Overwhelming Firepower

When Lucen woke up, he was slightly disappointed that there was no third cutscene. As he was getting ready to head out and tell the others they were going back to Ironhold today, someone knocked on his door.

”Enter.”

The moment the door opened, a maid stepped inside and bowed politely. ”Excuse me, Young lord, a letter has arrived for you.”

”A letter?”

”It’s an invitation from the young lady of the Crowlorne. She’s inviting the young master to morning tea.”

Lucen stared at the invitation in the maid’s hand. Lysette Crowlorne, the future spymaster. Despite being a little wary of her, Lucen understood that based on what he had seen in the game and in this reality, Lyestte should be a good person.

There was also the fact that he found it a bit interesting talking to her and gaining more information since she was one of the most informed people in the city.

”Morning tea, was it?”

”Yes, young lord.”

Despite being the heir of the Iron Duke, there were only a few times he felt like a noble. Most of the time, more than being the son of a Duke, he felt more like being the son of a general.

’I guess doing a few noble things would be interesting. There’s no hurry to head back home anyway.’

”Very well. Please tell her I’ll attend,” Lucen said. The maid bowed again and stepped out. Once the door closed, Lucen let out a small sigh and stretched his arms.

”Morning tea, I wonder how that would go? The only thing I can think about when I hear about morning tea is what the stereotype of the British do in my past life. Whatever, I’ll just wing it, and if that doesn’t work, I still have Acting Adept.”

He vaguely remembered his classmates back in his past life joking about proper British etiquette, complete with exaggerated accents.

If someone saw him now, standing in a duke’s estate, being invited to morning tea, they would never believe this was the same guy who used to drink little water and more energy drinks than one should.

While Lucen was thinking he heard someone else knock on the door.

”Young Lord, may we enter?” It was the voice of the head butler of the estate.

”You may,” Lucen unconsciously responded.

The door opened wider, revealing the head butler leading a small procession of maids who moved with military precision.

Their steps were so synchronized, Lucen briefly wondered if they secretly trained in formation drills.

”What are you doing?” Lucen asked.

”Since the young lord is meeting the young lady of the Crowlorne house, he needs to present himself properly as the heir of the Thornehart household.”

Lucen stared at them. He saw that the maids were holding folded clothes in their hands. He then saw the assortment of grooming tools one maid was holding, including suspiciously sharp scissors.

’Oh, it’s that kind of thing. Hmph, if I were a normal reincarnated individual, this might have overwhelmed me, but I was Lucen Thornehart for more than a decade before I regained my past life’s memories.’

Lucen allowed the maids to change his outfit. Despite thinking he would be alright with it, he was still feeling a wee bit awkward.

”Young lord, please lift your arm.”

”Young lord, turn slightly.”

”Young lord, please do not move; we are adjusting the collar.”

One maid whisked away his old shirt. Another smoothed the new one over his shoulders. A third tightened the cuffs, while the fourth stepped back to check the symmetry. The head butler supervised like a battlefield commander, giving silent nods of approval.

As they were fixing him up, Lucen saw in the mirror how he looked. A deep charcoal vest layered over a crisp white shirt, the fabric clean and sharp.

The vest was embroidered with subtle silver threads shaped like stylized shields, almost invisible unless the light hit them just right. His trousers were a darker shade of gray, tailored enough to show form but not so tight that Lucen felt suffocated.

A thin cloak of muted navy settled over his shoulders, not long enough to be dramatic, but short and formal, held by a small brooch shaped like the Thornehart emblem.

Lucen blinked as he looked at himself in the mirror. Normally, with his silver hair and ruby-red eyes coupled with his trench coat, he would look cool, which was the way he wanted to look, but the current him actually looked handsome.

”... Wow, I now actually look like an actual noble.”

”But you are one, young lord.” The head butler commented on the side.

His hair, normally a little unruly from training and lack of caring, had been neatly combed and tied back with a dark ribbon. His bangs were trimmed just enough to frame his face without falling in his eyes. His boots had been polished until they practically glowed.

”I know that, but who knew I could look like it as well?”

The head butler gave a faint, approving smile. ”The young lord has always had the makings of a distinguished noble. Presentation simply highlights what is already there.”

