Let me set the scene.
A storm is brewing over House Reinhardt. Not outside—that would be helpful. No, this is a political storm. The kind where people smile too much and bow too low, and someone always ends up poisoned or betrothed. Sometimes both.
Inner Me: Why do I feel like today I'll end up emotionally damaged and mildly caffeinated?
The Grand Tea Room was a thing of terrifying beauty. Gold-framed mirrors lined the walls, reflecting too much judgment. The chandeliers dripped with crystals that tinkled ominously, like they knew something I didn't. Plush velvet chairs surrounded a polished obsidian table inlaid with delicate floral carvings—probably symbolizing "yes, we're rich and vaguely threatening."
This was the setting for my "private tutoring session" with Master Thaddeus Thornfield. A man whose name sounds like it came from a discount fantasy name generator and whose eyebrows could declare war independently of his face.
He was seated when I entered, sipping tea like it owed him money.
"Ah, young Lord Kael," he said, his voice like molasses coated in fake sincerity. "Let us begin."
---
Topic of the Day: Imperial Etiquette and Subtle Betrayals.
A.K.A. How to Say 'Screw You' Using Only A Napkin Fold.
Master Thornfield opened a scroll so long it deserved its own footnotes.
"In the presence of high nobility, one must always bow at a 34-degree angle. 33 is offensive. 35 is suggestive."
Inner Me: Great. One wrong nod and I'm either insulting a duke or proposing marriage to his horse.
He continued, now demonstrating how to sip tea with "controlled aloofness."
"Too eager and you appear desperate. Too slow and you imply boredom."
"What happens if I just chug it?"
He blinked.
I did not.
Belladonna, watching from the corner while chewing what I hoped was licorice, muttered, "Do it."
I didn't. For now.
Thornfield moved on to political dinner seating arrangements, which apparently have the complexity of ancient necromantic circles.
"If you place the Baroness of Thune next to the Duke of Vellor, the wine may curdle."
"Because they hate each other?"
"Because of the restraining order."
Good to know.
---
And then, the tutor tried to kill me.
Okay, not literally.
But he brought out The Tea.
Not just any tea. No. This was "Leaf of Whispering Vow," which sounds like a fancy drink but tastes like betrayal mixed with regret.
"Do try it," he said with a smile that deserved an exorcism.
I sniffed it. It smelled like lies.
I drank anyway, because I'm brave.
And also because Belladonna was watching and I had to maintain what little pride I had left.
Instantly, I saw colors. And by colors, I mean memories.
---
FLASHBACK: Kael's Reincarnation Application Review (Probably)
Celestial Bureaucrat 1: "This one's sarcastic."
Celestial Bureaucrat 2: "He died saving a kid. Give him noble blood."
CB1: "Should we give him a working system?"
CB2: "Nah, let's see what he does with sarcasm and social trauma."
---
Back in the present, Thornfield leaned forward.
"Now that your mind is... open... let us discuss alliances."
Ah. There it was. The treason.
He launched into some nonsense about alternative suitors, possible rebellions, secret heirs, and "new orders rising."
Inner Me: Did I just get recruited into a coup during tea time?
He mentioned my system. Called it "anomalous." He wanted to "study" it. I've read enough scrolls to know that's code for "slice open your brain like a melon."
---
I played dumb. It's not hard.
I nodded politely. Sipped more betrayal tea. Said things like "Intriguing" and "Do go on" while mentally screaming.
Then I executed The Escape Plan.
I tipped my teacup. Gasped. Clutched my stomach. Collapsed dramatically.
Belladonna shrieked, "HE'S BEEN POISONED!"
And threw a vial at Thornfield.
It exploded in sparkles and mild shame.
---
Later, in the infirmary (which I visited mostly for dramatic flair), Seraphina showed up.
She stared.
"Was it necessary to fake your death in the tea room?"
"Would you have preferred I join the coup?"
"...Carry on."
She left me a cookie. Belladonna brought me sarcastic get-well balloons. I appreciated both.
Inner Me: Survived another assassination by etiquette. Nice.
---
BONUS EPISODE: "Chapter 10.5 – Because Why Not"
[Location: Somewhere between the End of the Chapter and the Next Poor Life Choice]
Narrator-Kael, probably hiding in a teacup:
> Congratulations, dear reader.
You made it to the end of Chapter 10.
Was it the explosive revelations? The chaos? The slow-burn romantic trauma?
Or did you just scroll really fast pretending to read while sipping cola and avoiding real-world responsibilities?
> (Inner Me: If you're reading this at 2 AM with no pants on... same.)
---
DIPLOMACY QUIZ (Kael-Edition™):
Let's test if you've learned anything so far.
Q1: If a sacred cupcake explodes at a royal banquet, what do you do?
A) Cry.
B) Call Belladonna.
C) Pretend it was performance art and demand applause.
D) All of the above while slowly backing out of the room.
Q2: How many noble houses does it take to ruin one teenager's life?
A) One.
B) Four.
C) However many your grandmother can drunk-diplomacy her way through.
D) You'll find out by Chapter 20.
Q3: How do you defeat an assassination attempt via haunted soup spoon?
A) Scream.
B) Ask it politely to haunt someone else.
C) Trade it to Belladonna for a potion.
D) Let Seraphina fight it like it dishonored her ancestors.
---
SYSTEM UPDATE:
> Warning: Excessive sass levels detected.
Your MC is now 78% sarcasm, 12% noble obligation, and 10% pastry trauma.
Suggestion: Send cookies. Or therapy. Or both. Preferably not poisoned this time, Belladonna.
---
READER INTERACTION CORNER :
Hey you. Yes, YOU.
Why haven't you dropped a comment yet?
Is it because you're shy?
Is it because you're still trying to understand what just happened?
Is it because your jaw's still dislocated from laughing during Chapter 5's teacup duel?
Drop a comment.
Roast a noble.
Write "Belladonna is chaos incarnate."
Or just say, "I survived Chapter 10 and all I got was this mildly cursed afterword."
> (Inner Me: And if you don't comment... I'll write you into the story as a dramatic noble rival with a tragic backstory involving haunted jam.)
---
NEXT TIME, ON "THE REINCARNATED SAINT WHO JUST WANTS TO NAP":
I survive a political banquet hosted by a goose-themed duchess.
Seraphina slices a cake with a sword named Justice.
Belladonna invents romantic smoke bombs. On accident. Again.
The system tries to be useful. Fails. Dramatically.
I eat a suspicious tart and temporarily gain the ability to speak... in interpretive dance.
> (Inner Me: Please send help. And mint tea. Preferably unenchanted.)
---
> End of Bonus Scene.
You may now scroll responsibly. Or chaotically. Your call.
This content was rated "N" for Noble Nonsense.