All in Charisma (A LitRPG/Isekai Adventure)

Justin approached the gateway of the Corrin estate, where Charles awaited him.

"Ah, Mr. Talemaker! We've been expecting you."

Justin removed his top hat and placed it over his heart. "Good to be back, Charles."

For now, he kept the flower vase hidden in his pack; he wanted it to be a surprise, at least for the moment.

As the gate opened, Charles led him up the drive. Justin was becoming familiar with the well-manicured grounds. Learning about the family history from Alistair had given him a new perspective.

He took a deep breath, noting how the air felt fresher here, with a hint of evening jasmine as the sun sank in the west.

"Yes," he said to himself, "that's old money right there."

When he reached the porch, he touched Atlas's flank and gestured for the construct to wait before ascending the marble steps.

Marienne stood by the front door, a small smile on her face. "Good evening, Mr. Talemaker. Please come in."

He was ushered into the main atrium, where the curved stairway led to the second floor. A few other servants waited nearby, ready to assist if needed. Several cast curious glances in Justin's direction, with one lady offering a smile. Justin kept his hat off, sensing that putting it back on would feel out of place.

Lord Corrin emerged from the direction of his study, his expression warm. "How are you feeling? I see you're still using that cane. I hope it's not for my sake!"

Justin chuckled. "No, nothing like that. It's a good piece, despite the curse. As for how I'm feeling, generally good, but a little nervous."

Lord Corrin chuckled understandingly. "A man of your capabilities, nervous? For what reason?"

Justin caught the implication with his Insightful Gaze boon. He was supposedly the third son of a landed knight or perhaps a baronet, escorting the daughter of an earl.

To Lord Corrin, this was not a romantic outing; it was guard duty. Despite Corrin's liberal views, his daughter's independence, and the relaxed social conventions of a masquerade, certain barriers had to be maintained.

In a way, this made things easier. A relationship with Myrelle would be practically impossible.

The sooner Justin got that into his head, the better.

"This is an entrance to Belmoran society, however low the stakes," Justin said.

"Make no mistake," Lord Corrin replied seriously. "There are always stakes. But in my view, better you than Lord Hammond. He is annoyingly persistent."

Justin offered a knowing chuckle.

Lord Corrin's demeanor turned serious. "Given what you've done for our family so far, I believe you'll have no trouble finding your way here. Myrelle is a good judge of character. She can be a lot, my daughter, but she means well. It's your job to ensure she doesn't cause too much of a scene."

Justin frowned. "And why should I be worried about that?"

"Well, she is a lady who thought she could single-handedly bring down the Aurelians by allowing herself to be kidnapped. That is exactly the kind of thing I'm trying to avoid. Frankly, I trust you to handle it more than anyone else, since you have already proven yourself."

"Of course," Justin said. "Will you be attending?"

"I may make an appearance later," Lord Corrin replied, "but to be honest, I find it more prudent to remain here, at least this time."

"Makes sense," Justin replied. "That's a sentiment I completely understand."

Lord Corrin stared directly at him, his expression not unfriendly but firm. "I trust you understand that your role tonight is to ensure my daughter's safety and discretion. Nothing more."

Justin swallowed. "Of course, my lord."

Their conversation was interrupted as Justin's gaze shifted to the top of the stairs, where Myrelle appeared. His eyes widened at the sight.

She descended the staircase like a dream, her gown a masterpiece of deep crimson silk that seemed to catch fire in the lamplight. The dress featured an elegant off-shoulder design, adorned with delicate golden embroidery cascading down the flowing skirt. Her copper-brown hair was artfully arranged in an elaborate updo, with a few curls framing her face. A golden necklace set with rubies rested at her throat. The overall effect was both regal and alluring, befitting a lady of her station while hinting at her adventurous spirit.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, Justin swallowed hard. "You look..." The truth was, she was beyond enchanting, but he checked himself. "Nice."

