100% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full?

His suspicion was spot on. He was not a Lootwell.

Lucien's throat went dry.

The parents who had raised him.

The ones who gave him their name and who treated him as their own.

They had never been his parents by blood yet they had given him everything that mattered.

And in truth, Lucien didn't care.

Blood alone never made someone a parent. One could share blood and still fail as family.

What he had with them had been real.

Every smile.

Every hardship.

Every moment.

That was enough.

Lucien treated them as his real parents.

But... They were no longer in this world.

...

Still, the truth still pressed heavily on him. His heart wavered under the weight of it all.

His real parents...

Luke and Cienna.

They, too, had left this world... before he could even see their faces.

'Cruel. This world is too cruel.'

Lucien exhaled slowly.

At last, the puzzle pieces were falling into place.

The Thousand-Skill Luke... of course. That explained the countless skills Luke possessed. He must have been the real owner of Skillpedia.

And Cienna... she had to be the one bound to the Magic Book.

'So that's why the system said both Skillpedia and Magic Book were inherited... They came from them.'

But the revelations only gave rise to more questions.

Why and how had his real parents passed these cheats down to him?

How could people with such power possibly have died?

And was it somehow connected to his birth without mana vessels?

The more he thought, the more the questions multiplied, clouding his mind.

A sudden thought struck him. His parents... could they have been reincarnators like him?

Sebas had once slipped... using a term from the modern world.

If Sebas knew such things... then he must have known them.

Lucien's eyes sharpened.

'Right. Sebas must know something. I have to ask him.'

...

From the outside, Lucien must have looked strange.

He sat frozen in his chair.

Face pale.

Eyes distant.

Whatever Cielius had told him had clearly shaken him, leaving him looking overwhelmed.

"Nephew, are you alright?" Edric asked in genuine concern.

Lucien forced a small nod. "I'm okay, Uncle Ed. Just... feeling under the weather."

"GAHAHA! So even a little villain like you has his weak moments, eh?" Edric said, trying to lift his spirits.

Lucien managed a faint chuckle.

Then as though gathering his courage, he turned back to Cielius. His voice was quiet but firm as if he had already made up his mind.

"Grandpa... can I keep calling you that?"

Cielius blinked, taken aback.

He studied Lucien's conflicted face. He saw both hesitation and yearning in his eyes.

And strangely, he didn't find it odd at all. Instead, a warmth stirred in his chest.

For a fleeting moment, he thought of the past. Of the family he had lost.

"Of course, boy," Cielius said with a hearty laugh. "You may call me Grandpa Ciel from now on. Hah... if my daughter had lived, her child would be about your age by now. Wait... come to think of it, I haven't even heard your name yet."

Lucien drew in a breath then answered clearly.

"My name is Lu...cien... Lucien Lootwell."

The moment the name left Lucien's lips, Cielius jolted upright. His chair scraped harshly against the floor and it creaked under the sudden movement.

A few heads turned their way in curiosity but quickly looked away again. No one dared linger on Cielius for long.

He stood frozen.

His lips parted.

His voice broke the silence in a trembling whisper.

"Lu...Cien... you say?"

His body shook as though struck by lightning. He tried to dismiss it, muttering inwardly...

'Coincidence... it must be coincidence.'

But when he looked at Lucien again, doubt turned into dread.

He summoned the image of his daughter in his mind then compared it to the young man before him. The longer he looked, the more undeniable it became.

The eyes.

The nose.

The color of his hair.

Piece by piece, the resemblance cut through him like a blade.

Now it was Cielius's turn to fall silent.

His mouth hung open, unable to form words.

Edric, Maxim and Ellen exchanged bewildered glances.

These two were normally the calmest and most composed figures in any hall... but now they were acting utterly out of character.

To them, it was almost as if Lucien and Cielius were speaking some secret language of the mind.

What was happening between them? Not even they could guess.

Lucien sat uncharacteristically quiet.

And Cielius was trembling like a man who had just seen a ghost.

...

Lucien realized Cielius had caught on. The old man's eyes were searching him, trembling with unspoken recognition.

So Lucien gave him a warm smile and a small, deliberate nod.

Cielius's eyes lit up at once. No words were needed between them anymore.

