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

The next morning.

The air in the capital feels alive. From the shadowed corners of its narrowest alleys to the gilded balconies of the noble district, everything is in motion.

In the Noble's District...

Tailors work furiously under candlelight, adding the last silver threads to gowns and fastening jeweled clasps on embroidered doublets.

Assistants scurry between rooms with boxes of rare perfumes, imported silks and accessories.

Servants rush between estates.

Polishing carriages until they gleam. Adjusting the harnesses on proud steeds. Carrying instructions from one household to another.

The mansions themselves seemed to join in the preparations.

Lanterns strung along balconies.

Wards refreshed to impress guests.

And all done with just enough flair to outshine the neighbors.

In the Merchant Quarters...

Market stalls are draped in bright fabrics and bursting with goods.

Bottles of fine wine from the southern vineyards. Crates of spiced fruits. Boxes of imported jewels.

Street hawkers call out their wares.

Pastries shaped like crowns. Polished miniatures of the palace. Cheap trinkets promising "good fortune for the night."

Artisans hammer the final touches on custom commissions.

Goldsmiths polished rings. Leatherworkers burnished new boots fit for the dance floor.

In the Commoner Streets...

Bards and street performers rehearse their acts, hoping to be noticed by a passing noble or royal envoy.

Children play mock parades pretending to be lords and ladies while their parents hang banners in the kingdom's colors from the windows.

Bakeries overflow with the smell of fresh bread and festival sweets, drawing long lines of both locals and visiting merchants.

In the Silvermine Estate…

Lucien could feel it. The air had changed.

Today was the King's birthday, a public holiday across the entire kingdom.

The estate bustled with energy. Servants moved briskly through the halls, checking and rechecking every item needed for the grand banquet.

By nightfall, the celebrations would begin and will continue for three days.

Lucien leaned back in his chair as his eyes drifted to the window. The streets outside were alive with motion. A tide of people was preparing for the evening ahead.

'It seems the king is well-liked…'

A sharp chirp broke his thoughts.

Peek landed neatly on the windowsill with a folded envelope clutched in his beak.

Lucien's eyes lit up.

Vivian's reply.

He had sent her a message earlier, inviting her to attend the celebration with him. Now he had his answer.

He patted Peek's head before taking the envelope. He directly broke the seal and scanned the contents.

Lucien sighed.

Vivian wouldn't be joining him tonight. She had already arranged to go with Lioren and a group of friends. Ellen will be coming with them too.

"Great," Lucien murmured.

Not in disappointment but in relief. A ducal household and their guests were untouchable and with Ellen by her side, Vivian would be safe.

He read the final line again.

'I'll see you in the castle, Lu.'

A small smile tugged at his lips.

Among the gifts he'd given her was a dress Elk had crafted specifically for this occasion.

He could already picture her in it.

•••

By afternoon, the noble procession toward the castle was already underway.

Ornate carriages gleamed in the sunlight.

Flying chariots cut through the air in elegant arcs.

Majestic mounts trotted proudly.

All moved toward the same destination.

The royal castle.

Inside the Silvermine Estate, preparations began for their own departure.

Edric and Maxim gave orders at the servants, practically dragging them toward Lucien.

He accepted their help only reluctantly but the staff's warmth made it easier.

They had grown accustomed to his overwhelming presence and Lucien treated them with kindness.

The servants worked with expert precision.

Straightening his hair.

Grooming his face.

Etc.

Lucien found himself… enjoying it.

'They're professionals,' he thought as skillful hands massaged away the last tension in his shoulders.

The sensation was almost therapeutic.

When they finished, he offered them a genuine thanks.

Lucien reached into his INVENTORY and drew out a set of clothes. It's something he had personally commissioned from Elk.

It was nothing like the layered coats and stiff suits favored by nobles.

His eyes softened with nostalgia as he studied it.

'Father used to wear this kind of clothes on special occasions back on Earth… Now it's my turn.'

A small smile tugged at his lips.

He stripped off his current clothes and slipped into the new ones.

A Barong Tagalog woven from Sun Thread, paired with trousers of Night Thread.

The barong's intricate embroidery was more than decorative. Runes and subtle magic circles had been sewn into the fabric, enhancing comfort and making it almost weightless.

Standing before the mirror, Lucien admired the striking contrast between the light, translucent top and the deep, shadowed pants.

It looked good. More importantly, it felt perfect.

