Old Man Yama's Reincarnation

Ignis had anticipated this reaction. After witnessing his training today, he knew everyone would be astonished—and this conversation was inevitable.

After showering his son with praise, Evan finally returned to his seat, his expression turning serious. "Son," he began, "I understand that at your age, it's natural to want to show off your genius. But you must learn to control it. Not everyone will see your brilliance as a gift. Some will see it as a threat."

Ignis frowned, his calm demeanor unshaken. "Father," he replied, his tone steady but firm, "you know me better than that. Do you really think I have the kind of character to seek attention? To flaunt what I can do?"

Evan opened his mouth to respond but hesitated. His son's words hung in the air, and as he truly considered them, memories surfaced. Ignis had always been composed, even as a child. He carried himself with a quiet dignity, treating everyone in the household—maids, servants, even the stable hands—with the same respect. He was not one to boast or seek the spotlight. Stability and restraint had always been his defining traits.

Before Evan could gather his thoughts, Alenna, Ignis's mother, interjected. She gave her husband a knowing look, her sharp eyes softening as they turned to her son. "What are you talking about, Lord?" she said, her voice gentle but firm. "You know our son isn't like that. He's never been one to show off."

Evan let out an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ha… Ha… You're right. I shouldn't have said that. It was completely unnecessary."

Ignis's expression softened, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It's alright, Father. You were only thinking of my well-being. I understand."

Evan exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing. His son's wisdom and maturity never ceased to amaze him. Even at such a young age, Ignis carried himself with the poise of someone far older, someone who had seen far more of the world than his years suggested.

After a moment of silence, Evan leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "Son," he said, his voice thoughtful, "you've read many books, including fiction. Tell me, what is the common warning given to geniuses in these stories?"

Ignis furrowed his brows, his gaze drifting to the tea cup on the table. He didn't need long to think. "The warning can be summed up as—'A genius who doesn't grow up isn't a genius at all.'"

A satisfied smile crossed Evan's face. "Exactly. That's why I announced that you've been training under me for a month before stepping onto the training ground today. From now on, you'll only eat with your mother for safety. Who knows who might try to poison you? As a Vitalist, she can detect any harmful substance before it reaches you."

Ignis absorbed his father's words carefully, his mind already piecing together the implications. After a brief pause, he spoke cautiously. "From the way you talk, it sounds like you're wary of Count Drayven. Your relationship with him… it doesn't seem to be on the best of terms. Otherwise, you wouldn't be this cautious."

Evan's expression darkened, a shadow passing over his features. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. "We are not brothers. Not friends. At least, not anymore. I am merely his subordinate now. A strong subordinate is a source of comfort in difficult times. But in times of peace…" He trailed off, his gaze distant. "That same strength becomes a threat. It breeds suspicion."

He left it at that, saying no more. But Ignis understood. He understood all too well. In his past life, as Yamamoto Genryūsai, the commander of the Gotei 13, he had seen the weight of power and politics firsthand. He had witnessed how trust could erode, how alliances could crumble under the weight of paranoia and ambition. His father's words were not just a warning—they were a reflection of a truth Ignis had known for centuries.

Evan sighed, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the room. "Okay, son, let's leave this topic for now. Are you ready to go to the party?"

Ignis tilted his head slightly, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Yes, Father. And do I even have a choice in this matter? The Count himself has requested my presence. Refusing isn't exactly an option."

Evan nodded, his expression a mix of pride and resignation. He knew the weight of the Count's invitation—and the implications it carried.

Alenna stepped forward, her voice warm but firm. "Alright, son, go and rest for a few hours, you must be tired after training today. We'll leave for the party afterward. Your new clothes are ready, and you'll wear them tonight. I'll have Anna bring them to you."

Ignis nodded, recognizing the name. Anna, the head maid, was efficient and reliable. Without another word, he left the parlor, his footsteps echoing softly as he made his way to his room.

---

The Count's mansion was a spectacle of grandeur, its towering structure illuminated by countless lanterns and torches that cast a golden glow across its facade. The night seemed to enhance its magnificence, the flickering lights reflecting off the polished stone and intricate carvings that adorned the estate.

Evan arrived with his wife, Alenna, on his left, and Ignis walking between them. The trio moved with a quiet dignity, their presence commanding attention even before they reached the entrance. The guards stationed at the gates bowed deeply, their voices respectful as they greeted, "Grand Commander, welcome."

Evan acknowledged them with a curt nod, his demeanor calm but authoritative. Together, they stepped into the mansion, the opulent interior a testament to the Count's wealth and influence. They made their way to the grand hall, where the party was in full swing. The air was thick with the hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the soft strains of music playing in the background.

Evan and Alenna began greeting the other nobles, their movements graceful and practiced. Ignis followed suit, his young face composed as he offered polite greetings to each noble he encountered. Despite his age—only six years old—his manners were impeccable, a reflection of the rigorous etiquette training he had received from his mother.

The nobles, for their part, responded with equal politeness. While Evan was not of noble birth, his status as a 4-Star Knight commanded respect. His strength was formidable, and whispers of his potential to break through to the 5-Star rank circulated among the elite. Such an achievement would place him second only to the Duke in the Lunar Kingdom's hierarchy, a fact that was not lost on the assembled guests. Their politeness was not just a matter of courtesy but also a calculated acknowledgment of Evan's rising influence.

As Ignis moved through the crowd, he couldn't help but notice the subtle undercurrents of tension and ambition that flowed beneath the surface of the festivities. The nobles' smiles were polished, their words carefully chosen, but their eyes betrayed their true thoughts. It was a world of power and politics, one that Ignis was beginning to understand all too well.

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