She gave a furtive smile. "And you look handsome, Mr. Talemaker. I see you've made some adjustments to your attire."

"Yes," Justin replied, "and I can make adjustments as needed."

An awkward pause followed, during which Justin suddenly realized the flowers he intended to give her were in his pack outside, in a small compartment connected to Atlas himself. It seemed a gift was expected of him now, and he worried it might be too much, given Lord Corrin's words that were a barely veiled warning.

But he could hardly wait or change his plan on the fly.

"I have something for you on my construct," Justin said. "May I lead you outside?"

"Yes, of course," Lady Myrelle replied.

Justin offered his arm, and she smiled as she took it, while Lord Corrin looked on approvingly, though his eyes held a hint of warning. Justin had never felt more out of his depth; all of Alistair's well-meaning advice seemed to vanish now that things had gotten real.

They entered the evening light, where Atlas waited dutifully. Justin opened his pack and found the vase containing the fire blooms. He hesitated a moment. Should he present the whole thing or just a single flower?

In the end, he grabbed the whole vase. Better to be overly generous than risk offending her with too small a gift.

He turned to reveal the fiery blooms to Myrelle. "For you, my lady."

Her eyes widened, and she let out an audible gasp. Even Lord Corrin's eyes widened in surprise.

"By Vesperis," Myrelle said, placing a hand over her heart. "Where on Eyrth did you get these?"

He could hardly tell her the truth—it hadn't been on Eyrth at all.

"I picked them up during my travels," he explained vaguely.

"Extraordinary," Lord Corrin replied. "These are Velandian fireblooms. No question about it."

From both of their expressions, something was clearly amiss.

"I don't understand," Justin said. "I know the flowers are rare and extraordinary, but I hope I have not offended you in some way?"

Myrelle attempted to ease the tension with a warm smile. "No, there's nothing wrong with them. It's just that these flowers are cultivated by the royal family of Velandia. That's the only place you can find them, and within Velandia's borders, it's a crime to possess them without the favor of the Royals. I didn't realize you had a connection with the Velandian Empress!"

The Velandian Empress? Yes, this gift had been a mistake. It would have been better to give him some random trinket from his adventures rather than something from another planet that was also, apparently, only cultivated by the Royals of one of this world's most famous countries.

"It is the emblem of their house," Lord Corrin said. "I wasn't aware that any Aranthian house, minor or major, had a connection to the Velandian throne here in Aranthia. The Empire is quite secretive."

Justin cleared his throat. "Honestly, I wasn't aware of such a connection. I'm just a country boy from the Wildwood. I found these during my travels and thought they were beautiful. It's possible someone obtained the blooms outside the royal family of Velandia and planted them in the north of Serenthel, where I discovered them. Again, if I've caused any offense—"

"Oh, no offense taken," Lady Myrelle said. "It's a very thoughtful gift. I just can't display it in public. They will look lovely in my room."

Justin nodded. This was one of those situations where his lack of knowledge had led him astray, but thankfully Lady Myrelle seemed to understand.

Lord Corrin, on the other hand, was looking at him as if he were hiding further secrets.

Which, to be fair, he most certainly was.

"As for transportation," Justin said, "I have Atlas here, whom I picked up during my travels. He will serve us well."

Lord Corrin cleared his throat. "I have several stagecoaches that will more than—"

"Oh no, your construct will work just fine," Myrelle interrupted. "Less boring that way. And I really don't want people to know who I am."

Lord Corrin forced a smile. "Well, I can't argue with that. It is for a masquerade, after all." He cleared his throat. "The first course will probably be served soon. You two should be on your way."

"Of course," Myrelle said. "Justin will return me sometime after midnight. Isn't that right, Mr. Talemaker?"

"That's right," Justin replied. "You have nothing to worry about, Lord Corrin."

"Nor should I have any reason to," Lord Corrin said. "Take care of yourselves; our enemies are still around, but I refuse to withdraw because of it. I'm trusting you, Mr. Talemaker, to send a message if necessary."

