The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

"This is your next dish, my princess," Vesta announced as he approached his daughter, wearing an apron and carefully balancing a serving plate in his hands.

"Wow..." Diana's eyes shimmered with excitement as she eagerly gazed at the food her father had prepared. "Hurry up, father!" She clutched a spoon and fork in both hands, playfully tapping the table with her elbow.

Vesta chuckled, basking in the delightful atmosphere. He gently placed the plate before his daughter and watched as she wasted no time in sampling the culinary creation.

"Mmm, delicious!" Diana exclaimed with a muffled voice, her words intertwining with the flavors dancing on her taste buds.

Observing the sheer bliss reflected in his daughter's expression, Vesta's heart melted. He affectionately reached out to touch her head, tenderly stroking her hair. "Now, tell me, what are your thoughts about that boy?" he inquired, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

Diana momentarily paused, sighing before responding, "Why do father and mother always ask the same thing? It's tiring, really." Despite her apparent annoyance and lack of enthusiasm, Vesta noticed a glimmer in her eyes whenever she mentioned Desmond's name.

"Very well, I won't bring it up again," Vesta assured her, understanding her weariness. "However, I want to make sure—don't you find anything peculiar about that boy?"

At that moment, realization dawned upon Diana. "Oh, right... now that you mention it," she began, her cheeks flushing crimson. "Not that I think he's a hero or anything! No, no, that's not what I meant," Diana hastily clarified, waving her hands in front of her father.

She continued, "As you said, at first, he appeared formidable, but lately, he seems... umm... rather ordinary?" Diana struggled to find the right words to convey her observations.

Witnessing his daughter's genuine response confirmed Vesta's suspicions. "Aura, huh..." he muttered to himself, catching Diana's attention.

Curious, Diana tilted her head, a smudge of cake adorning her cheek as she inquired, "What is it, father?"

Noticing the confectionery residue, Vesta swiftly retrieved his handkerchief, gently wiping away the mark from her cheek. A warm smile graced his lips as he explained, "In short, aura reflects the character of each person. It can be seen as the impression you described."

Feeling her father's touch, Diana affectionately nuzzled her cheek against his hand and nodded in understanding.

"Which means that something has changed within that boy recently," Vesta remarked, narrowing his eyes as he approached the window, his gaze fixed on Desmond's horse-drawn carriage.

"Isn't that intriguing? Initially, he appeared almost beastly, with an aura reminiscent of the slaves we used to encounter in the sewers," Diana exclaimed, her brows furrowing in confusion at the seriousness emanating from her father.

Vesta couldn't help but be taken aback by his daughter's revelation. Why hadn't Clementine informed him of such a significant development? Could it be that the child he thought was his own was actually adopted, and perhaps even...

Contemplating the possibility, Vesta's expression grew more serious, and he made his way to the bookshelf, retrieving a blank parchment. He settled at a small table and began writing with the pen firmly secured on the surface.

Observing her father's actions, Diana's curiosity was piqued. Aware that interrupting her father while he worked was impolite, she silently approached him from behind, attempting to catch a glimpse of what he was writing.

'A letter to my friend, Sanders.'

Before Diana could glean any further details, her father abruptly turned around and grasped her shoulder. "It's impolite to peek at father's work, and you know that," he admonished her with a smile that, this time, felt more like an order.

"Look, your cake will become dry, and the texture will harden," he gently redirected her attention.

"Oh, right," Diana responded, promptly returning to her cake-eating, momentarily forgetting about her father's peculiar expression.

Once he saw that his daughter had resumed her composure, Vesta's countenance reverted to seriousness. He resumed writing on the parchment, but before he could continue, a shout from outside pierced the air.

"Halt!"

Meanwhile, inside Desmond's horse-drawn carriage, both Laura and Desmond also heard the commotion, causing Desmond to set aside his book and look out the window. He spotted a towering wall separating the Outer City from the Inner City, his gaze shifting to the gate where Vesta was engaged in a discussion with the gatekeeper.

Realizing it was of no immediate concern, Desmond settled back onto the couch, taking a sip of his tea. In the background, he could hear the jubilant voices of the people, praising Vesta's name. This reminded him of the situation surrounding the other child of his age.

"Hmm... I wonder if Elizabeth will also enroll in the academy," Desmond pondered aloud, setting aside his tea. This time, he paused his reading, diverting his attention to the crowd that had gathered around his horse-drawn carriage.

In his assessment, not only did Elizabeth possess everything, but she also had the means to request her father to teach her magic, and she could even hire a Wizard or Witch at her disposal.

"But I'm certain that besides Elizabeth, there will be other children enrolling in the academy," Desmond remarked confidently. Matson, a highly arrogant individual who desires to marry Elizabeth, and Clark, a former nobleman who has always yearned for her, are likely to register without a doubt.

"Interesting... I can hardly wait for the clash between them," Desmond mused. It amused him to think that individuals as feeble as Matson and Clark would dare to vie for the unattainable. Ultimately, the final verdict would rest with Elizabeth. This whole situation reminded Desmond of a phrase he had encountered in other novels: 'A frog attempting to consume swan meat.'

"Ah, I almost forgot about that rotund ball," Desmond chuckled. While Gibson could be bothersome at times, there was a valid reason why Desmond had permitted him to live until now.

Lost in his daydreams, Desmond suddenly realized that the crowd was growing distant as his gaze shifted. Glancing towards the gate, he noticed that the carriage had already resumed its journey.

Meanwhile, Laura remained fixated on her young master's handsome face, which leaned against the window of the horse-drawn carriage. Ahh, the young master exuded such charm. Even if time were to come to a standstill, she wouldn't grow weary of gazing at his countenance for the rest of her life. Every motion he made appeared swift and elegant through her adoring eyes.

The thought of spending several months together with her young master in this very room caused her heart to skip a beat.

Just then, Laura observed her young master's expression returning to its usual state as he approached her and settled back onto the sofa.

"Fetch me the academy guidebook," Desmond requested, his gaze drifting towards his cup of tea, only to find it empty. With a sigh, he added, "And kindly refill this tea for me."

"Yes, young master," Laura responded wholeheartedly, her gaze gentle as she looked upon him.