That not so important character turned out to be important

Harold adjusted the weight of the suitcase in his hands, his aged features calm but alert. "Master, I have prepared everything just as you requested. Should I arrange for a carriage as well?"

Shaun raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Oh? Trying to rub salt in the wound, old man? You know full well I can't afford a carriage. Don't bother—I'll manage on my own. Besides," he glanced toward the creaking staircase, "this will be my first time stepping out of this town. It might as well be on my own two feet."

As they descended to the first floor, Harold followed closely behind, the suitcase swaying lightly in his hands. Shaun's voice was casual, but his words carried a hint of finality. "Anyway, Harold, you'll be running things here while I'm gone. Stick to the plans I've laid out. Don't bother with anyone who comes sniffing around. Just follow what I told you, got it?"

Harold nodded solemnly, his loyalty unshaken. "Understood, Master."

When they reached the first floor, the eyes of the people sheltering in the crumbling mansion flicked toward them. Whispers rose, low murmurs buzzing just beneath the surface of the silence, only for the gazes to quickly avert when Shaun glanced their way. They were trying to appear indifferent, but the curiosity was palpable, almost suffocating.

Shaun's thoughts churned as he pushed open the heavy front door, the cool air outside brushing against his skin. Really? Is me going outside that big of a deal?

He scoffed inwardly, his annoyance bubbling up. These people are like pests, always reacting like this. Even on that day, they were doing the same thing—watching, whispering, and pretending they weren't. It's their only skill: to stand in the shadows and gawk at things they don't understand.

He glanced back briefly, catching a few more furtive glances before the door swung shut behind him. Peak crowd behavior. They're the perfect mob for a shitty novel—never doing anything themselves, just standing around like extras, observing but never acting. Doesn't matter if someone's dying right in front of them; all they can manage is to spectate.

Shaun's steps quickened as he moved down the uneven path outside, Harold trailing behind him silently. His thoughts, however, grew. People in this world are always at the extremes. Either they're shunning someone completely, pouring all their hate into them, or worshipping someone else excessively for reasons that barely make sense. There's no in-between. It's like they're hardwired to overreact.

He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to focus. What's worse is how they let their feelings control everything. Make a rash decision? Fine, just victimize yourself afterward, and the world will go on. No accountability. No sense of autonomy.

His grip on the strap of his bag tightened, the leather creaking softly. The problem with fantasy worlds like this is the mobs. They think they deserve help, that someone else is going to swoop in and solve their problems. So what do they do in the meantime? Nothing. Just act like they're invisible and hope their troubles vanish. It's pathetic.

As they neared the edge of the dilapidated courtyard, Shaun's gaze shifted to the horizon. The distant rooftops of the town framed the setting sun, casting long shadows over the uneven cobblestones.

They need someone to lead them, to herd them like the sheep they are. A leader who can manipulate their every move while they follow blindly, never thinking for themselves. They're not autonomous; they're barely even people.

Shaun exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. Truly pathetic creatures.

As Shaun and Harold stepped into the crumbling courtyard, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed against the worn cobblestones. Rosie, appeared from behind a wilted hedge, clutching a small bundle of white lilies in her hands. Her cheeks already carried a faint pink hue, which deepened as she spotted Shaun.

"Young Master Shaun!" she called out, her voice trembling slightly, equal parts excitement and nerves. She stopped just short of him, bowing lightly. "Good afternoon, sir."

Shaun tilted his head, Rosie had joined only a few days ago as a housemaid, she requested the right to use the garden instead of receiving money for her work. With no reason to deny her request, I granted permission. In fact, she intended to tend to the garden and improve its appearance, transforming it into a more pleasant space — so not bad a bad deal at all

his fiery eyes glinting with mild curiosity. "What is it, Miss Rosie? Got another flower for me?" His voice carried an easy nonchalance, but there was a teasing undertone that made Rosie's blush intensify.

"H-how did you know, Young Master?" she stammered, the lilies in her hand trembling ever so slightly. "I… I thought I'd surprise you…"

Shaun smirked faintly, shifting the weight of the suitcase Harold had handed him. "Just a hunch. Or maybe my eyes are sharp enough to catch those lilies you're hiding." He gestured toward the bouquet in her hand with a slight nod.