After a few more finishing touches, Lucen was ready for that morning tea with Lysette. Of course, Sir Thalos came with him as his bodyguard.

He only brought Sir Thalos because bringing more than one makes it look like you don’t trust the security of the hostess.

***

Lysette was pacing back and forth in her room, waiting for Lucen to arrive. She doesn’t know why, but she feels very nervous right now.

It’s not like this was her first time having a one-on-one tea with a male. Still, for some reason, her heartbeat was so fast it was starting to irritate her. She then looked at the mirror to check if her dress was alright.

She wore a light sky-blue tea dress, its shade chosen deliberately to complement her deep blue eyes. The fabric was soft and airy, flowing gently with each of her steps, giving her the appearance of a wandering sunbeam.

The bodice was fitted with delicate, almost playful ruffles along the neckline, and her sleeves were short and puffed.

A thin white ribbon sash tied at her waist accentuated her figure just slightly, the bow resting neatly at her back.

The skirt flared lightly to her knees, layered subtly so it fluttered when she moved, making her look effortlessly graceful.

Her golden hair was parted neatly, with a few soft curls framing her cheeks. The rest was gathered half-up with a small silver hairpin shaped like a blooming flower, a gift from her mother.

It looked decorative, but the pin’s craftsmanship was sharp, both literally and figuratively, a quiet reflection of Lysette herself.

Tiny pearl-tipped earrings completed her look, catching glimmers of morning light whenever she tilted her head.

On her feet were polished white low-heeled shoes, perfect for moving gracefully across the garden courtyard without making a sound.

Altogether, she looked like a picture-book noble girl, warm, bright, harmless, exactly how she preferred people to see her.

’Did I perhaps underdress? Should I have gone for a gown or something?’ As she was deep in thought, someone knocked on her door.

”Milady, the Thornehart heir has arrived.”

Lysette froze. Her foot, mid-step, hovered over the floor before lowering with slow, deliberate control. Her nervous heartbeat instantly spiked to the point she swore even the maids outside could hear it.

”He’s… already here?”

She turned sharply to the mirror, inspecting every detail of her dress and hairpiece as if she might suddenly find a wrinkle that wasn’t there a moment ago.

”Calm down, Lysette Crowlorne,” she whispered to herself, pressing two fingers to her chest. ”This is nothing. Just a simple morning tea. You’ve done this countless times.”

Her breathing steadied. Her smile returned, soft, sweet, harmless. The perfect mask, the one everyone trusted.

The one that kept people from seeing how sharply her mind really worked. With her composure restored, Lysette stepped closer to the door.

”Please guide our guest to the garden,” she said, voice smooth and gentle. ”And prepare the tea and refreshments.”

”Yes, Milady,” the maid replied from the hallway.

Lysette waited until the footsteps faded down the corridor, then let her expression drop for a single, tiny second.

”Alright, time to go.”

She straightened her skirt, adjusted the angle of her silver hairpin, and smoothed down a rebellious curl.

Then, once her smile was flawlessly in place again, she opened the door and stepped out with light, elegant steps.

***

When Lysette arrived at the garden, she saw Lucen sitting in the garden pavilion. He wasn’t wearing his usual Thornefang trench coat, but something formal.

Lysette, seeing him looking like that for the first time, with the sunrise perfectly shining down on him, the beautiful fountain with lovely flowers as the background made it even worse for her.

Lysette’s breath hitched, just once, so quietly even she barely noticed. The formal attire didn’t just make him look noble; it made him look dangerous, in a refined way.

The beating of her heart that she was able to calm down before was now beating harder than before.

’Did I really underdress?’ As Lysette was about to back away and go change, it was too late; Lucen had already spotted her and waved his hand in her direction.

Despite the inner turmoil she was having, Lysette showed the perfect smile as she waved back and walked towards him.

Lysette approached with all the grace expected of a noble lady, even if her heart was trying to escape through her ribs.

Lucen smiled politely, unaware of the chaos he’d just triggered in her chest.

”Good morning, Lady Lysette,” he greeted calmly.

”Good morning, Sir Lucen,” she managed to speak, betraying none of her panic.

And just like that, their morning tea began, awkward, quiet, and already far more complicated than expected.