But both knew this was not the time for family reunions.

Not here.

Not with so many eyes and ears watching.

And deep inside, Lucien understood.

His real parents' deaths could not have been simple.

Killing two people blessed with cheats? That was no feat for ordinary men.

Cielius understood it too. He had already learned that lesson in the cruelest way. He would not let history repeat itself.

His expression hardened.

Now was not the time.

Not when the enemy remained in the shadows.

So instead, he threw back his head and roared with laughter.

"GAHAHA! What luck! I came here for a party and instead I gained a grandson! Disciple, isn't it wonderful?! GAHAHA!"

The laughter was booming, ambiguous, impossible to interpret.

Edric, Maxim, and Ellen froze in shock.

Since Cienna's disappearance, none of them had ever seen the old man laugh like this. His eyes were even watering from mirth.

It was as if decades of silence had cracked open all at once.

Finally, Cielius wiped at his eyes, still chuckling. "Please excuse me for a moment. I must take care of something. Ah, my grandson... I'll just wash up first."

Lucien nodded.

A quiet warmth spread through him. He could see the genuine expression on Cielius's face and it stirred something deep within him.

The old man too, seemed overwhelmed by the discovery.

Through his Divine Sense, Lucien caught it.

The shift in Cielius's aura. The dull tones had brightened, moving with new vitality like a flame reigniting after years of smoldering.

Lucien smiled faintly.

'Grandpa Ciel, huh...'

…

His gaze drifted toward Vivian and her circle of friends who were chatting happily about trivial things.

He shook his head slightly.

'It's not the right time to tell her yet. I'll wait until she graduates... Then, I'll pass the truth... and all of Lootwell into her hands.'

Vivian must have noticed his eyes on her because she turned and smiled.

"Brother, did you hear? My friends say this dress is so unique and pretty. Where did you buy it?"

Lucien chuckled. "Sis, you know who made it. Our barony's tailor, Elk. She's the best around. That dress was crafted just for you. No one could ever replicate it."

Gasps of interest rose from her companions and even a few nearby nobles pricked up their ears.

A tailor of such caliber hidden away in the borderlands? That was no small thing.

Suddenly, Lucien noticed something strange.

The round tables were thinning. Fewer people sat to dine while a line had quietly formed near the dais.

Then the voices reached him, echoing across the grand chamber.

The gift-giving for the King's birthday had begun.

Servants moved with practiced precision, guiding nobles forward and keeping order. One by one, treasures were presented.

"Your Majesty... From the deserts beyond the horizon, I bring sand that never cools. Still warm from the breath of a sleeping dragon."

"Your Majesty... I present a feather from the last storm phoenix. It's said to summon lightning at its bearer's command."

"Your Majesty... Here lies a mirror of starlight forged by the elves. It does not show the face but the truth hidden behind it."

Each offering was more dazzling than the last.

All were paraded forward as if the nobles were in a secret contest to outshine one another.

Some sought genuine honor. Others only to curry favor.

Yet through it all, the King's expression barely shifted.

He sat in calm majesty as though no treasure under heaven could stir his heart.

Still, he offered a small courteous smile and a word of thanks to each giver.

Meanwhile, the priceless gifts piled high in one corner of the hall, forming a glittering mountain of wealth that seemed meaningless before his throne.

"Nephew, have you prepared your gift?" Edric asked as the line slowly moved forward.

The truth was... Lucien hadn't.

At first, he thought of simply pulling some random drop from his INVENTORY but after watching the nobles present their dazzling treasures and seeing the King's indifferent expression, he realized such things weren't enough.

Instead, he turned to Edric.

"Yes, Uncle Ed. What gift did you bring?"

Edric chuckled.

"Haha, nothing too fancy. The King doesn't actually like those gaudy things. He prefers something practical. I brought a silver sword forged by my people."

Lucien nodded, finally understanding.

So the King wasn't the greedy materialistic type many nobles assumed. He valued usefulness over ornament.

"Come, let us join the line as well. I bet the King would enjoy the drinks you shared with us earlier. Why not present that? GAHAHA!" Edric suggested.

Lucien smiled faintly but as they moved forward, his attention was caught by someone ahead.

