Has The Lord’s Career Chart Been Filled Today? – Chapter 95
After his hot bath, to show his solemnity in reuniting with Duke Oliver, Arte deliberately changed into the most fashionable tailcoat and fitted shirt from the capital before he left, aiming to fully display the body lines he had always prided himself on.
The cloak was made of lightweight fabric most suitable for the sweltering summer heat. Almost no seams were visible, and the edges were meticulously adorned with silver gilt, while the front was fastened with gleaming gemstone clasps.
“Such heavy rain.”
When the moment truly came to head to the castle, Arte stood frowning at the inn’s entrance, facing the relentless curtain of rain, unable to bring himself to step into the ankle-deep puddles with his freshly polished pointed boots.
“Your Excellency, perhaps I should go to the castle and request the Duke’s permission for you to arrive a bit later?” a servant suggested, thinking himself clever. “Given the Duke’s—”
“Silence.”
Arte impatiently cut him off.
He had argued fiercely with his father and endured a grueling journey to reach this wretched Laina, all for the sake of seeing his long-awaited muse as soon as possible.
How could he possibly be deterred by a mere rainstorm?
It wasn’t so much that he loathed the feeling of being soiled by mud and water, but rather that he was unwilling to appear too disheveled before Oliver.
What troubled Arte even more was that, after only a brief hesitation, the rain intensified as if mocking him, and the menacing rumble of thunder seemed to draw nearer.
The distance from the inn in the town center to the castle was certainly short, but it was more than enough to drench his meticulously prepared attire.
“So be it.”
He muttered through gritted teeth, gripping the umbrella that seemed precarious under the downpour, and stepped into the rain with his servants in tow.
Sure enough, the moment his exquisitely crafted boots sank into the puddle, they were instantly soaked.
With every step, he waded firmly through the water, the splashes and relentless sideways rain quickly drenching his fitted trousers.
Arte’s face was numb with resignation.
Having taken that first step, it was too late to worry about his appearance now.
He simply endured the clammy sensation—enough to make the delicate, pretentious nobles of the capital shriek—and resolutely strode toward the castle.
His sudden increase in pace forced the anxious servants to break into a jog to keep up.
Just as they were about to leave the town and enter the castle grounds, Arte’s peripheral vision caught a solitary, vertical silhouette high above.
It was very close, perhaps less than ten steps away.
What was that?
The thought had barely formed when he instinctively halted, turned, and looked up—
In that split second.
As the bewildered servants quickly turned to follow his gaze toward the indistinct shadow in the gray, rainy gloom, a dazzling bolt of lightning suddenly streaked across the sky!
—Lightning.
As if guided by an invisible force, the lightning, which should have wandered aimlessly, now descended with clear intent and overwhelming force, striking directly at that strange pillar.
For an instant, the dim surroundings were abruptly illuminated.
The surroundings were illuminated to a deathly pale, as if blanketed by snow, while the terrifyingly close lightning strike also revealed the stunned faces of those present—their stupor mixed with shock, their bewilderment tinged with fear.
This was, of course, not the end.
Immediately following was the thunder.
The booming roar, so near it seemed to erupt directly in their ears, left everyone’s eardrums throbbing with pain.
Yet compared to the auditory numbness from the intense sound waves, what truly made their hair stand on end and sent shivers down their spines was experiencing it all at such an alarmingly close, almost fatal distance.
“Your Excellency!!!”
Amid the panicked and distraught cries of the servants, the young noble closest to the lightning rod—undoubtedly the most delicate and fragile of nerves—was the one who fainted from the terrifying force.
When Arte opened his eyes again, he was already in a guest room of the castle.
He stared blankly at the crude, unappealing relief carvings on the ceiling, his mind alternating between complete emptiness and relentless replays of that utterly breathtaking scene—so shocking, so filled with death, danger, and beauty.
He… he had to paint it!
“Where are my painting tools!”
Driven by this thought, Arte sat up with fervent obsession, disregarding his disheveled appearance as he frantically searched for his brushes.
“Mr. Arte.”
It was that voice he had heard countless times, always cold and detached, that snapped him back to his senses.
Fosse said expressionlessly, “It seems you are fully awake now, and in good spirits.”
“Mr. Fosse.”
Although both held the title of baron, in the eyes of the capital’s society, Arte—as the son of Count Studio, who wielded considerable influence—was naturally regarded as more legitimate and noble than a baron who had risen through risking his life.
Arte, however, paid little attention to such distinctions and had even consciously tried to win Fosse’s favor—all in hopes that the rigid and stubborn man would allow him to approach the beautiful Angel Duke.
Hearing Fosse’s words, Arte completely calmed down and habitually flashed a cynical smile. “Did dear Oliver send you to bring me in? Oh, he remains as kind and beautiful as an angel!”
