The training grounds were located near the estate gym, which was strategically positioned for easy access by the stationed knights.
Naturally, a few of them had taken advantage of their allotted free time and were already present, testing out equipment and going through individual drills.
As Vanitas stepped through the doors, the atmosphere shifted almost instantly.
The clang of metal paused and conversations were cut abruptly short as all eyes turned toward him.
“….Hello?” he said, eyebrow raised.
——Lord Astrea!
The knights scrambled to attention, stopping whatever they were doing and bowing in unison. The sound of equipment hitting the floor echoed awkwardly as they straightened their posture like that of the military.
Vanitas sighed inwardly.
“At ease,” he said with a wave of his hand.
The knights hesitated for a moment, then cautiously returned to what they were doing—albeit far more stiffly than before. No one dared meet his eyes directly. The gym was quiet now.
Vanitas exhaled again, this time louder. “I’d prefer it if you all treated me like a gym buddy when we’re in here.”
There was an awkward pause.
“That’s… difficult, my lord,” one of the knights finally muttered. “You’re Lord Astrea. And the Grand Knight would kill us…”
Vanitas rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then nodded to himself.
“Alright. Let’s make this simple. This is just between us, the people who’ll be using the gym regularly. When we’re inside here, just think of me as a normal gym regular. That friendly guy who nods at you in between sets and minds his own business.”
“Uhm….”
“I’m serious,” Vanitas added. “Pretend I’m not your boss. Just a fellow guy who hates cardio and doesn’t skip leg day.”
That earned a few stifled chuckles.
“B-But… still, sir,” another knight tried, “you’re—”
“Just think of me as a friend,” Vanitas interrupted casually, rolling his shoulders. “I won’t snitch on Margaret.”
The knights blinked.
“Understood, uh… gym buddy,” one knight said, visibly trying not to grin.
“Right, buddy,” another echoed awkwardly.
Vanitas smirked. “There we go. Now don’t mind me. Keep doing whatever you were doing.”
As he made his way over to the dumbbell rack, one of the knights couldn’t help but mutter under his breath, just loud enough to be heard.
“Wow, sir… That’s quite the figure.”
Vanitas raised a brow, picking up a pair of weights.
“Is it?” he said, trying not to sound too amused. “I try to stay consistent.”
“Yes, sir,” the knight replied, clearly impressed. “It’s just… you’re a mage.”
Ah, there it was. The classic stereotype.
He couldn’t blame them. Most mages, especially ones in academic circles—weren’t exactly known for their physical upkeep.
Vanitas shrugged. “Well, think of me as the type who doesn’t follow the herd. I like to keep a good figure.
He began his set.
One of the other knights leaned in to whisper to his companion. “He’s making the rest of us look bad…”
Another chuckled under his breath. “Right? Lord Vanitas is actually as cool as the rumors say.”
They had heard plenty, how he was strict, blunt, and intimidating. But here, in the gym, there was none of that.
By the time Vanitas had finished his full routine, a light sheen of sweat coated his skin. He stood and grabbed a towel from the nearby bench, dabbing it across his face and neck.
A few knights were still sneaking glances his way—some curious, others plainly admiring the discipline he carried into even the smallest tasks.
Vanitas sat down at the edge of the sparring mat and took a long drink from his flask. Cool water filled his mouth and cut through the lingering heat in his chest.
‘Not bad,’ he thought, rolling his shoulders.
In the past, this gym had been his alone. Occasionally, the butlers would be present, but not so consistent. But now, it was filled with men who shared the same discipline and drive as Chae Eun-woo.
After a quick rest, Vanitas stood and scanned the room.
“Anyone up for a spar?” he asked casually.
The gym fell into silence.
The knights looked at one another, unsure if he was joking.
“A spar, sir?” one of them finally asked, hesitant evident in his tone.
“Yes.” Vanitas rotated his wrist, loosening his joints. “Nothing formal. Just a clean, honest sparring. First to fall or surrender.”
A few exchanged nervous glances. One knight asked, “You mean… with you?”
Vanitas raised a brow. “Is there a problem?”
“N-No, sir,” the knight stammered. “It’s just—”
“I’m not here as your lord,” Vanitas interrupted, stepping into the center of the ring. “Just a man who wants to see what his knights are made of. Anyone willing?”
The room tensed again.
Then, after a brief pause, a tall knight with broad shoulders from the back stepped forward.
“I’ll take the challenge, sir,” the knight said, bowing slightly. “If you’re offering it fairly.”
Vanitas nodded once. “Name?”
“Ervyn, sir.”
“Ervyn… alright.” Vanitas said, stepping onto the center of the sparring mat. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
They took their positions on opposite ends of the ring. Around them, several knights paused mid-exercise and watched.
Vanitas rolled his neck and loosened his stance. “Don’t hold back. If you land a hit or injure me, there won’t be any punishment.”
Ervyn blinked, slightly surprised.
“But if you hold back,” Vanitas added, his tone sharpening, “then I will be disappointed. Understood?”
