Adam concluded his day of study, and by four or five in the afternoon, he departed from the Reflection Tower.
Macallan was already waiting outside the Clock Tower, seemingly keeping a dutiful watch by the carriage. Yet Adam could distinctly detect his scent lingering on the window beside the tower.
Not long ago, the man had been perched on the windowsill, trying to observe the inside of the tower. If one were to inspect, they would notice that the windowsill was unusually clean, as if someone had just been there.
"Let's pay a visit to the Rom family," Adam instructed as he boarded the carriage, once again imposing that familiar pressure upon Macallan's mind.
Macallan drove the carriage, daring not to look back. Despite the carriage curtain blocking his view, he refrained from glancing behind him, as though the one seated behind him were not a mere youth, but Lord Doug himself... or even something more terrifying.
Yet this pressure was precisely calibrated, causing Macallan to feel fear without pushing him to act recklessly.
However, this pressure would accumulate, and Adam suspected that, once it reached its breaking point, Macallan would either collapse entirely or face a choice: to surrender and reveal everything, or to take desperate measures to eliminate the source of his anxiety.
From the moment Adam had sensed the driver's inexplicable hostility, he had considered both Macallan and his unknown associates as potential threats.
And for such potential enemies, there was but one course of action—disrupt their rhythm, weaken their resolve.
"Though, for me, it matters more that he makes the first choice," Adam thought, gradually easing the pressure, shifting his aura into a gentler form.
The release of pressure caused Macallan to break into a cold sweat, as though he had awoken from a nightmare. The world around him grew clearer—familiar streets, familiar reins, familiar old companions. In that moment, it felt as if he had been reborn.
"Mr. Adam... Could it be... that you're a noble lord?" Macallan found it difficult to describe Adam in any other terms. He instinctively associated nobles with inherent superiority, powers far beyond those of common men.
In addition, only those blessed with divine radiance, the holy men, could wield such special abilities.
A sense of unease overcame Macallan. He had been merely a coachman for the Rom family—his father had been one, his grandfather too.
From the moment he was born, everything in his life had been tied to the Rom family, from cradle to grave. If all went as expected, his son would follow the same path, and even his grandson would too.
Yet, something about seeing Walker follow Lord Doug had sparked feelings of both envy and resentment within him.
The coachman for the Rom family should have been him. He should have been the one driving for Lord Doug. And the one trailing Doug should have been him too.
When young Master Matt approached him with a request, Macallan had agreed, hoping that one day he too might drive for Matt and walk in the wake of his master's steps.
Macallan, caught between dreams of a better future and an inexplicable dread, held the reins and whip without trembling, convinced that he was the finest coachman of the Rom family.
The carriage arrived at the Rom estate, and Adam pulled back the curtain, his gaze falling on Macallan.
"You drive with great skill; you're an excellent coachman. I'll be sure to praise you to Lord Doug," Adam said, and Macallan straightened his posture at the compliment.
Though Macallan was indeed a good coachman, he was still just a coachman.
Arriving at the front gate, Adam rang the bell and produced the card from the gift box, his eyes turning to the estate. A few birds hopped along the branches of a tree, and as Adam approached, they glanced at him.
With the card's aid, Adam was swiftly ushered inside and met with David, one of the three housekeepers of the Rom estate. David, currently learning from his father—the head butler—would soon inherit the position upon his father's retirement.
Most servants in noble families followed the same tradition: the work passed from father to son, with many spending their entire lives within the estate. For them, the estate was everything.
Adam followed David through the estate, and as they passed beneath the tree, the birds chirped. Neither of them paid much attention. Adam observed the servants around him, noting their lives shaped by the limits of the time and world they inhabited.
To most people in this era, the idea of a noble servant was superior to that of a commoner. Their world consisted solely of the estate, never questioning what lay beyond. The same could be said for many outside the estate—locked within the confines of their lives, rarely considering anything beyond.
For them, life seemed quite satisfactory.
"Yet I refuse to accept this," Adam thought inwardly, though his expression remained unchanged.
For most people, their lives were predetermined from birth. In both past and present lives, this was true. In the past, with stronger productivity and no extraordinary powers, it was easier for commoners to transcend their origins. In this world, however, it was far more difficult.
If one was born a servant, they served the noble, their station sealed. If born a commoner, they worked to make a living. If born a slave, they obeyed orders and remained slaves until death.
If born an outsider, they survived in the shadows, becoming monsters awaiting their eventual fate at the hands of the Church.
Adam smiled faintly as he entered the Rom family mansion, following David up to the second floor, where Doug stood waiting at the top of the stairs.
"Master Adam, welcome," Doug greeted him with a warm smile, quickly noticing the book in Adam's arms but offering no remark. "Please forgive my frailty; I am unable to greet you at the door."
"Lord Doug, you're too kind," Adam replied, following him into the study.
He noted that Doug's coachman was trailing closely behind, never too far from the two of them. Adam gave the tall coachman another glance.
With neatly combed black hair, stubbled cheeks, and an appearance similar to a knight's—his posture and mannerisms impeccably disciplined—he reminded Adam of the teachings he had received about knights.
Knights, particularly those of the combat-focused schools, integrated their training into every movement of daily life, preparing to unleash their full strength at any moment.
Adam's own path, the Heart of Life, was not a combat style in the strictest sense. However, due to its widespread use and adaptability, many used it in battle.
True combat schools focused solely on martial prowess, not prolonged life. They pursued greater strength, devastating power, and swifter killing methods. Usually, these knights served in armies or as personal bodyguards for nobles.
Noticing Adam's gaze, Walker turned to meet his eyes but said nothing.
Adam tightened his grip on the spellbook, offering a polite smile.
Inside the study, Adam and Doug exchanged pleasantries, with Adam expressing his gratitude and Doug dismissing it as no more than a small gift. The evening was drawing near, and Doug suggested Adam stay overnight at the estate.
Looking out at the birds outside, Adam hesitated.
At that moment, the door to the study was abruptly opened.
Two birds called out in the distance, and Adam turned to see a middle-aged man.
"What are you doing here?" Doug's expression immediately darkened, his voice stern as he snapped, "Leave! Can't you see we have guests?"
Doug's frustration was clear—he was dissatisfied with his son, as he had been with all his children. This desire for immortality was partly to prolong his life until the next generation matured.
But Doug knew that Matt must never learn of the immortality elixir. If the foolish son discovered it, it could cause untold problems.
Matt glanced at Adam, then at his father's furious face. His expression twitched before he silently turned and left.