[Lifespan Remaining: 30 days, 12 hours, 31 minutes.]
Luckily, nothing much happened on the morning of the next day.
Noct had sent Noelle with the merchant to make sure the letters were delivered safely.
Unfortunately, that meant Noct had to bear the brunt of everything that came with the preparation of his birthday on his own.
Without Noelle to push his wheelchair, Noct decided to reveal that he was a bit better by walking around the main manor instead.
Even before the birthday party, the family members were expected to greet whichever guests decided to come early to make a good impression—mostly to Vivienne and Faust.
Which also meant Noct had to be there to greet them.
And it could only be described as…annoying.
It really was less of a “birthday” and more of an “early funeral”.
It was even more solidified by the fact that there was a gigantic coffin right in the middle of the venue, tastefully prepared for the body everyone expected to carry out before the sun rose.
‘How thoughtful…’
Guests came bearing gifts, but instead of going to the actual birthday boy, they all went to Vivienne.
A consolation gift, of sorts, to mourn the death of the House’s youngest son.
Everyone had arrived expecting Noct to have one foot in the grave.
But the fact that he was standing before them only seemed to make them more uncomfortable.
Some felt it more than others, but the ones who felt it the most…were the party organizers themselves.
“You seem to be feeling much better, little brother.” Faust approached with a cordial smile.
“I’ve heard that those at death’s door sometimes experience one final burst of vigor. Maybe that’s why you seem so energetic today?”
“I wonder if that’s true,” Noct replied, offering a courteous nod to another passing guest.
Then he looked back at Faust.
“But shouldn’t you be happy to see me so energetic, Brother?”
“I wonder if that’s true. Well I am pretty energetic after having drank that Ambrosia,” Noct replied, offering a courteous nod to another passing guest.
Then he looked back at Faust.
“But shouldn’t you be happy to see me so energetic, Brother?”
Faust’s smile dropped a tad, but upon realizing the other guests were watching, he replied quickly.
“Of course I am, having our prodigy in high spirits puts my heart at ease.”
“That’s a relief,” Noct shot a smile back.
“For a moment, I almost thought you were disappointed? Sorry if I misinterpreted it, I’ve been bedridden all this time after all.”
Faust offered no reply.
He merely turned and walked away, though even from across the hall, Noct could still feel his hostility.
‘How frightening…’
Noct greeted the next guest as though nothing had happened.
The tedious procession continued until the last few carriages had arrived and evening finally settled over the estate.
By then, the manor’s grand hall had filled with all types of important guests.
At last, Noct’s eighteenth-birthday celebration officially began.
The atmosphere was strange.
Even though they knew he was eventually going to die, everyone seemed happy to get a chance to meet each other and scheme.
It was more like a celebration for those in Vivienne’s faction.
Once Noct died, the late Ophelia’s branch would have no male heir to challenge Vivienne’s eldest.
He would then go on to become the undisputed heir, and eventually…
‘Its next duke.’
Noct stared through the window looking down to the party, sighing softly before turning back to the situation at hand.
By tradition, each visiting household would be invited upstairs to a private reception room, where they could personally present their gifts and speak with the host family away from the rest of the guests.
“What are you looking at, Noct?” the First Lady asked him.
She wore a bright red dress, appropriate with her arrogant and flambouyant expression—a gambler who knew they were going to win.
“Nothing, Lady Vivienne.”
The choice of wording seemed to have struck a nerve.
She instantly voiced her complains.
“That’s Mother to you.”
The First Lady turned toward the curtains, where a dark figure was sitting behind.
The figure reached for what looked like a cup, bringing it to their lips before taking a sip.
“Amon, tell him,” Vivienne demanded.
“Ophelia passed away for years already, yet he still insists on treating me with such disrespect.”
Amon de Arcadia, the current Duke of Arcadia, and Noct de Arcadia’s father.
But from what Noct remembered, Amon placed merit above all else.
House Arcadia had never entrusted its future to something as arbitrary as birth order, as evident by the five organized heir structure.
Every eligible child competed for the title, and the only one who proved themselves most capable would inherit it.
Simple as that.
Amon himself was no exception.
Despite being the third son of the previous duke, he had fought his way past both of his elder brothers to become the patriarch.
His talent in magic as well as advancing through his Class Sequences quickly was a great boon, and since then, he had expected his children to do the same.
Frankly, the man didn’t give a damn which of his wives gathered the larger faction.
He did not care which of his sons undermined the others.
As long as they did not damage the House’s reputation in the process, Amon regarded their struggle as something natural.
Necessary, even.
The Duke remained behind the curtain, lowering his cup.
“Why are you asking me? I have no business with that?”
“Because he—”
“If you wish for Noct to regard you as his mother,” Amon continued indifferently.
“Then convince him yourself. And from your recent actions, it seems that’s not going too well.”
Noct wanted to smirk at his “mother’s” souring face as she looked away.
But almost as soon as he did, Amon’s voice rang out.
“I haven’t seen you in a long time, Noct. You seem to be doing a lot better.”
“I’ve been fortunate.”
“So it would seem.”
Amon took another sip from his cup, sighing softly as he pulled away after.
“Perhaps…inviting so many people tonight was premature after all.”
A chill ran down Noct’s spine.
‘Shit…does he know?’
“Know what?” Amon asked.
Noct’s expression nearly slipped.
Had he said that aloud?
No.
Amon was simply watching him, and seemed to have come to a conclusion.
Though it wouldn’t have been strange if a mage as powerful as Amon possessed a mind-reading spell.
“Nothing,” Noct answered.
“I’m merely grateful that so many people wished to celebrate my birthday.”
“Celebrate?” His gaze drifted toward the window and the crowded hall below.
“Is that what you believe they came here to do?”
Yet as he looked at the father he had not seen once in all the memories he inherited, a question slipped from his mouth before he could stop it.
“Why didn’t you come to see me all these years?”
Vivienne paused with her cup halfway to her lips.
Even she seemed apprehensive about how Amon might respond.
Even behind the curtain, Noct could feel the patriarch making eye-contact with him.
Then, a noise echoed inside his head.
“Perhaps…I should’ve.”
Before Noct could process either the answer or the manner in which it had been delivered, Amon’s silhouette shifted, as though he intended to say something more.
But a knock sounded at the door.
Knock—!
Knock—!
“Your Grace,” a servant called from the other side.
“Count Melfissa has arrived with his family.”
“Let them in.”
The doors opened before Noct could question his father any further.
Amon withdrew behind his usual indifference, and just like that, their conversation was over.
And the first private reception officially began.