Lady Mia Of House Dromas

"I see that your manner of speech is impressive. Did you practice it?" I complimented the boy, genuinely curious about how he spoke so formally.

His eyes widened, and he immediately puffed up his chest, clearly trying to look tougher. "Y-you! Don't look down on me!" he shot back, his voice a little shaky, but his pride unshaken. I couldn't help but laugh at his earnestness. It was refreshing—after so many years of isolation, even this simple interaction felt like a breath of fresh air.

It had been a long time since I had a proper conversation with anyone. During my journey, the people around me seemed reluctant to approach or speak with me, perhaps due to the way I carried myself or the gloomy aura that clung to me for all those years as a shut-in. It made me feel guilty, but I hoped I could change that, starting here.

Still smiling, I looked down at the boy. "I am Randel Eir Dromastus, eldest son of the Dromastus household," I said, a touch of formality creeping into my tone. "Now, tell me, boy, what is your name?"

He hesitated for a moment, as if unsure whether to answer, but then he mumbled, "K-Kyle..."

I nodded, keeping my tone gentle. "Kyle, huh? Well, Kyle, you've done a good job guarding the gate. Now, can you show me the way to the estate? I'd like to see how the family's doing."

Kyle blinked, clearly still processing the fact that I was the long-lost eldest son. His bravado faltered for just a second before he straightened up again and nodded. "F-follow me, then," he stammered, sheathing his oversized dagger.

As I followed the boy through the gates, I couldn't help but wonder how much had changed during my absence. The estate loomed in the distance, its stone walls weathered but still standing tall. A strange sense of nostalgia mixed with uncertainty swirled inside me. This place was supposed to be home, but I didn't know if it still would feel that way.

"How many of us are left in the estate, Kyle?" I asked casually, trying to gauge the situation.

"Just… just Lady Mia and the servants, sir," Kyle said quietly, his small voice filled with uncertainty.

Lady Mia?

Never heard of her.

Fifteen minutes later—

On the table in front of me were humble foods—the likes of a few loaf breads, sliced tomatoes, and sausages. It was clear the territory lacked a great variety of produce, likely because of the recent war.

I glanced at the woman seated across from me at the long, grand table. She ate her food silently, with the kind of grace I expected from a noble. Her composure only heightened the unease I felt in my gut.

Who was she?

I didn't know how to begin a conversation. There was nothing in Randal's diary about having a sister, not even a cousin. It made this situation all the more confusing. How could this place feel like home when I didn't even know my own family?

I wondered, Where are Randal's parents?

My thoughts swirled as I studied the woman, trying to gather my courage. If she noticed my hesitation, she didn't show it, her eyes never leaving her plate. The silence between us stretched longer, becoming more awkward with every passing second.

I cast <I Believe> on myself—my favorite psychic-based illusion magic. In this case, it was more of a mental boost, a way to believe I could act the part. With it, I ate my share of food elegantly, mimicking the impression of nobility I had gathered from my previous life.

Thanks to the endless dramas, historical films, and all sorts of internet videos still locked away in the recesses of my mind, I could at least pretend to have the manners of an aristocrat. It was strange relying on those scattered memories, but <I Believe> had never failed me before.

I took a breath and, in my best "noble" demeanor, I carefully sliced into the sausage, trying to appear as though I had done this countless times before.

"Have confidence, me!" I cheered inwardly, pushing down the nagging worry.

Eventually, I couldn't bear the quiet anymore. I needed to know. "Lady Mia," I began, my voice sounding far more composed than I felt. "I must confess, your presence here... it is unexpected. I did not know the Dromastus family had someone like you. Could you… tell me more?"

She paused mid-bite, then slowly set down her fork. Her eyes met mine for the first time, and I could see a flicker of surprise, but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

"You don't remember, do you?" she said softly, her voice measured.

I swallowed, unsure how to respond, and for the first time, I realized how deep the secrets of this house truly ran.

I felt a wave of guilt wash over me. I wasn't truly Randal—I was just an imposter, a ghost from another world who had taken over his body. It was unsettling to be thrust into someone else's life, especially one so complicated. Crazy, I thought.

"I don't know your name," I said bluntly, deciding it was better to be upfront. "Are you my sister? My cousin? Who are you?" My tone was harsher than intended, but I realized this might actually suit Randal's personality—egoistic, self-absorbed, and prideful. From his diary, I could tell he had been the kind of person people disliked, a background character doomed to fall as cannon fodder in the grander narrative of the world.