"Of course, Lord Corrin."

With a final nod, Lord Corrin returned inside.

Myrelle looked at Justin and gave a slight eye roll, as if to dismiss her overprotective father. Justin smiled understandingly, but inside, he understood Lord Corrin's point.

"I want to see your mask!" Myrelle said.

Justin reached into his pack and produced it.

Lady Myrelle's eyes widened. "You bought this for the occasion? It's too much!"

"From Master Aliendro's shop," Justin replied. "I thought I could use it for more than just one night. What do you think?"

"It's certainly good for concealment and much nicer than that monocle you're wearing."

Justin chuckled, taking it off. "Oh, this thing?"

"Yes. I'm not sure how things are done in the Wildwood, where the approach seems to be more blunt. But here in Belmora, people generally dislike others wearing obvious interface-detecting items. That goes double for an event like this."

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"My apologies; I didn't know. I'm just used to danger never being far away."

"Which is understandable. But the Royal Family would take offense if you were to wear it. Not that you could with your mask anyway, since the fit would be awkward."

"True enough. I appreciate the warning."

Justin pocketed the monocle. In truth, he had gotten quite used to wearing it, but he also understood her point.

"Here's my mask."

Myrelle reached into what appeared to be an enchanted handbag, finely crafted. From its confines, she produced an elegant, feminine mask made of silver and shaped somewhat like butterfly wings extending backward, embedded with hundreds of tiny diamonds. She put it on, and it effectively masked her features.

"Beautiful," Justin said. "Though I prefer seeing your face."

As she removed her mask, he saw her faint smile. "Thank you." She glanced at Atlas. "We should probably get moving."

Atlas turned his metallic head to regard Myrelle curiously, his red eye pieces brightening.

"Hey, little guy," she said, reaching out to touch him. "Hope you don't mind one more."

Atlas practically purred at her touch.

"He seems to like you," Justin said.

"I've always liked pets," she replied. "Not that this one is a pet per se, but you understand what I mean. I've always had cats. Mine is named Aurelia."

"Aurelia?" Justin asked. "A bold name for a Corrin."

"Maybe, but it suits her. Pure golden fur, and isn't there a saying about keeping your enemies close, especially when they're cuddly?"

"Fair enough. Aside from Atlas, I don't have a pet, per se. My mom has a cat, though. His name is Monster."

Justin hadn't meant to reveal something so personal so soon, but there was probably no harm in it.

Myrelle laughed. "Monster? What kind of name is that?"

"Well, to be honest, he is a bit of a monster. He makes these strange yowling noises, which is how we found him by the side of the road one stormy night. But we took him in and discovered he is quite good at hunting down mice and is as sweet as can be."

"Aww," Myrelle said. "Cats are wonderful creatures."

"Indeed." He noticed her moving toward Atlas. "Allow me."

He took her gloved hand and helped her up the side of the construct. While she didn't really need the assistance, she seemed to appreciate it. He noticed her choice of footwear—boots, albeit elegant ones.

Justin chuckled. "You're not planning another adventure, are you?"

"Well, you never know," Myrelle said, settling in.

Instead of the cane he had gifted her, she carried a frilly crimson parasol. In noble circles, anyone with a class seemed to carry some sort of weapon. Though Justin's monocle was off now, he had noticed earlier it was gold-tier.

There was plenty of room for both of them on top of Atlas, but Myrelle had to sit quite close to him. Justin positioned himself behind her, allowing for as much space as possible while remaining comfortable. Myrelle's crimson gown was arranged down one of Atlas's sides.

He now understood why Lord Corrin had been uncomfortable with this arrangement; they weren't exactly touching, but it was probably closer than what propriety allowed.

As Atlas clipped down the driveway with a surprisingly smooth gait, they sat in companionable silence until they reached the main road toward Belmora.