He certainly didn’t believe that, without Oliver’s orders, this butler—known for being “notoriously vicious” to outsiders while utterly docile within—would willingly admit him into the castle.
To Arte’s surprise, Fosse did not respond with further cold venom but instead glanced away indifferently, tacitly acknowledging his words.
Nor did he hurry off to report back to Oliver.
Arte pondered for a moment and quickly understood.
A meaningful smile crept into his expression. “So even the fearless Mr. Fosse is concerned about the developments in the capital?”
Aside from Oliver, who was gentle and kind beyond what one would expect of a powerful duke, Fosse likely also leaned toward allowing him into the castle.
The fact that Fosse was willing to pay what he considered such a steep price… suggested that the information Arte might reveal about the royal family could significantly sway the other’s thoughts.
“Since Mr. Arte has grasped this,”
In the absence of the young lord or any other servants, Fosse’s speech remained unhurried, carrying the elegant, deliberate rhythm characteristic of nobility.
But it wasn’t the usual calm and gentle tone, instead carrying a faint mockery: “It seems long-distance travel does serve to broaden one’s horizons after all.”
Oliver didn’t know this yet.
His butler was currently engaged in a highly efficient exchange of information with that… delicate libertine who, as far as he knew, had fainted from thunder – and they were doing so in a sharply confrontational manner.
In the blink of an eye, dusk had arrived again. As another day of forced idleness drew to a close, the rain finally stopped.
The setting sun lazily emerged from behind the clouds, and Oliver couldn’t help but gently pat the beautiful large cat curled up on his lap, indicating that he needed to rise.
And this large cat was remarkably intelligent – almost from the first gentle pat, it obediently slid off his lap.
This was truly…
Oliver couldn’t resist rubbing those fluffy ears again.
This texture, size, shape, and color… were simply identical to the Cat God from his dreams.
What made it even more perfect was that in his dreams, it was a handsome young man taller than himself, just with cat ears and a fluffy tail.
But the one before him was a genuine large cat!
The golden-haired lord’s inner scale suddenly tipped toward one side.
“From today onward, you’re Cat God Number Two.”
After Oliver announced this in a joking tone with a smiling face, this noble large cat with an imposing presence coincidentally lifted its head.
Its golden round pupils were deep and distant, reflecting a ray of sunlight coming through the window, making them appear even more like two lively and brilliant gemstones.
It gazed quietly at him for a long moment, then gently rubbed its cheek against his leg.
Such behavior…
…almost seemed to say that it not only understood his words but had also accepted this name.
How could that be possible?
Oliver couldn’t help but smile.
No matter how intelligent it might be, it couldn’t possibly be a real deity.
“Are you staying, or are you coming with me?” Even though he rationally knew it couldn’t understand his words, Oliver still smiled gently and patiently consulted with it: “Though it’s not exactly an interesting place.”
The large cat sat elegantly on the ground, silently watching him.
However, the moment Oliver took two steps, it swung its shimmering golden tail with an utterly natural air and closely followed him.
It had given its answer through action.
Thinking of the mud outside, Oliver helplessly stopped and looked at the completely clean cat – clearly untouched by rain or mud.
One could imagine that if he really took it out like this, it would return as a large muddy cat.
“Were you living in the kitchen before? Were you the previous lord’s pet?”
Among all the humans who couldn’t even eat their fill, looking sallow and emaciated, and even the other cat breeds recently bought from other cities appearing severely malnourished, it was simply unbelievable that this one could be so healthy and have such beautiful fur.
It tilted its head, still not making a sound, just gazing at him with focused innocence.
As if thinking, or as if ignorant and innocent, confused about what he was asking.
Oliver sighed with both happiness and frustration.
There was really no dealing with it…
“Come up then.”
After hesitating for a moment, he finally bent down.
He picked up this heavy, fluffy bundle of happiness.
Being actively embraced by his beloved believer, the newly born deity couldn’t help but fall once more into that state of unconscious yet intoxicating delight.
…… Oliver……
…… took the initiative…… to hold me……
What Oliver didn’t know was that the weight he perceived was actually the result of the deity having condensed his divine power as much as possible.
He felt relieved.
Fortunately, this large cat wasn’t mischievous or restless at all. After being picked up, it even voluntarily rested its chin on his shoulder.
The warm body not only had smooth, thick fur but was also completely relaxed.
Soft and pliable, like a delicious cat pancake.
It was incredibly docile beyond belief.
Before the butler—who “might worry about him carrying such a heavy cat”—returned, Oliver calmly carried his new golden favorite and walked toward the temporary holding area for the 18 pigs gifted by Piggs, all while enduring the astonished gazes of the servants and slaves along the way.
