I Died and Became a Noble's Heir-Chapter 346: Who is it now?

Jack led Lady Starfell through the manor’s entrance, his hand still resting possessively on her waist.

Zephyros’s blessing amplified every sensation until his awareness of her curves, her warmth, her scent became almost overwhelming.

The transformation had altered more than just his eyes and power; it had awakened something profound inside of him, something that enjoyed the hunt, the manipulation, the moment before the trap snapped shut.

Lady Starfell melted against his side, her petite frame fitting perfectly as they moved through the hallways. Her amber eyes sparkled with triumph behind false demureness.

She thought she was winning. Though her beauty and curves had ensnared the young duke’s heir.

She had no idea what was coming.

Servants pressed themselves against walls as they passed, bowing deeply. But Jack caught their expressions, the sideways glances, the barely suppressed smirks, the knowing looks exchanged between maids who recognized exactly what was about to happen.

Behind them, the sounds of the celebration continued. But a new energy rippled through the gathered nobles, whispers spreading like wildfire through dry grass.

Near the fountain, Lord Dustpire refilled his wine glass and leaned toward Lord Arydn to chat.

"Well," Dustpire’s voice carried just loud enough to be overheard by nearby nobles, "the boy certainly doesn’t waste time, does he?"

Arydn’s scarred knuckles tapped against his own glass. "He’s securing alliances; it’s a smart way to keep people under his thumb."

"Smart politics," Lady Mistfang echoed from where she stood with Lady Veyra, her silver-blonde hair catching the lantern light. "Is that what we’re calling it now?" Her smoky voice echoed.

Lady Veyra’s honey-colored hair shifted as she turned to watch Jack and Starfell disappear into the manor. Her deep blue eyes sparkled as she was deep in thought.

"He’s the heir to the most powerful duchy in Elysium," Veyra said softly. "It’s not just his right, it’s practically his duty to secure multiple children."

"Especially for a Chosen one," Arydn added, his bass rumble carrying absolute certainty. "Divine blessing demands propagation. The gods select specific bloodlines for their own reasons. Those bloodlines should be strengthened, expanded, and secured against the vicissitudes of fate."

Dustpire nodded enthusiastically, his round face flushed with wine. "Precisely! Look at history. Every great Chosen One had multiple wives, multiple children. It’s not indulgence, it’s a necessity. One wife dies in childbirth? The bloodline continues through others. One child proves unsuitable? There are alternatives. It’s survival."

"And he’s what, sixteen?" Lady Mistfang smiled playfully. "Starting early shows wisdom. By the time he’s thirty, he could have a dozen children from the finest bloodlines in the kingdom. Each one a potential heir, each one a living alliance with powerful houses."

"The Sunblade betrothal still stands," Veyra observed, her tone carefully neutral. "But betrothals are contracts of priority, not exclusivity. Especially not for someone of Jack Kaiser’s demonstrated capability."

Near them, a younger noble, perhaps twenty, with the idealistic righteousness of someone who still believed in romantic love, shifted uncomfortably. "But isn’t it... I mean, Lady Starfell is right there, and he’s betrothed to..."

"To Aurora Sunblade, who will be his first wife and primary heir-bearer," Lady Mistfang interjected harshly. "That doesn’t preclude secondary marriages, formal mistresses, or strategic affairs that produce legitimized children. This is nobility, boy. We build dynasties, not fairy tales."

The young noble’s mouth worked soundlessly, his romantic notions crashing against the stern reality of high politics.

"Besides," Dustpire added with a wink, "the lad just killed fifteen thousand mercenaries and humiliated a dragon. If that doesn’t earn him the right to enjoy some feminine company, I don’t know what does. Let him celebrate his victory properly."

Laughter rippled through the group, approving and utterly unsurprised by Jack’s actions.

Octavia had been speaking with a merchant consortium representative when she noticed Jack leading Lady Starfell toward the manor. The conversation died mid-sentence, her composure cracking as she watched her brother’s hand rest possessively on the petite noble’s waist.

’What is he doing?’ The thought blazed through her mind with alarm that bordered on panic.

She excused herself, her stride eating up distance as she followed them into the manor. Her mind raced through complications.

------

Since birth, Octavia had been trained in politics, economy, philosophy, mathematics, literature, history, riding, swordsmanship, and torture. If she were born a man, she would have been named the heir without question.

And being so smart meant she could also see ahead of other nobles by 4 moves most of the time. The only exception to this rule was the soft spot for her family.

-----

First, there had been that moment with Seraphina weeks ago, the way Jack looked at her, the tension that crackled between them like static electricity before a storm. Octavia had noted it, filed it away as something to monitor.

But now Starfell?

’Is he collecting women like Father collects swords?’ She thought deeply. ’Does he understand the political complications of juggling multiple noble houses’ daughters?’

She reached the hallway just in time to see Jack guide Starfell into a private study. The door closed, and two figures materialized from the shadows like vengeful spirits.

Seraphina stood to the left of the door; her expression was blank, just like she was a rock. Her gaze tracked Octavia as she approached. She cracked a small smile. She’d probably known Octavia was following from the moment they’d entered the manor.

S stood to the right, his massive frame making the hallway feel smaller. The demon’s presence was unique, but he didn’t feel like a demon to anyone else.

Neither spoke. They stood guard with the absolute certainty that nothing would pass them without Jack’s permission.

Octavia stopped perhaps ten paces away, her analytical mind cataloging the situation with growing alarm. ’He posted guards. This isn’t some spontaneous tryst... this was planned. What is he...’

Footsteps echoed from the main entrance.

Octavia turned, and her heart dropped into her stomach.

Cassius Sunblade entered first, Duke Alaric’s oldest friend, a man whose reputation as both warrior and statesman preceded him like a herald announcing royalty.

Behind him came Lady Sunblade, Aurora’s mother. She moved with the effortless grace of someone born to high nobility, her elegant gown the color of the morning sky, with a gorgeous smile plastered on her face.

Then Aurora herself. The most beautiful woman in Elysium, one of the Six Flowers, Jack’s betrothed. Her pale blonde hair seemed to glow in the hallway’s lantern light, and her face carried that ethereal quality that made grown men forget their own names.

But it was her silence that always struck Octavia, the divine curse that had stolen her voice, leaving only graceful hand gestures that her mother could translate.

Aurora’s hands moved quickly, trying to say something. While Lady Sunblade was interpreting, Violet Sunblade came running through the door. Aurora’s younger sister by a decade.

’Oh no,’ Octavia’s internal voice was remarkably calm considering the absolute catastrophe unfolding. ’Oh no, no, no. Jack is in that room with another woman, and his betrothed just walked into the hallway. This is... this is...’

Her mind spun through damage control scenarios as fast as she could.

Could she intercept them? Redirect their attention? Claim Jack was conducting urgent business that couldn’t wait?

But even as she considered options, she knew the truth. Seraphina and S, standing guard outside a closed door, sent one very clear message. And the Sunblade family was too politically experienced not to understand exactly what that message was.