"You and your father seem to have an understanding," Justin said.

"We do," Myrelle replied. "I think my father understands, more than most, that life is short. Rather than boxing me in, he has allowed me to flourish and explore. I'm very lucky in that way."

"Why more than most?" Justin asked.

"My mother. She has the Graying and rarely leaves bed these days."

"Oh," Justin said. "Forgive me, I didn't..."

"Nothing to forgive. She is eager to meet you, but..."

"No, I understand. It seems quite serious."

Myrelle nodded, but she was facing forward, so Justin couldn't see her face.

"Sorry about my father. He gives me a lot of freedom because of my age, but he's also protective."

"Your age?" Justin smiled. "You seem quite young to me."

"You're kind to say that, for society would say otherwise. I'm twenty-six."

"Same as me," Justin said.

"You seem to have much experience for a man so young," Myrelle observed.

"Perhaps. But maybe in some ways, not so much."

"An interesting answer."

"I feel more at home in the wilds than in a place like this," Justin said. "A strange thing for a Socialite. Do you ever find yourself feeling out of place, Lady Myrelle?"

"Sometimes," she admitted. "Most women my age would be married by now, but I'm not, for various reasons we won't discuss." She turned, smiling. "So, you never mentioned. Where did you get this construct? They're incredibly rare, and one of this quality will likely be a talking point tonight."

"It's from a Vault," Justin replied.

"I see. I sensed you were an adventurer. They all have a certain bearing. I've only done one Vault—Level seven." She shuddered. "Never again."

Justin was about to share his own adventures until he recalled Alistair's advice: be interested rather than interesting.

"Oh, how did that go?" he asked.

"Well, it was supposed to be simple. My father wanted me to understand real danger before taking on more family responsibilities. The Vault was called 'The Whispering Galleries,' and it seemed harmless enough from the outside."

She paused dramatically. "What we didn't know was that the entire place was designed to mess with your mind. Every corridor echoed with voices from your past—lost people, buried regrets, unspoken fears. By the third chamber, half our party was either paralyzed with terror or chasing phantoms."

"That sounds terrifying," Justin said. "How did you escape?"

"Pure stubbornness," she laughed. "I realized the Vault was feeding on our emotions, so I started reciting the most boring agricultural reports I could recall from my father's meetings. Crop yields, soil conditions, grain prices—apparently, nothing kills mystical psychological manipulation quite like discussions of fertilizer efficiency."

Justin chuckled. "I would never have thought of that."

"Neither would most people. Thankfully, my tactic helped the others, too. We all escaped with our lives." Her tone grew serious. "It taught me that sometimes the most unconventional approaches work best. Which, now that I think about it, might explain why I find you so intriguing, Mr. Talemaker."

Justin remained silent. If he reciprocated the compliment, it wouldn't be "proper," at least by this world's standards. But he also wasn't from this world, and Myrelle was her own person.

"I'm interested in you as well," he admitted. "To be honest, I haven't had much of a chance to spend time with noble ladies."

"Growing up in the Wildwood, you mean. If you believe the nobles at court, the courting pool is so sparse that young men there take to consorting with goblins."

"A vile accusation," Justin said with mock indignation. "It's a terrible insult... to the sheep, of which there are plenty in the Wildwood."

Myrelle laughed. "Well, I must say, you may get some ribbing tonight once they learn where you're from."

"Nothing I'm not used to, my lady. The company I'm with speaks to my quality."

"That can go one of two ways."

"I meant it in the goodway, Lady Myrelle. For I get the sense that even among the old blood of Belmora, you are exceptional."

"Maybe," she admitted, as if this were not a huge revelation in itself. "I've had many suitors over the years. Still do."

"Like this Lord Hammond. Will he be there?"

"Almost certainly. Ham-fisted Hammond, chief of the bores!"

"Now, that's not very kind. Perhaps you haven't given him a fair shake."

