this potential revelation remained unclear, but the path forward crystallized in his mind: he needed to enhance his own ntal processing power. In simpler terms, as his grandmother had said, he needed to think faster.
A/N - Do you guys like it when Ambrose does these sessions where he just theorizes everything, I personally really like them. It feels like he’s really alive
A/N - Let him cook
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