Ervyn straightened, his jaw tightening. “Understood, sir.”
Vanitas exhaled slowly.
“Begin when you’re ready,” he said.
Ervyn nodded once, his stance shifting into motion.
Moments later, the spar had begun.
It had been a long time since Vanitas had physically sparred with someone. Though he’d kept up his training and maintained every technique from his past life, practicing alone was never quite the same. A real opponent was what he missed.
He wanted to test if the skills he had once honed as Chae Eun-woo, through years of military and espionage operations, still remained as Vanitas Astrea.
It didn’t take long to find out.
A shift in balance. A grip around the wrist. A pivot of the hip—
Jiu-jitsu.
Thud!
Ervyn hit the mat hard, breath knocked from his lungs as he landed squarely on his back. The room went dead silent as Vanitas stood above him.
“…Still got it,” he murmured under his breath.
Ervyn coughed once, staring up at the ceiling in disbelief. “What… was that?”
“You underestimated me,” Vanitas said flatly, offering no smile. “Because I’m a mage.”
“N-No, sir, I would never—”
“Again?”
Ervyn stared for a moment, then slowly pulled himself back to his feet.
“Yes, sir.”
They returned to their positions. Vanitas cracked his neck, then lowered his stance slightly.
“Then let’s begin properly this time.”
Ervyn gave a nod and launched forward as the real spar began.
What followed was a display none of the knights had ever seen.
Taekwondo. Karate. Capoeira. Aikido. Kyokushin Karate. Muay Thai. Krav Maga. Wing Chun. Jeet Kune Do. Systema. Vale Tudo. Hapkido. Bajiquan.
Vanitas transitioned through each form seamlessly as he flowed from one style into another. His movements were fluid, unpredictable, and completely alien to the martial systems of this world.
One moment, he was intercepting with a brutal elbow from Muay Thai.
The next, flipping Ervyn over with Aikido’s redirection of force.
Then spinning low with Capoeira, launching an unexpected sweep, only to follow up with the explosive power of Bajiquan.
And Ervyn truly tried.
But no matter how solid his footwork, how strong his guard, or how fast his reactions, Vanitas always moved a step ahead. An angle he didn’t expect. A force he couldn’t counter. A stance he couldn’t read.
And every time Ervyn requested a rematch….
Thud!
He lost.
Thud!
Again.
Thud!
And again.
Thud!
And again.
Thrown, pinned, swept off his feet, he had no answer for the strange yet brutally efficient techniques Vanitas was doing.
The knights watching from the sidelines stood slack-jawed in awe and confusion.
“Sir!” Ervyn finally cried out between heavy breaths, bracing himself after being thrown again. “With all due respect… you’ve got to be using magic, right?!”
“Do you see me muttering a chant?” Vanitas replied dryly, raising an eyebrow. “Wearing any enchantments? Holding a staff?”
Ervyn hesitated. “Well… no.”
“Exactly.”
Vanitas stepped forward and extended a hand, pulling the knight back onto his feet.
Ervyn staggered slightly, then straightened with a look of lingering disbelief.
“Your strikes, sir… They don’t feel like a mage’s,” he said, rubbing his shoulder. “Are you sure you’re not a Crusader?”
“Of course not.”
He wasn’t lying.
But the truth was rooted in his Vessel trait. It granted him the firepower, the durability, and the strength to go toe-to-toe with seasoned Crusaders in a match that didn’t utilize aura.
But the movements, the flow, the techniques were all on his own.
Technique built through years of pain, repetition, and that need to survive. Muscle memory forged during a lifetime that no longer existed in this world.
“Keep up the good work,” Vanitas said, leaving the gym shortly after.
* * *
Margaret sat up in bed, unable to fall asleep.
Unfamiliarity with the room made it difficult to relax. She glanced around. The space was immaculate and far too spacious for just one person. Moonlight spilled in through the tall windows.
She let out a quiet sigh.
Earlier that evening, she’d shared a grand dinner with her knights, courtesy of the Astrea manor’s chefs.
The entire gathering had been arranged by Vanitas himself, who had returned earlier from a three-day examination. The meal had been warm, lively, and… strangely comforting.
“….”
A subtle discomfort stirred in her lower abdomen, and she realized she needed to use the bathroom.
Margaret pushed off the covers, adjusted her nightgown, and stepped out of her room.
During her first day here, she’d found herself hopelessly lost in the manor’s endless halls and corridors. But now, albeit only slightly—she had begun to familiarize herself with the layout.
As Margaret stepped out into the hallway, she was just about to return to her room when she caught sight of a figure ascending the stairs.
“Why are you still up?” came a familiar voice.
It was Vanitas, his brows slightly furrowed as he looked her over.
“Bathroom,” Margaret replied simply.
“I see,” he said with a nod. Then, after a moment of consideration, he added, “Will you come with me for a second?”
Margaret tilted her head, curious. “Of course.”
There was no way she could refuse an order from her employer.