Rosie's face turned a deeper shade of red as she looked down at the flowers. "Oh… I'm really sorry. This is so embarrassing. I must be bothering you, Young Master."

"Not as much as you're thinking," Shaun replied, his tone dry but not unkind. He adjusted his grip on the suitcase, glancing briefly toward the gate. "What's the occasion this time? Another attempt at brightening this dreary place?"

Rosie bit her lip, fumbling with the stems of the lilies. "I just thought… I mean, you've been so busy lately, and I wanted to bring you something nice."

Shaun let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "You've got good intentions, Rosie, but you don't need to trouble yourself over me."

Rosie nodded quickly, her embarrassment still evident. "Are you going somewhere, Master Shaun?" she asked, her voice soft but curious.

"Yeah." Shaun took the suitcase from Harold's hands, resting it on his own shoulder with ease. "Got some business outside the town."

Rosie's eyes widened slightly, the lilies forgotten for a moment. "Outside? You've never left before, have you?"

Shaun gave her a faint smile, though his tone remained casual. "Yep, First time for everything, right?"

The maid looked as though she wanted to ask more, but Shaun's expression made it clear he wasn't in the mood for a lengthy conversation. Instead, she bowed politely. "Please take care, Young Master. I'll be here when you return."

"Sure, Rosie." Shaun turned toward the gate, Harold following closely behind. As they walked away, Shaun glanced over his shoulder one last time, catching the maid standing in the courtyard, the lilies pressed close to her chest, her gaze lingering on him.

People like her always look at me like that, Shaun thought with a flicker of irritation. Too much hope in their eyes for someone who isn't going to save them.

The courtyard was quieter now, with only the faint rustle of the wind disturbing the stillness. Rosie lingered by the fountain, clutching her bouquet of lilies as she watched Shaun disappear beyond the gate. Her heart fluttered with a mix of curiosity and worry.

It wasn't long before the Town Chief, Gregor, and the Head Priest, Elijah, emerged from the side path leading to the mansion's rear garden. Both men appeared engrossed in conversation, their steps deliberate as they approached Rosie.

"Miss Rosie," Gregor greeted her with a warm smile, his hands clasped behind his back. The older man's weathered face bore the marks of years of hard decisions and sleepless nights. "I see you've been speaking with the young lord."

Rosie turned to him, her expression hesitant. "Y-yes, Town Chief . He… he just left the mansion."

Elijah raised a curious eyebrow. "Left the mansion? The young lord doesn't strike me as someone eager to leave his domain. Did he say where he was going?"

Rosie shook her head, glancing down at the lilies in her hands. "He said he had business outside the town. That's all. It's the first time I've ever seen him leave."

Gregor's brow furrowed. "Outside the town, you say? That's peculiar. The young lord has always kept to himself. Never one for ventures beyond the mansion's grounds not that i am aware of."

Elijah folded his arms, a contemplative look crossing his face. "Do you think this could be related to the baron's visit earlier? The mansion has seen more activity in recent days than it has in years."

Rosie hesitated, glancing between the two men. "I don't know… but he was carrying a suitcase. Harold seemed to know about it, but he didn't say anything either. It's all so strange."

Gregor exchanged a glance with Elijah. "The baron's visit was odd enough. Now the young lord is leaving? There must be more to this than meets the eye."

Elijah nodded slowly. "Indeed. The young lord has always been an enigma, keeping his dealings close to the chest. But for him to venture beyond his usual confines? and that too alone It must be significant. He wouldn't step out for something trivial."

Rosie looked up at them, her voice tinged with concern. "Do you think he might be in danger? Or… or that he's doing something dangerous?"

Gregor placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Calm yourself, Rosie. It's too early to assume the worst. The young lord is… different, that much we know. But he's also way more smarter than we think."

Elijah, however, seemed less convinced. "smart, yes. But still a child he could still be trapped in unwanted probllems."

Rosie's eyes widened, clutching the lilies tighter. "problems? What do you mean, Father?"

Elijah met her gaze with a somber expression. "I cannot say for certain. But I feel we should keep a close watch on the young lord's after all he has helped us in this tough situation and do whatever its take to help him. "

Gregor sighed, his hands resting on his hips. "Then we'll stay vigilant. For now, let's not raise any alarm. Let him do what he must."