"I've given him more than a fair shake. I'm practically flailing my arms, and he's attached to me like Marin barnacles."

Justin chuckled. "Quite the image there."

"But maybe you do have a point about quality. After all, what other minor noble would show up to escort an earl's daughter with a mechanical spider? And not only that, but carrying flowers from a foreign empress's private garden?"

Justin chuckled. "I didn't steal them, if that's what you're implying."

"No, that's what my father thinks. But I also know you didn't find Velandian fireblooms in the north of Serenthel. They need warm sunlight and plenty of it, along with dry conditions. Unless you found them in a dragon's den?"

"No experience with dragons, thankfully. Drakes, though... that's another matter entirely."

"What a diverting avenue to explore, but let's keep the focus on those possibly ill-gotten fireblooms."

"I suppose you want the truth of it. Well, it's often said the truth is stranger than fiction. And I truly didn't think they would cause such a stir, but now I'm forced to explain myself."

"And would that be such a terrible thing?"

"Not necessarily. But what if I told you I've been to a place where fields of them grow? They reach up to your knees and are so common that people walk right over them without a second thought."

If by "people," one meant Fyrspawn, but Justin left that part out.

"Now you truly intrigue me, Mr. Talemaker. And where is this enchanted place?"

"I promise to tell you," Justin said. "Sometime soon."

She gave him a light punch. "That's not very nice of you."

Justin smiled at the jest, but the implication was clear: she had to earn his trust.

"You have a point there," he said, trying to keep his tone light. "But I've also learned not to reveal too much too soon. You may be like your father, but I'm still the son of a very minor baronet that it's probably not even worth the bother of labeling him such. In contrast, you're the daughter of Lord Corrin himself. I'm lucky to breathe your recycled air, my lady."

"Stop," she said, laughing. "If I wanted you, Mr. Talemaker, I'd make it happen. Just let anyone try to stop me!"

As if to make her point, she settled more comfortably against him as Atlas navigated a gentle curve in the road. Justin wanted to protest... at first. But he found that he enjoyed her being there.
Besides, it wasn't as if her father had anyone tailing them.

"Tell me more about the Wildwood," Myrelle said. "I've heard it's quite untamed out there. Father always speaks of the Hinterlands as if they are a testing ground for character."

Justin's stomach tightened. He'd prepared for this question, but hearing it from someone who seemed genuinely interested in him—not just gathering information—made any deception sting.

But he had himself to protect, and there was nothing wrong with that.

"It's challenging," he said carefully. "The Wildwood lives up to its name. Civilization is sparse beyond Mistwatch—mostly small settlements, logging camps, and the occasional trading post. Abandoned towns are common as well, rife with bandits."

"And goblin problems?" Myrelle asked. "I've heard the frontier settlements deal with raids regularly these days."

"More often than anyone would like," Justin replied, drawing on what little he'd learned during his time here. "Thankfully, they are mostly disorganized and unintelligent—not like the goblins of the Seraphims."

"And you have experience with them too? They say the Snow Goblins are quite reclusive."

"Not Snow Goblins," Justin said. "The Blackfangs. They make their homes in the ruins of Drakendir."

"Drakendir?" She laughed nervously. "You've been to Drakendir?"

"Once. Never again."

"Well, if you've survived that, I'm sure you're more than up to the task my father has set for you."

Justin chuckled. "I thought this was your idea."

"It was. My father just has to assert himself, as fathers do." She paused. "Growing up in the Hinterlands, consorting with these Blackfang goblins, traveling to places where fireblooms grow like weeds... it's no wonder you seem so capable. You have no choice but to be. Most of the young lords here are all talk. They may have cleared a Vault or two, but never anything truly dangerous. They show you some trinket they got from a Level 5 Vault and expect you to swoon."

The genuine sympathy in her voice tightened Justin's chest. Here she was, imagining a life he'd never experienced, while he sat there pretending it was all true.