Without another word, Vanitas turned and led her through the manor’s quiet upper halls. They climbed to the third floor and passed through a corridor that opened up to a tall window. Vanitas pushed it open and stepped out.
Whoosh—
Beyond it was a secluded balcony, and the night breeze greeted them immediately.
Margaret stepped out beside him, her snow-white hair swaying gently with the wind.
“Is your new home to your liking?” Vanitas asked, resting his hands on the railing. “How are you settling in?”
“Yes,” Margaret replied, her gaze fixed on the quiet landscape below. “It’s great. The staff have all been kind and accommodating. Everything’s really pleasant.”
She paused for a moment, her voice becoming softer as she continued.
“My knights seem genuinely content with their new quarters and assignments. I’ve heard the others stationed in other areas are doing fine as well.”
Vanitas didn’t respond immediately, but the faint nod he gave and the relaxed set of his shoulders suggested he was satisfied. The moonlight streamed across his features, casting an ethereal glow over his face.
“By the way,” Margaret added, glancing at him with a slight smile, “I heard about what happened earlier. Is it true? That Ervyn completely lost to you in a spar?”
“They snitched, huh…” Vanitas muttered, then shrugged. “It wasn’t much. Just a regular spar with no mana involved. Honestly, I think I just got lucky. Ervyn underestimated me for being a mage.”
“Underestimated?” Margaret raised a brow. “I heard he lost more than ten times.”
“He.” Vanitas scoffed in amusement.
A moment of quiet passed before Margaret spoke again.
“How strange.”
He turned to her slightly. “What is?”
“You, Vanitas,” she said. “Since when were you good at close-combat? I remember back in the university tower… a senior once tried to pick a fight with you.”
She chuckled, clearly enjoying the memory.
“You got beaten pretty badly,” she continued. “And then you retaliated so hard they ended up dropping out of the tower entirely.”
“Oh.”
Vanitas could practically envision what happened then. The original Vanitas had, perhaps, threatened that senior to the point where dropping out was the only option left.
“Funny, huh?” Vanitas said with a slight smirk.
“With a sword, too,” Margaret said. “You were quite decent from what I saw a year ago during the festival.”
She trailed off as her eyes drifted to him again, really looking this time.
Under the moonlight, through the loose fabric of his shirt, she noticed it. His build was… different. It was more defined, his shoulders were broader, and his arms were much more toned.
“Perhaps I got tired of losing,” he said.
Margaret smiled, noticing his face. Despite everything he had accomplished, his expression hadn’t changed. Just like back then, he still seemed… afraid. But of what?
The way he looked at her was perfectly normal. Yet she couldn’t shake off the feeling. The tension in his shoulders, the rigidness in his posture… it was as if he couldn’t fully relax.
….As if he was afraid of something.
“I heard you’ve been… taking medication,” she said gently.
Vanitas looked at her, startled. “Medication?” he repeated.
“Yes.” Margaret nodded. “For stress management, I assume. Are you alright?”
“Ah…”
For a moment, Vanitas panicked.
Had she seen him? Had she caught a treatment of Yves’s prescription for the cancer he had kept hidden?
But no… she meant the anxiety and stress pills.
He exhaled quietly. That, at least, was easy to explain.
“Yes. I’m fine,” he said. “Just that… this role comes with pressure. It’s not easy juggling a lot of things at once.”
Margaret glanced at him, then smiled faintly. “Perhaps it’s not my place to say, but even someone like you can only handle so much. You should take it easy, Lord Vanitas.”
She added the title playfully, trying to lighten the mood.
“It’s a bit late for that advice,” he replied dryly. “I’m leaving tomorrow. I’ll probably be gone for a month.”
“A month?” Margaret’s brows lifted. “Where to?”
“South of Aetherion. Eldoria,” Vanitas said, resting an arm on the railing. “Part of the Imperial Professor test. I’ve been assigned to personally tutor a baron’s child.”
Margaret blinked. “That’s… quite the test. Is it common for candidates to travel that far?”
Vanitas shook his head. “No. I had the choice to pick from a pool of commissions. I picked this one.”
“Is that so?” Margaret tilted her head slightly. “Then… do you want me to accompany you? I am your knight, after all.”
“No,” he said firmly. “Stay here. Protect Charlotte in my stead.”
“Understood,” she replied with a nod. Then, after a brief pause, she added with a softer tone, “The Young Lady… she’s grown a lot, hasn’t she? I remember visiting your old home back then, with the others. That shy little girl who was too scared to even approach us.”
“….”
Vanitas stared out at the estate, the wind brushing against his face. He could picture it clearly.
Charlotte hadn’t been scared of the guests that day.
She had most probably been scared of her brother.
That same brother who had tormented her during her childhood.
But Vanitas knew better. There was no point in blaming the original Vanitas anymore.
“I bet you’re proud of her,” Margaret said gently.
“….”
His lips parted slightly, but no words came. Then the night breeze swept over them again, and in its passing….
Whoosh—
A genuine smile formed on his face.
“I am.”