The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

Lying sprawled on the ground, completely immobilized, Desmond clenched his teeth, biting down hard on his lower lip, the sting of pain serving as a cruel reminder. "I'm such a fool," he chastised himself, his mind swirling with regret. It was his own thoughtless words that had triggered her anger, igniting the fiery response that now echoed in his ears.

Desmond's face flushed with shame as he replayed the exchange, each word an arrow piercing his wounded pride.

Seeking solace amidst the chaos of his thoughts, he surveyed his physical state, his eyes flickering with a mix of disappointment and resignation. "Status," he whispered, his voice strained.

The holographic projection materialized before him, casting an ethereal glow upon the walls, revealing the reality of his current condition.

[Scanning host body...]

[Scan complete!]

[

-Status-

Name: Desmond

Gender: Male

Age: 7 years

Race: Human (95%)

Class: 1st swordsman

Occupation: None

Unique energy: 0.00 / 31.83

Strength: 15.49 (27.49)

Agility: 20.4

Stamina: 0.35 / 6.35

]

Desmond's eyes scanned the data, his gaze fixed on the numbers and descriptions that held the key to his existence.

"Strength: 15.49 (27.49)," he muttered, his voice laced with a mix of disappointment and determination. He had known deep down that this moment would come, but seeing it laid bare before him, the weight of his limitations pressed heavily upon his chest. The years of relentless training had yielded incremental progress, yet the distance to his goals seemed insurmountable.

"And I haven't had time to meditate either," Desmond murmured, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration. He longed for the solace and focus that meditation provided, a respite from the tumultuous world around him. He closed his eyes, the cool touch of the wooden floor beneath him grounding him in the present moment.

With a deep breath, he sought to steady his racing thoughts, to find a semblance of peace amidst the chaos that engulfed him.

Minutes ticked by as Desmond delved into the depths of meditation, his mind drifting into a realm of tranquility. Slowly, he opened his eyes, his gaze shifting to the surroundings that greeted him. A furrow formed between his brows, reflecting his perplexity.

"Is there truly no one else who can come to my aid in this place?" he mused aloud, his voice a mix of resignation and hopeful inquiry. Inhaling deeply, Desmond exhaled, willing himself to find composure amidst the uncertainty that loomed over him. "Stay calm," he reminded himself, his words laced with determination. "Now is the time to gather my strength."

Once more, Desmond closed his eyes, his focus intensifying as he mustered his inner power. Within the depths of his being, he sent forth a magic message, a plea for assistance, directed to one of his trusted maids.

.

.

.

Meanwhile, back at Desmond's grand residence, pandemonium reigned supreme. The maids scurried about, their footsteps echoing through the halls, their frantic actions reminiscent of chicks frantically searching for their mother. The room that bore witness to Desmond's absence became a flurry of activity, a chaotic scene fueled by desperation.

"Where is the young master?" one maid questioned, her voice filled with worry and urgency. The words hung heavy in the air, each syllable an echo of their collective fear.

"Perhaps he sought refuge beneath the bed?" another maid offered, her voice tinged with hope, yet laced with trepidation.

"No luck there! What about the closet? Have we checked every inch?" a third maid chimed in, her voice betraying a mix of exhaustion and frustration.

The atmosphere crackled with tension, as if time itself hung suspended in the air. Every corner of Desmond's abode was upturned and meticulously searched, his belongings strewn about in a desperate quest for any trace of his presence.

Even the guards stationed at the gate were called upon to assist in scouring the vast expanse of the surrounding forest, the very grounds where Desmond had honed his skills.

In the midst of the fervor, one of the servants fell silent, their eyes shifting with an air of understanding. Their silence spoke volumes, capturing the attention of their peers who, now fueled by anger and desperation, seized their fellow servant's hand in a tight grip.

"What are you doing?!" they exclaimed, their voices sharp with impatience. "We need your help in finding the young master, not succumbing to silence! Speak!"

The servant, their features etched with a mix of sorrow and determination, simply nodded, wordlessly conveying a newfound revelation that could potentially alter the course of their search. The others exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from frustration to a spark of hope, realizing that their silence may hold the key to unlocking the mystery of Desmond's whereabouts.

The servant, still lost in a dreamlike state, gradually snapped back to reality, their gaze shifting from one disgusted expression to another. The weight of their silence lifted as they found their voice amidst the disapproving glares. "N-No... I received a message from the young master earlier," they stammered, their words laden with a mix of relief and awe.

The room filled with a collective breath of gratitude as the maids who had been present in Desmond's room gathered around, their eyes shining with renewed hope.

"Is it true?" one maid exclaimed, her voice trembling with a mix of astonishment and gratitude. "Thank goodness, our young master is alive."

"Where did he say he was? Please, tell us," another maid implored, her voice laced with urgency.