"Nice," he murmured with satisfaction. "This is my OOTD."

He had no interest in suffering under the nobles' multi-layered, suffocating fashion. This outfit let him move freely, breathe easily and feel entirely at ease.

Lucien straightened his cuffs and took one last look in the mirror.

He was ready.

Finally, he called for the servants to give their opinions.

The moment they saw him, their eyes lit up.

The unfamiliar style caught their attention immediately yet it suited Lucien perfectly. Whoever had made it was clearly a master. The embroidery alone must have taken countless hours to complete.

They gave him cheerful thumbs-up and praised his style without hesitation.

Lucien rubbed the side of his nose. Half-embarrassed but pleased by their genuine admiration.

He looked outside. The sun was already dipping low.

It was time to leave.

When Edric and Maxim caught sight of him, their own eyes brightened. One look told them his garb was far from ordinary.

Maxim's gaze lingered on the embroidery. His expression sharpened when he noticed the unfamiliar runes.

Edric, on the other hand, focused on how comfortable it looked and on the faint traces of mana woven into the threads.

"Nephew, that looks comfortable," Edric said with a booming laugh.

He patted Lucien on the shoulder.

"Now I feel like an idiot for wearing all these layers GAHAHA!"

His hand lingered for a moment. The smoothness of the fabric surprised him.

"No wonder you refused to have other clothes made. You must introduce me to this master tailor, nephew GAHAHA!"

Lucien smirked. "Visit my territory next time, Uncle Ed. She's the best tailor I know."

Still chuckling, the three of them boarded the Wind Chariot and set off toward the castle.

•••

The castle walls loomed into view as they drew nearer.

Lucien found himself staring, unable to tear his gaze away. He'd seen grand structures before but this… this was something else entirely.

The castle was massive. It was so vast that it seemed to swallow the horizon. Edric had once said it was larger than some cities and now Lucien saw the truth of it.

It rose above the waking city like a mountain of white stone. Its walls glowed gold in the light of the setting sun.

Tall spires reached toward the heavens. Their peaks were crowned with bright banners that snapped and danced in the breeze.

The stained-glass windows glimmered like jewels, scattering soft reds and blues across the walls. At the gates, the steps shone as if they had been scrubbed a dozen times over.

The guards stood straight and proud in polished armor. Their spears were crowned with fluttering pennants.

Beyond the gates, the courtyard welcomed visitors with the sound of bubbling fountains and the soft trill of birds. The air was laced with the perfume of the royal gardens.

Fresh.

Warm.

Intoxicating.

Every arch and every stone carried pride as if the entire castle itself was holding its breath in celebration of its king's birthday.

After showing their Family Seal, they passed through the gates and into the courtyard.

Ahead, a long procession had already formed.

Lucien, Edric and Maxim moved to join the line, taking their place toward the back.

Lucien couldn't help but let his gaze wander.

His eyes glimmered as he took in the details. The castle wasn't some gaudy display of wealth.

It was a fortress first. Beautiful second.

Every line of its design spoke of strength while its understated elegance carried the authority of the Royal Family.

He shifted his attention to the front.

The line was moving quickly, bringing them closer to the massive entrance.

That's when Lucien noticed something.

The nobles ahead wore medals at their sides.

They were silent boasts of connection and influence.

Lucien's lips curved in thought.

'Not a bad idea.'

He reached into his INVENTORY and began fastening his own medals to his trouser one by one.

Surprisingly, they didn't weigh him down... likely another subtle blessing from Elk's enchantments. When he was done, satisfaction settled over him.

With every step, the medals chimed softly, producing a melodic clink that was oddly pleasing to the ear.

But then… his attention shifted.

So did Edric's and Maxim's.

Up ahead near the entrance, stood three familiar figures.

Magnus, Dorian and Thornel.

Edric let out a low snort.

Maxim's eyes narrowed.

The two casually stepped to the side, positioning themselves with a clear view of the trio ahead.

"Oh-ho… let's watch the fun," Edric murmured as a mischievous grin curled his lips.

To pass through the castle's main entrance, every guest had to present their family seal. No exceptions.

And Edric knew exactly where the Golddust Seal was... still in Lucien's possession.

Magnus turned his head as if sensing their gaze. His eyes landed on Edric and the two locked stares.

Silence.

In that quiet moment, their expressions didn't change but their eyes told another story.

