The Coachman

Adam finished his day of study, leaving the Mirror Tower around four or five in the afternoon.

Macallan was already waiting outside the clock tower, appearing to be dutifully standing by the carriage. However, Adam could clearly smell his scent lingering on the window near the clock tower. Not long ago, Macallan had been peeking through the windows, trying to observe what was happening inside the tower, and the windowsill was noticeably cleaner than the rest.

"Let's visit the Rome household," Adam instructed as he boarded the carriage, the oppressive feeling once again pressing on Macallan's heart.

Macallan drove the carriage without daring to look back. Despite the curtain between them, he felt as if Adam were a terrifying presence, perhaps even more intimidating than Lord Doug himself.

This pressure was perfectly calibrated—it instilled fear in Macallan without pushing him to do anything rash. Yet, such pressure accumulates, and Adam suspected that Macallan might eventually break. Would he then choose to confess everything, or would he take a desperate measure to eliminate the source of his stress?

From the moment Adam detected the coachman's inexplicable hostility, he had regarded Macallan and those behind him as potential enemies.

For potential enemies, there's only one course of action: disrupt their rhythm and weaken their state.

"For me, it would be better if he chooses the former," Adam thought, gradually easing the pressure and shifting his demeanor.

Macallan felt a sudden release, his body drenched in sweat as if awakening from a nightmare. The world became clearer—familiar streets, the well-worn reins, his old companion, the horse—everything felt vivid and alive, as if he had been reborn.

"Adam... could he be... a noble lord?" Macallan couldn't find other words to describe Adam. He knew nobles were naturally noble and possessed abilities beyond ordinary people. Besides them, only those blessed with the grace of the gods, like the clergy, could wield such special powers.

Macallan began to worry. He was just a coachman, like his father and grandfather before him. From birth to death, his life was tied to the Rome family, and he expected his son and grandson would follow the same path.

But he harbored a secret envy and resentment towards Walker, who served closely with Lord Doug. That position should have been his. When Master Matt approached him for help with some tasks, he saw a glimmer of hope. Maybe one day he could drive for Master Matt and stand by his side.

Lost in thoughts of a better future, mixed with an unnameable fear, Macallan's hands remained steady on the reins. He was, after all, the best coachman of the Rome family.

The carriage stopped outside the Rome estate. Adam disembarked, fixing his gaze on Macallan.

"You're an excellent coachman. I'll make sure to commend you to Mr. Doug," Adam's praise made Macallan stand a bit taller.

Indeed, Macallan was an excellent coachman, but still just a coachman.

Adam approached the gate and rang the bell, holding the card from the gift box. He glanced inside the estate and noticed several birds on a tree branch, looking at him intently as he arrived.

With the card's assistance, Adam soon met the man from the morning, David, the third butler of the Rome estate, who was training under his father to eventually take over the role of head butler.

Most servants in noble houses followed this tradition, passing their roles down through generations. Many spent their entire lives within the estate's confines, seeing it as their whole world.

Adam followed David through the estate, passing under a tree where the birds chirped. Neither of them paid it any mind. Adam's eyes scanned the servants, each one seemingly locked in their roles by the era and the world's limitations.

To most people of this time, noble servants were seen as superior to ordinary peasants. Their worldview was confined to the estate, never pondering what lay beyond. The same was true for most people outside the estate, trapped in their own lives without considering other possibilities.

For them, life was fine as it was.

"It's just that I refuse to live like that," Adam thought, showing no outward signs of dissent.

For most, life was determined at birth. In his past life and this one, most people's paths were set from the start. In his previous life, higher productivity and the absence of supernatural powers made it easier for ordinary people to break free of their birth circumstances. Here, it was much harder.

In this world, if you were born a servant's child, you served nobles. If you were a peasant, you toiled. If you were a slave, you obeyed until death. And if you were born an outcast, you hid, became a monster, waiting for the day the church's pyre claimed you.

Adam smiled, entering the Rome residence and following David to the second floor. Doug stood at the top of the stairs to greet him.

"Master Adam, welcome," Doug's friendly smile masked any ulterior motives. "Please forgive this old man for not greeting you at the door due to my frail health."

"Mr. Doug, you're too kind," Adam replied courteously, following him to the study.

Adam noticed Doug's coachman always close behind, his presence a constant. Adam scrutinized the tall, muscular man, whose black hair was tied back, his face sporting dark stubble. His demeanor was similar to Gold's, his movements precise and controlled.

It reminded Adam of Gold's teachings.

Knights, especially those trained in combat styles, integrated their training into everyday movements, always ready to unleash formidable power.

Adam's "Heart of Life" wasn't a combat-oriented technique, though widely used for its versatility. True combat styles prioritized immediate, raw power and deadly efficiency. Most combat knights were found in the military or among the nobles' elite guards.

The coachman, sensing Adam's gaze, looked back without a word.

Adam tightened his grip on the spellbook, responding with a smile.

In the study, Adam and Doug exchanged pleasantries. Adam expressed his gratitude, while Doug dismissed it as a small gesture, inviting Adam to stay the night.

Adam glanced at the birds outside, declining politely.

At that moment, the study door burst open.

Two bird calls sounded, drawing Adam's attention to the middle-aged man entering.

"What are you doing here?" Doug's face darkened with authority. "Get out! Can't you see we have a guest?"

Doug was displeased with all his sons, seeking the longevity potion to outlive them and see the next generation grow. He knew he couldn't let Matt learn about the potion, fearing the chaos his incompetent son might cause.

Matt glanced at Adam, then at his furious father, his face twitching before he turned and left.