Over the passing years, Desmond's presence had become intertwined with the hearts of the servants. In their eyes, he and Alice were no longer mere wards of the household, but cherished extensions of their own family. The absence of Leona and Bastian, Desmond's parents, had only deepened this connection, leaving the servants to fulfill the roles of caregivers and protectors.

Even the youngest servants held a fondness for Desmond, though they had learned to temper their joy, aware that displaying excessive emotion in front of him would only lead to their dismissal. The servants of Desmond's household had come to understand his nature quite well: so long as they remained quiet and dutifully obeyed his commands, Desmond would grant them an incredible amount of freedom.

It was his kindness that resonated deeply with the servants, and Desmond had even provided them with a place to call their own.

Upon receiving Desmond's orders, the servants engaged in a spirited discussion, pondering the question of who would have the honor of retrieving the young master. The room fell into a hushed silence as they contemplated the options.

"How about just two people?" one of the maids suggested, her voice breaking through the quietude.

"That's a good idea. The young master prefers to avoid drawing attention. Perhaps we should send the senior servants; their presence may attract less notice," another servant proposed, their eyes glancing towards the more experienced members of the household.

The senior servants frowned, their brows furrowing as they exchanged glances. "No, no. What if we entrust this task to one of the newer servants?" one of the senior maids chimed in, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. "The young master would surely be delighted by the presence of a young and beautiful servant."

The senior servants erupted into laughter, a somewhat wicked mirth dancing in their eyes. With a collective gesture, they pointed towards two specific servants. "Annie and Laura, you shall be the ones to retrieve our young master," they announced, their words carrying an air of finality.

"But—" Laura began, her voice trailing off, the weight of uncertainty evident in her tone.

"No time to waste! The young master dislikes waiting, and he specifically requested a robe," the senior maids interjected, their words urging Annie and Laura to depart swiftly.

Laura, a young servant filled with nerves and anticipation, found herself embarking on her first face-to-face interaction with Desmond. Annie, on the other hand, exuded a calm confidence, unbothered by the prospect of meeting the young swordsman.

As they made their way to retrieve Desmond, the other servants watched, their expressions betraying a mixture of sly amusement and cautious hope.

"I hope they exercise caution and carry out their duty diligently," one of the maids whispered, a flicker of concern glimmering in her eyes.

"That's right, the young master despises carelessness more than anything."

"Haha, especially Laura. She's probably had her fair share of scoldings from the young master."

"No, no, it must be Annie. Did you see the look in her eyes when we told her to go? Perhaps she has no idea how intimidating the young master has become lately."

"Indeed, especially after the young mistress left."

Their conversation drifted to an end, and the servants dispersed, returning to their respective duties. Annie and Laura had already embarked on their journey with the robes they had procured, fulfilling Desmond's specific request.

Desmond's residence and the Raven Soul Guild were situated at opposite ends of the city. The Guild's towering structure stood in the southern region, while Desmond's house nestled in the northern district. The stark contrast between the two locations made Desmond's bloodied sprint from his home to the Guild all the more shocking.

.

.

.

Raven Soul Guild

The atmosphere within the Guild mirrored that of a bustling tavern, with members and visitors bustling about, their eyes drawn to the bustling noticeboard. Normally, the Guild's entrance door remained open, largely ignored by the seasoned adventurers.

However, this time, the attention of everyone present fixated upon two young women donned in maid attire, stationed at the entrance as if searching for something or someone.

A confident mercenary, caught in their gaze, approached the maidens with a charismatic grin. "Well, well, hello there, beauties. Are you in search of someone, or perhaps... me?" he playfully quipped, attempting to charm them.

The women, Annie and Laura, maintained their composure and replied politely, "Greetings. Have you by any chance seen an individual with purple eyes and brown hair entering the Guild yesterday?" They provided the best description they could, trying to capture Desmond's distinctive features.

However, the mercenaries, more fixated on their physical attributes, kept their attention squarely on their bosoms, causing discomfort to ripple through Laura and Annie.

Sensing her friend's unease, Laura stepped forward and gently tugged at her arm, urging them to approach the receptionist desk. Their arrival had undoubtedly stirred interest among the ordinary Guild-goers.

Annie possessed long, lustrous blonde locks that cascaded down her back, paired with a figure that exuded allure. However, her icy demeanor and commanding presence kept most men at a respectful distance. Laura, on the other hand, boasted vibrant, flowing red hair and an equally captivating figure, emanating a warm and innocent aura.

As they reached the receptionist desk, Laura wasted no time in repeating their inquiry.

Katrina, the receptionist who had admitted Desmond the night before, suddenly grew agitated and raised her voice, causing a stir among the Guild's occupants. "What is your relationship with that bastard?!" Her outburst echoed through the air, capturing the undivided attention of everyone present.