I Died and Became a Noble's Heir-Chapter 373: Why?

The invitation, the healing, Father Caelen’s involvement, none of it made sense yet, and being nearly killed by Jack’s father before getting answers added layers of confusion to an already incomprehensible situation.

’Why are we here?’ Rhys thought toward Sylph. ’What could Jack possibly want from us?’

’I don’t know,’ Sylph admitted, her mental voice still carrying residual fear. ’But whatever it is, it’s significant enough that he humiliated us, healed us, and then invited us to his private study. He wants something.’

The word hung in their shared mental space with uncomfortable implications.

Then the study door opened.

Jack Kaiser entered his study with Father Caelen and S trailing silently behind him. His red eyes swept across the scene.

His father, standing beside the desk, radiated residual dark mana, while Rhys struggled to maintain composure despite the obvious recent trauma. Clyde, positioned between them, was completely outmatched, with daggers scattered across the floor. Sylph looked genuinely frightened, perhaps for the first time since manifesting.

"Father," Jack said mildly, his tone carrying no particular accusation or concern, "they’re my guests."

"So Seraphina informed me," Alaric replied, his voice losing none of its edge. "I trust you have a good reason for inviting elven royalty into our home."

Jack’s eyebrows rose fractionally as he moved to stand behind his desk, his muscles lax despite the tension filling the room. "You know who he is?"

"I do now," Alaric said, his golden eyes finding Rhys with renewed assessment. "The bastard prince of Caeloria. Maelor’s inconvenient offspring."

Rhys’s head snapped up despite still recovering from oxygen deprivation. Shock flickered across his winter-ice eyes that they would speak so openly about his parentage, about secrets that could get him killed if the wrong people confirmed them.

Father Caelen’s presence registered in Rhys’s awareness like a thunderclap. The old priest stood silently flanking the door, and suddenly the earlier revelation crashed back into focus. The White Exile. The greatest buffer to ever serve the elven throne. The man who’d saved Rhys’s life as an infant and been destroyed for it.

And now he served Jack Kaiser.

Rhys’s mouth opened slightly, a dozen questions forming, but Jack’s voice cut through before any could escape.

"Surprised?" Jack settled into his chair with casual ease and grinned at Rhys with genuine amusement. "Don’t be. I make it my business to know who I’m fighting before I accept challenges. Would’ve been embarrassing to kill you without realizing you were actually valuable."

Father Caelen showed no reaction to being in the same room as the child he’d saved decades ago. His expression remained serene, as if standing in the presence of Caeloria’s bastard prince carried no emotional weight whatsoever.

S stood opposite Father Caelen, masked and silent, radiating the same dangerous competence he’d shown when warning Charlotte Stormblood.

"Valuable," Rhys repeated hoarsely, his voice still rough from suffocation. He forced himself to stand straighter despite his legs trembling, refusing to conduct this conversation looking weak. "I’m a bastard with no claim, no support, and a stepmother who wants me dead. What value could I possibly have to you?"

"That depends," Jack said, leaning forward slightly with interest that seemed genuine, "on your ambition. Tell me, Rhys Luffiel. What are the Elven succession laws regarding a king’s sons? Legitimate or otherwise."

Rhys stared at Jack for a long moment, trying to understand where this was leading. Sylph had gone completely silent on his shoulder, and she watched the exchange with wariness.

"Men take priority over women regardless of birth order," Rhys spoke slowly, repeating lessons he knew by heart. "Direct bloodline through the father is considered essential for the throne. Daughters can inherit, but only under extraordinary circumstances. Usually, when there are no male heirs of appropriate age, or when the daughter has demonstrated such overwhelming capability that denying her would cause civil unrest."

He paused, gathering his thoughts. "There has only ever been one daughter who succeeded her father to rule in the past five hundred years. And she required unanimous approval from the entire elven council plus endorsements from three neighboring kingdoms to overcome the traditional preference for male heirs."

"And bastards?" Jack prompted.

Rhys’s jaw tightened. "Bastards require achievements. The laws don’t specify how many or what kind because the bar is deliberately high. Military victories that turn the tide of wars. Diplomatic triumphs that forge alliances. Magical breakthroughs that advance the kingdom. Demonstrations of leadership that make denying the claim politically untenable."

He took a breath; the bitterness of those memorized requirements was ingrained in him. "Enough that the elven council can’t reasonably deny the claim without looking like they’re acting purely from prejudice. But in practice, the queen controls too many council votes and has too much influence over what counts as ’achievement worthy of consideration.’ It’s a law designed to give false hope."

Alaric had been listening in silence, but now his voice cut through. "So the bastard needs to accomplish things so significant that even enemies can’t deny their worth."

"Exactly," Rhys confirmed, his winter-ice eyes finding the Duke despite his instinctive fear. "Which is why no bastard has successfully claimed the throne in living memory. The legitimate heirs and their supporters ensure that any potential achievements are either blocked before completion or minimized in importance afterward."

Jack’s hand extended across the desk, palm up in clear invitation.

"Then let me make you a proposition, Rhys Luffiel. Son of Maelor. Bastard prince of Caeloria. Contractor to Slyph."

Rhys stared at the offered hand, his mind racing to understand what was being offered before it was stated.

"I can make you the sole heir to your father’s throne," Jack said with absolute confidence that bordered on arrogance. "I can give you achievements so significant that the elven council won’t be able to deny your claim even with the queen’s interference. I can ensure that when Maelor eventually passes, it’s your coronation that the kingdom witnesses."

The words hung in the air like thrown knives.

Alaric’s expression remained neutral, but his attention focused completely on the exchange. Father Caelen and S showed no reaction. Clyde had stopped clutching his throat to stare at Jack with open disbelief.

"In exchange," Jack continued before Rhys could formulate a response, "you work for me. Not as a servant, but as an asset I can call upon when needed. And when you become king, all I ask is access to Caeloria and the right to purchase materials in bulk. I’ll pay fair prices, conduct legitimate trade, and cause no political complications. Just access and commerce."

"That’s..." Rhys’s voice failed. He tried again. "That’s insane. You’re offering to make me king in exchange for... trade agreements?"

"And your service when I require it," Jack reminded him with that same dismissive grin. "Don’t undersell your value. A king in my debt is worth considerably more than gold."

Sylph finally found her voice, though it came out smaller than usual. "Jack Kaiser, with all due respect. That’s an extraordinary claim. Making someone king requires resources, influence, and power beyond what most kingdoms can marshal. What makes you think you can actually deliver on that promise?"

Jack’s red eyes shifted to the tiny spirit, and his grin widened. "Because I am a strong individual who will change this world. Within a year, I will have my hand in all of Elysium. Within the next five years, all human kingdoms. My inventions change the world a little at a time."

His gaze returned to Rhys, "...I’m very good at accomplishing things people say are impossible. And not to mention

"Why?" Rhys demanded, emotion bleeding into his voice.