An unspoken clash between long-standing rivals. There was a sharpness there as if neither would be the first to look away.

Dorian's attention shifted to Maxim, attempting the same unyielding stare. Maxim didn't bother engaging. He simply dismissed him with a glance which made Dorian's jaw tighten in frustration.

As for Thornel… he couldn't meet Lucien's eyes. The moment their gazes almost touched, he flinched away... as if dragged back into some unconscious memory.

But then…

It was the Golddust family's turn to approach the gates.

The group watched intently... then froze.

Magnus stepped forward… and presented the Golddust Seal.

Lucien's eyes narrowed.

Edric's brow twitched.

The guards examined it, nodded... and stepped aside.

The Herald's voice rang out across the courtyard, announcing the Golddust family's arrival.

Moments later, Magnus, Dorian and Thornel disappeared past the towering entrance.

Edric's expression didn't shift but a flicker of surprise passed through his eyes. As they returned to their place in line, he glanced briefly at Maxim and Lucien.

Maxim was the first to break the silence.

"It's fake," he said flatly. "Minor differences from the real one… just like that fake dungeon wall we saw."

The implication sank in.

Their faces darkened.

A perfect imitation of the Golddust Seal... made so quickly.

'It must be connected to that old man…'

Finally, their turn came.

Edric stepped forward, presenting the Silvermine Seal with Maxim beside him.

Lucien followed, producing the Lootwell Seal and stating that he was the Baron of Lootwell.

Moments later, the Herald's voice boomed.

"Please welcome the arrival of Marquis Edric Silvermine and Sir Maxim Silvermine and also... Baron Lucien Lootwell!"

A swell of fine music followed as if the notes themselves were parting the crowd in welcome.

The trio advanced. Edric and Maxim flanked Lucien like guards.

Heads turned instantly.

Silvermine was a name everyone recognized.

But Lucien Lootwell?

Murmurs rippled through the gathered nobles.

Even those who prided themselves on knowing every household head in the Kingdom looked puzzled. None could place the name.

In truth, Maxim had already dispatched a messenger to update the Noble Register upon their arrival in the capital. But the old version was all most people had seen. Lucien's official ascension to head of Lootwell was far too recent for gossip to have caught up.

And so, all eyes fixed on him.

Lucien did not shrink from the attention.

His bearing was calm.

His gaze steady.

The garb he wore was unlike anything in the capital. An elegant blend of light and dark that fit him perfectly, carrying both comfort and authority.

The contrast of colors.

The way the fabric moved with him.

It all spoke of someone who belonged here yet stood apart.

Silence followed in his wake.

The Silvermine brothers moved as if to shield him.

Lucien's stride carried the weight of confidence. And his aura was terrifying...

But then...

Clang! Clang!

The sharp metallic chime rang with every footfall, drawing startled glances.

When eyes fell on the source, the hall seemed to still.

Medals. A lot of them! They are the symbol of high favor and powerful connections.

Those who had been proudly displaying their own tokens earlier faltered. Their pride dissolved into uneasiness.

Lesser nobles stared with open admiration.

'So young… and yet so well-connected.'

Lucien ignored them all.

His gaze wandered upward, drinking in the interior.

The castle's halls glowed with the deep gold of sunset. Light poured through soaring windows, scattering over polished marble floors.

Silk banners and garlands draped from towering pillars and the air was warm with the mingled scents of fresh blooms.

It was… magnificent.

Before long, nobles began drifting toward them.

One after another.

Edric and Maxim greeted each warmly. Their manners were polished to perfection. But they never failed to gesture toward Lucien.

"Baron Lucien Lootwell," they would say and suddenly all eyes shifted to him.

Introduction followed introduction.

Names.

Titles.

Polite smiles.

It was a relentless parade.

Before Lucien realized it, he was the center of a tightening circle.

Silks brushed against him.

Jeweled hands reached to shake his.

And questions piled in faster than he could answer.

He felt the weight of every gaze.

Assessing.

Measuring.

Curious.

And though he kept his expression composed... Inwardly, the sheer volume of attention was… overwhelming.

This was the one duty of nobility Lucien truly despised.

Socializing with people he might never meet again.

Exchanging smiles that meant nothing.

Trading honeyed words that concealed sharper intentions.

It was a game of masks and he had no patience for it.

With a sigh, he offered a polite excuse and stepped away from the crowd.