It was protection, yes, but it still didn't feel good.

"It teaches you to be self-reliant," he managed. "And to trust your instincts. I have a Ranger friend. I learned that from him."

"What was your family's holding like? A manor house seems impossibly grand for such a remote territory, but surely House Talemaker had some sort of estate?"

Justin's mind raced. Each question was another thread in a web of deception that grew more complex by the moment. "Nothing grand," he said. "More of a fortified farmhouse, really. Quite humble. Stone walls, practical rather than beautiful. My father always said that out in the Wildwood, survival matters more than appearance."

"How pragmatic. And your parents? Are they still...?"

"My father has been deceased for over a decade now," Justin said quietly, which was true enough. "As for my mother, well... that's complicated. It's part of why I came to Belmora. There wasn't much left for me there."

Myrelle reached back and briefly touched his hand. "I'm sorry. That must be difficult. I understand complicated family dynamics."

The simple gesture of comfort made his guilt spike higher. She was offering genuine sympathy for losses she couldn't possibly understand, based on a story borrowed from his life on Earth.

"It's why I understand the value of new beginnings," he went on, feeling it was the most honest thing he'd said all evening. "And that's what I intend here in Belmora."

"Indeed," she murmured. "Though I must say, you've adapted to city life remarkably well for someone from such a rural background. Most Hinterland nobles who come to Belmora tend to stand out in less flattering ways. They don't know how to dress or act. And they're always asking for something... you haven't done that. Not yet, anyway."

"Except for business matters," Justin added.

"Well, if that was engineered, it was cleverly done. And despite your standing, if I may be so bold, you are a gentleman in the truest sense. That matters far more."

Justin felt the urge to sit taller. "Endearing Compliment?"

She chuckled. "You caught me. You're worth a cooldown, Justin."

He managed a laugh. "Well, if I'm anything at all, which isn't much, it's because I've had good friends and teachers along the way."

"Oh? Anyone I might know?"

Another careful navigation was required. "Unlikely. I've found that, at least in my wandering life, people tend to come and go. But each person leaves a part of themselves with you. You'd be surprised how much you can learn just by listening. A conversation late at night in the inn or around a campfire."

She sighed longingly. "You have the life I want. I'm painfully jealous of you, Mr. Talemaker."

Justin stayed quiet. He didn't want to tell her she could have that life. She knew she could, but it would mean abandoning everything here.

It wasn't practical, at least as far as he could guess.

The conversation shifted to lighter topics as Atlas carried them closer to Belmora, the city's lights beginning to twinkle in the distance from the top of a hill. With each question Myrelle asked and each observation she made, Justin felt the weight of his deception growing heavier. She was trying to understand him, to connect with the person she thought he was.

But the person she believed he was... didn't exist.

It shouldn't bother him. They would never be anything. They couldn't be anything.

But if something did happen, by some miracle, the truth would eventually come out. And that truth would destroy whatever trust existed between them.

He wasn't falling for her, not exactly. It was far too soon for that.

It was just a reminder that, because of his past, the secret he could never share, he would always be alone in this world.

Yet, he couldn't let her see that. He'd always wanted Charisma to be his weapon, a way to draw people to him while allowing them to see his side of things.

But he was starting to realize that Charisma had also become his shield. He would wear a mask, not just tonight at the masquerade, but over his own heart and secrets. He would laugh and smile, and she wouldn't know anything was wrong.

Because what was the alternative? Telling her the truth? She wasn't ready for that, and by the time she was, she'd have to accept an entirely new version of him and forgive the fiction he had allowed her to believe.

As they passed through the city gate, Justin realized that tonight wasn't just about surviving his first royal masquerade.

It was about how he wanted to proceed now and into the future, his first trial for wearing the social mask he had crafted.

And all of it made him feel... empty.

"Nearly there," Myrelle said brightly, once they were on the other side.

Justin forced a smile. "Can't wait."