Rosie bit her lip, glancing back toward the gate. "I hope he's alright…"

Elijah offered her a gentle smile. "He'll be fine, Rosie. Dont worry ."

The three of them stood in silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts about the young lord's sudden departure.

Shaun walked with a steady pace along the dirt road, his suitcase in one hand, his other casually tucked into his coat pocket, the cool evening air carrying the scent of grass and earth. His steps steady and unhurried. His eyes, as cold as the twilight sky, scanned the path ahead with a detached indifference.

It wasn't long before the peace was disturbed. A man stepped onto the road, his broad figure outlined against the setting sun.

He cracked his knuckles loudly, a show of force for someone clearly used to bullying weaker targets.

"Well, well," the man drawled, his voice dripping with condescension. "What do we have here? A little noble boy wandering all alone with a shiny suitcase? That suitcase looks heavy. Let me lighten the load for you, Hand it over, and maybe I won't leave you limping."

Shaun stopped, tilting his head as if examining a particularly unremarkable rock. "Heavy, huh? I think your confidence is more heavy than this suitcase, Might want to rethink the load distribution before you collapse under it."

The man's smirk faltered. "You think you're funny? Hand it over, or I'll break every bone in your scrawny body."

Shaun sighed, setting his suitcase on the ground. "Every bone? Ambitious for someone who's barely managing to stay upright with that posture."

The man roared in frustration, lunging forward. Shaun sidestepped with minimal effort, his hand darting out to grab the man's wrist. Before the thief could process what was happening, Shaun twisted sharply. A sickening crack filled the air as the man dropped to his knees, clutching his broken arm and screaming in agony.

Shaun crouched down, his voice calm, almost conversational. "You know, they say arrogance is brittle. I'd argue it's more like your radius—prone to snapping under pressure."

He rifled through the man's pockets, retrieving a small coin pouch. Giving it a shake, he frowned. "Two coppers? That's not even enough to buy your self-respect back. Not that you had much to begin with."

The road stretched on, the stillness settling again. Shaun was beginning to enjoy the quiet when a voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding.

"Stop right there!"

A woman stepped onto the path, her hair tied back in a severe bun. She had an air of forced confidence, her knife glinting in the fading light.

Shaun raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess. You're here to 'redistribute my wealth' too?"

The woman sneered. "It's nothing personal. People like you hoard everything while the rest of us scrape by. Hand over the suitcase, and maybe I'll let you walk away."

Shaun's lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. "Ah, the righteous thief trope. Do you rehearse these lines in the mirror, or is the indignation spontaneous?"

Her face reddened with anger, and she lunged. Shaun moved like a shadow, his hand catching her wrist mid-swing. With a sharp motion, he disarmed her, the knife clattering to the ground. A twist and a shove sent her sprawling, clutching her now-dislocated shoulder.

Shaun crouched beside her, his voice as cold as the night creeping in. "Monster? No, just efficient. Though I'm flattered you think I'm worth the label."

He picked up her satchel, pulling out a handful of coins and some dried rations. "Generous of you. I'll make good use of this. Consider it your contribution to my travel fund."

He hadn't made it far, another tragic comedy appeared. A boy, no older than 7, blocked the path. He stood with his chest puffed out, gripping a slingshot with all the bravado of someone who hadn't yet learned what consequences meant.

"Give me your money, or I'll shoot!" the boy shouted, his voice cracking.

Shaun stared at him for a long moment, then sighed, setting his suitcase down again. "Of course, Go ahead. Take your best shot."

The boy hesitated, then fired. The pebble bounced harmlessly off Shaun's chest. Shaun raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Bold move. Too bad your aim's about as threatening as a butterfly sneeze."

In one swift motion, Shaun grabbed the boy by the back of his shirt and hoisted him into the air. The boy flailed, yelling protests that Shaun ignored as he carried him to a nearby tree and hurled him against it. The boy hit the trunk with a loud thud and slid down, groaning.

Shaun dusted off his hands, picking up his suitcase once more.

"What a philanthropic bunch," he murmured, his tone dry and distant. "Throwing themselves at me just to fund my journey. Truly, the world is full of unsung heroes."

With that, he continued down the path, the faint sound of his whistling fading into the night.