A man with familiar features. Not an exact resemblance but enough to spark a memory.

Curious, Lucien activated INSPECT.

Kyle Silkhand – Patriarch of the Silkhand Noblehouse.

Lucien's eyes narrowed, glowing slightly.

'Kael's father.'

Beside him stood a young woman.

Selene Silkhand – Heir Candidate of the Silkhand Noblehouse.

'Kael's sister.'

Lucien remembered Kael's story. The bitter fight with his father and the moment Selene secretly gave him a book on Space Magic spells.

But what struck him most was Kyle.

The old man did not carry the arrogance Lucien expected. His aura was kind, warm even but tinted with something else.

Regret.

Lucien exhaled quietly.

'So that's how it is… Perhaps he wasn't cruel, only too concerned about Kael's future. A father's worry twisted into conflict. The fight must've grown harsher than either side intended.'

Lucien's gaze softened.

'It's never easy to be a parent, I suppose.'

Selene felt a gaze on her back. When she turned, she caught Lucien's eyes.

"Ah, Baron," she said with a polite wave. Her lips curved into a faint smile. "Hello."

Lucien returned it gently. "Hi, sister. You must be Kael's sister, right?"

At the mention of the name, the older man beside her stiffened.

Earl Kyle Silkhand's head snapped toward Lucien. His expression suddenly tense, almost desperate.

"Baron…" His voice trembled. "Pleased to meet you. I am Earl Kyle Silkhand. Tell me… do you possibly know my child, Kaelen?"

Selene quickly placed a hand on her father's arm, steadying him.

"Forgive us, Baron. My brother hasn't returned home in years. Our parents worry for him deeply. Do you… perhaps know where Kael is?"

Lucien's smile softened.

"Yes. Kael has been in the border territories. He's helped us through difficult times. Stood bravely by our side when trouble came knocking. He's grown strong and his mastery of Space Magic is remarkable."

Earl Kyle's eyes glistened as he hung on every word, cherishing each fragment of news.

The thought that his son had succeeded being a merchant and teaching himself the very magic once thought beyond him... filled his heart with pride he could barely contain.

Selene let out a small chuckle, shaking her head in disbelief. "Brave, you say? I can't recall anyone ever calling my brother that…"

They laughed softly and the tension eased.

Lucien leaned in with a teasing grin.

"And, sister, let me tell you. Kael is also the best merchant I know. Humble but bold when it matters. He's my exclusive merchant now and we've been growing rich together."

Selene blinked, taken aback. Then with a sheepish smile, she turned to her father.

"I suppose I should confess this now… Kael has been sending us funds every month. I didn't tell you because I knew you would ask where it came from."

Kyle froze. His lips parted in stunned silence. A long breath left him, heavy with relief and regret all at once.

"…So my suspicions were right."

Selene lowered her head.

"I'm sorry for hiding it, Father."

Kyle shook his head, shoulders slumping.

"Forget it. What matters is he's alive… and doing well." He looked at Lucien. "Baron… may I perhaps visit your territory someday? Just to see him if fate allows?"

Lucien smiled.

"Please feel free, Earl. Kael is my friend and Kael's family is also my friend."

For a while, they talked... bridging the distance Kael had left behind.

But then—

A stir rippled from the front of the line.

Murmurs died.

Silence swallowed the grand hall.

Lucien tilted his head until the crowd parted enough for him to see.

One of the nobles had stepped forward.

Not with a chest.

Not with jewels.

Not with exotic beasts.

But with an easel and brush.

His hands moved at incredible speed, guided by a rare skill.

Paint bloomed on canvas like life itself, strokes forming flesh, robes, crown. The figure of the King emerged so vividly it was as though the man himself had stepped into the frame.

The crowd gasped. The realism was uncanny.

Every wrinkle.

Every shade of light caught perfectly.

And yet…

As the painting was lifted for all to see, another sound followed the awe. A low, collective intake of breath.

Because on that regal head gleaming under the painted moonlight... was something unmistakable.

A bald spot.

The musicians faltered mid-note.

Goblets froze halfway to lips.

Nobles stood stiff as statues.

The King's expression darkened. The corners of his mouth tightened as though he had just swallowed poison.

The silence was unbearable.