I could imagine how he had been treated at the Academy—looked down upon by his peers, his pride chipped away bit by bit. His life seemed like one big tragedy, and now I was left to pick up the pieces. It was exhausting, trying to walk in his shoes. I almost regretted leaving the Tower of Mirage.

The woman in front of me—Lady Mia—kept her eyes on me, and I noticed her gaze quiver slightly, though I wasn't sure what it meant. It seemed I had struck a nerve.

Finally, she spoke. "I apologize. It was a test. You don't know me, and truthfully, I don't know you either. I am your distant cousin, from your mother's side of the family. The Dromastus household has fallen into ruin since the World War. My parents pulled a few strings to keep it from being erased from the aristocratic registrar. That's why I inherited the estate."

"I see…" I replied, nodding slowly. It was unexpected, but kind. Normally, extended families in noble circles wouldn't bother saving a fallen house. They'd either absorb the land for themselves or sell off what remained after looting it. Her family's actions were rare, almost unheard of.

The weight of what she said sank in. The Dromastus household was no longer the proud, knightly family it had once been. It was a shadow of its former self, barely clinging to its title, kept alive by the charity of distant relatives.

I took a deep breath, trying to process everything. "Thank you, Lady Mia. For doing what you could to save the household."

She inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment. "It was the least we could do."

A silence settled between us, and I realized I had so many more questions. What would happen now? Could I even revive the Dromastus name? And what role would I, or rather, Randal, play in all of this?

The most important question was… Did I want this?

"I take it that you have come to take the title of Baron, and that is why you are here?" Mia's tone suddenly shifted, a sharpness in her voice that hadn't been there before.

I understood where she was coming from. To her, I must have looked like some opportunist, swooping in at the worst possible time to claim the family title. I couldn't blame her for being suspicious.

"No, I have no interest in the barony," I replied, trying to ease the tension. "I don't even remember what my parents look like. I only wish to see them again… to ask for forgiveness."

And maybe, just maybe, to find a place to call home. But standing here, in the midst of what had become someone else's life, I felt like an intruder. This place wasn't mine anymore—it had never really been. "I'm sorry for intruding," I added, feeling the weight of my own words. I stopped eating and stood, ready to leave.

Mia's reaction was immediate. She jumped to her feet, panic flickering in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything bad," she stammered. "Please, call me Mia." She rushed to my side, her hand pressing against my shoulder, trying to force me to sit back down. I could have easily resisted, but I let her guide me.

"Eat," she urged, her voice softer now, almost pleading. "Wait here. I'll get something from the liquor cabinet. I'm sure you'll like it."

I sat down, watching her hurry off, still processing the shift in our conversation. It was clear she was conflicted—perhaps just as unsure about her role in all of this as I was. I picked at the food in front of me, my appetite gone, but I stayed put. For now, I would wait and see what Mia had in mind.

I ate and passed the time, my gaze wandering over the art pieces scattered around the room. There were vases, paintings, and statues, each one appearing more intricate and valuable than the last. Even without much knowledge of art, I could tell that these were special—artifacts from a more prosperous time for the Dromastus family, no doubt.

Mia eventually returned, carrying a bottle of wine with her. She seemed eager to lighten the mood. "I don't know much about appraising liquors, but I do know when something tastes good," she said as she uncorked the bottle and poured the wine into two glasses.

The smell hit me before I even touched the glass. It was fragrant and potent, and I could already tell this wine wasn't something ordinary.

"This is Fire Spirit," Mia said proudly, her eyes glinting with a bit of drunken excitement. "I bought it from dwarves passing through the territory last month."

I held the glass up, pretending to appraise it. I didn't have the faintest clue about fine liquors, but I smiled and nodded like I did. "Only veteran drinkers can handle something like this," I said, taking a small sip. As soon as the liquid touched my throat, a burning sensation followed, confirming that this drink was no joke.

Mia, her cheeks already flushed with the wine's warmth, leaned forward. "Tell me… where have you been?" she asked, her curiosity slipping past her usual composed demeanor.

I knew I couldn't tell her the whole truth. How could I explain that I wasn't actually Randel, but someone from another world who had taken over his body? Still, I had to offer something. "It all starts with me being… reborn," I began, carefully crafting my story to make sense in this world.

"One day, I woke up without any memories of my past, except for knowing my name—Randel," I said, my voice steady, weaving a lie that fit neatly into the gaps of the truth. "The only thing I had was a diary… one I assumed belonged to me."

Mia listened intently, her expression softening as I shared my fabricated tale. It wasn't the full truth, but in a way, it allowed me to unburden a part of myself. At least now, someone knew a piece of my story, even if it wasn't entirely real.