"Huh?"
The notification makes him sit up from his laying position. He taps his head as if that will summon the voice again.
"Say that again. What do you mean by her description? I already know her, don’t I?"
He counts on his fingers.
"She is Clara. She looks beautiful, she is kind, sometimes cheeky and dangerous too. And... she is hot."
[...]
[Host. Description means the ’Objective Facts’ about Clara, not your subjective and biased opinion.]
He brings his hand down and asks.
"Is it just me, or did you just try to patronize me right now?"
[You guessed it right.]
"...Honest." He nods appreciatively while trying to hide his fist behind his back. After a moment, he exhales.
"Okay. Open that description then. Should I find a pen to write it down?"
[You have low standards for me. Just open your eyes wide and stare at the air in front of you.]
"Stare at the air? How..." He murmurs confusedly. Just as he does so, a ting echoes in his mind, followed by a sharp, piercing red glow against his eyes.
"Ahouu! Bright! Too bright! Lower the brightness!"
The light dims down to a faint crimson glow and reveals a rectangular interface in front of him. The screen glows just enough to be comfortably seen now.
"Woah! What is this!?" He stares at the screen and immediately reaches out to touch it. His hand passes through it smoothly without any resistance, but the screen stays.
[Do you not know about the system? You must have read a comic or novel in your world mentioning this.]
"Ah...! Well, my friend suggested it once, but it just always stayed in the bookmark. I forgot to read it later." He rubs the back of his head, shaking his head helplessly, though his gaze finally reaches the content on the screen.
[It doesn’t matter, Host. It’s not hard to understand this. Anyhow, I am merely taking this form to show you the information for efficiency purposes. I can take other forms too, if this doesn’t work out.]
He doesn’t hear the words anymore. His gaze sticks to the screen as it shows the big heading ’Clara’s Description’ at the top, followed by numerous points down below.
Clara’s Description:
Name - Clara Ashford(F)
Age - 24
Height - 5’7
Ability - Level 5 Swordswoman(Master)
Former family - Ashford
Relationship - Jack(Husband), Zane(Integration in-progress), Unknown
History - A famous family’s daughter. The oldest of the siblings. Three years ago, left her family to marry Jack for love, when given the choice by her father. The house was the dowry her mother gave out of her worry
"This is..." His mouth hangs open. He closes it with his hand. He looks over the information again and again, but the information remains concrete and unchanged.
The screen vanishes as his back hits the mattress. He caresses his leg slowly in sympathy while shaking his head.
"Don’t worry... You had to take the kick from that bastard, I feel you."
Suddenly, he jumps off the bed and points the finger at the space.
"She is a Level 5 Swordswoman!? That means I didn’t even have to fight there. She would have probably fought better than me there and would’ve even won the fight too, maybe!"
He crouches down slowly on the floor, resting his forehead between his knees while murmuring slowly.
"What’s happening? Why didn’t Jack tell her about the debt? She could’ve found some way, probably... Wait. Don’t tell me...
He leans back. One hand supports his weight, while the other strokes his chin slowly. He narrows his eyes.
"Was it because of... man’s pride?"
He shakes his head quickly at the assumption and hits his head for thinking like that.
"Stupid me! Pride definitely wouldn’t make him put Clara at stake. Not to mention... she would have killed him for playing with her... hm?"
A thought occurs to him just as he says that. He looks up, then down, and murmurs.
"What if this was the very reason he put her at stake...? She is strong, after all. How would those two bastards have harmed her when they couldn’t even escape my punches properly?"
Standing up, he moves. Starting from the drawers, then searching through the wardrobe. He parts the clothes aside, looking for any sign of it. Then, he leans down to peek under the bed but still finds nothing.
A brief moment of frustration appears on his face.
"Is there even anything related to that debt here!?
With a huff, he turns around and stomps toward the window. He finds the window sill as he leans forward and takes a look down. Just then, his fingers twitch against the sill instinctively.
The instinctual response came similar to the ones he experienced in this body until now.
Without wasting time, he searches. His hands fumble against the window frame, then outside against the wall, and finally against the sill again.
His thumb pauses at the small hole at the lock. He pokes at it several times, then squints his eyes to look inside.
After a moment, he holds an extremely rolled paper, covered in polythene. Taking off the polythene, he unfolds the paper quickly.
The details on the paper, or to be specific, a letter, come into view. He smiles, then giggles before finally letting out a full-blown chuckle.
"So, this is it..."
He flicks the paper once.
"That’s where the debt went."
A stylish font starts the letter, and then the rest of the body holds the acknowledgement of an admission.
"An Academy..." He folds the paper again and tucks it against the waistband of his underwear, then covers it with his shirt. "The Silverfang Citadel."
Although this new information doesn’t solve his problem of the debt, it does answer some of the really important questions he had earlier.
As he limps toward the door, his mind races to organise the information he gained just now.
Looking at that symbol on the letter and my own experience in this body, this academy should teach swordsmanship, otherwise what would Jack do there?
With how this letter was hidden, it is plausible that this academy might be related to his debt. It would make sense if Jack took the loan to take admission in this academy.
The stairs creak under his feet as he steps down, and the lower floor enters his view.
"I must find out about this academy."