I Refused To Be Reincarnated

The following days dripped like honey from a muse's jar. Adam and Quintella relaxed in the most expensive cafes. Concertos of violin and bass lulled their stay—fragrant steam from tea and coffee curling from their warm porcelain cups.

Quintella's chuckles reverberated with each new pastry she tried. The slightly sweet taste of pistachio cream filled her mouth when she tried a green macaron. Another time, she devoured an entire tart covered in a yellow film that sparkled like gelatinised gold.

The first bite made her grimace—the sourness of lemons. She hated sour things, like most children. And yet, when the pie crust cracked, and the buttered sweetness melded with the sourness, a delighted shiver ran through her rising hand. She cupped her cheek, gasping at the contradictory flavors that somehow managed to make perfect sense.

Each day was a wonderful discovery to her. Adam brought her to shops, where she tried dresses more elegant than the last. Frills intricate enough to feel mystical, fabric so soft that she felt as if it was part of her body, or jewellery to tie her hair; he bought her a wardrobe worth several million Prestige without flinching.

It warmed her mending heart—the feeling of being loved not for what she could bring or what she was, but for who she was.

Even though the separation from her father, Wei, had weighed on her when they first stepped into the archipelago, Adam's care, everything he did for her, left her smiling every night before sleeping and smiling again when she woke up with the gentle rays of the sun.

Just yesterday, he had brought her to a labyrinthine structure lined with cages. Each time she passed beside one, a different magical beast returned her gaze, sometimes with simian curiosity, others with the yawn of a predator who knew its days of hunting were over. She had seen birds of all colors and species, talons ranging from crooked like daggers to straight like knives, feathers like scales or fluff like cotton. They chirped in a crystalline choir, as if performing for the visitors.

At first, she felt scared. What if the beasts escaped, lunged at them?

Adam had explained that they were well-tamed and not powerful enough, or they wouldn't have ended up as an attraction in Brineheart's zoo. And she trusted him. She would always. With her worries dissipated, she marvelled at the beasts until the sun dipped behind the horizon, and the staff informed them about the zoo's closure.

On his side, Adam progressed with his land recovery procedure. Brielle had restored his deed. Milky paper now replaced the sickly yellow parchment that was about to crumble to dust. Fresh ink retraced the faded letters, finally giving the unreadable text official weight.

After paying the archivist ten million Prestige for her service, Robert took the stage. Like a storm given flesh, he assaulted the district hall with judicial procedure, his lawyer friend, Marc, in tow. Together, they forced the reluctant mayor to recognise the deed and organise a meeting with the land's current owners.

The head of a Count House fought tooth and nail to keep their property. After all, he owned an official land deed as well, obtained when his ancestor bought it two thousand years ago.

The case became so tricky that the mayor sighed with every word hurled between the opposing sides. Land was sparse, too sparse for the nobles. Since the original deed was lost six thousand years ago, he had naturally made a new one and resold the land. Now that it had resurfaced, he felt trapped in a quagmire of his own making.

Ultimately, it was Mark who got the final word.

"I get that it's unfair and no one is really to blame here, but—" He raised a finger, pausing to add weight to his words. "The law was never meant to be fair. The antiquity of a document takes precedence."

The count countered. "Only if the document was never altered. Yours shows clear signs of restoration!"

"You're right," Mark smirked like a fox that had trapped prey. He tapped on the intact magic seal that pulsed at the back of the paper, spots of rot barely visible. "But not entirely. The only thing that must remain free of alteration is the district hall's seal. Our dear Brielle methodically avoided it. Please, check the deed once more."

He handed it to the twisted-lipped mayor and sat back, arms crossed over his chest, with the confidence of a strategist awaiting the other side to raise the white flag.

As the mayor inspected the seal, the count flared into a raging argument. Spit flew out of his mouth, veins throbbing in his neck and forehead. "We bought the land fair and square. My father grew up in this castle. So did I and my children. Yet, you're asking not only for me to surrender my castle and to scram, but to do it without compensation."

He slammed his fists on the mayor's desk, official documents flying past his narrowed eyes. "In what world are we living? Is that the justice we're so proud of? I won't let a crooked lawyer, a poor merchant, and a teenager swindle me of my birth rights!"

However, the mayor merely massaged his temples and shook his head. "There is nothing I can do to help. You can take the case to court, but Mark is right. You'll lose the case, more Prestige for the judicial fees, and end up not only without a land, but with nothing." His voice carried a hint of sadness for the count, an old acquaintance. "Let it go, Paul. You don't have a choice."

The count burst into a storm of unfitting insults directed at Mark, Robert, and Adam. He claimed he wouldn't agree, that the court would right this surreal extortion.

Amidst the chaos, Adam raised his palm. When he spoke, his words were neither harsh nor arrogant. Instead, they were disturbingly gentle. "The land you have resided on is mine by right, Count Paul. But I hear your grievances and find them reasonable."

Paul instantly stopped screaming, his eyes widening as Adam continued.

"Here is my offer: the land is mine; that won't change. However, I'll let you continue to live on it free of charge. All I ask is for an office, a lab, and a room when I visit." He extended his palm. What do you say? It's better than fighting meaninglessly."

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AN: Sry for the summary, but I don't want to delay the college arc meaninglessly.