Chapter 27: The Worst First Impression
Liliana stood frozen, the thick schedule still in her hands.
As a saint, she had visited many lands and met countless nobles—but never had she received such a cold, soulless welcome.
Behind her, her knightly escorts frowned in outrage, their hands twitching toward their swords. The air was tense, ready to ignite at any moment.
“…Your consideration is most… appreciated.”
It took all of Liliana’s willpower to force those words out. That her voice didn’t tremble was either due to her pride as a saint—or her simmering anger.
Whether he was oblivious to the atmosphere or simply didn’t care, Zenon continued calmly:
“You must be tired from your journey. I will not hold an inefficient banquet. However, I have prepared a meal with full consideration for nutritional balance. This way, please.”
Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel and walked toward the dining hall. There was not the slightest trace of hospitality in his demeanor.
The dining room they were shown to was spacious and clean—but astonishingly bare for a noble’s mansion.
The dishes on the table were equally simple: freshly baked bread, a hearty soup, roasted chicken, and steamed vegetables. The colors were pleasant, but compared to the grand banquets of the royal capital, this was almost humble fare.
And yet—the taste was extraordinary. Every ingredient’s flavor shone vividly, blending into a warmth that seemed to seep into her travel-worn body.
“…Delicious.”
Liliana murmured before she could stop herself.
Across from her, Zenon looked up and said without a flicker of emotion:
“Of course it is. This meal was designed based on the optimal caloric intake and nutrient balance required for an adult woman per day. It is prepared using the most efficient cooking methods for nutrient absorption. The sensation of ‘deliciousness’ is merely the brain’s rational response to a state of nutritional fulfillment.”
Liliana nearly dropped her spoon.
Even something as simple as joy over a good meal—this man reduced it to numbers and logic.
To him, eating was nothing more than a mechanical act of fuel intake.
Her appetite quickly faded.
Throughout the meal, Zenon talked incessantly—but not a word of it was small talk, nor was there the slightest attempt at warmth.
“The Arkwright territory’s agricultural output for the last fiscal year increased by two hundred and fifty percent compared to the previous year. The primary contributing factors were soil improvement and irrigation infrastructure. Here is the data.”
“Commercial tax revenue has grown by eight hundred percent on a monthly basis since the implementation of the open-market policy. Analysis attributes this to deregulation-driven market competitiveness and logistical investment.”
It was like listening to a shareholder meeting.
Liliana understood perhaps half of what he said—no, she refused to understand.
Behind all those shining figures, how many peasants had been forced into harsh labor? How many tears had been shed to create these “results”?
Every time he said “workforce” or “human resources,” she heard only the sound of someone who saw people not as living beings, but as replaceable parts in a machine.
Each word felt like a blade of ice scraping against her heart.
After the meal, the group was shown to their rooms.
Liliana was given the best guest room in the mansion—or so she was told.
But when she opened the door, she was struck speechless once more.
The room was huge, yet utterly devoid of charm.
A bed, a desk, a chair, and a simple wardrobe.
No paintings adorned the walls. No carpets brightened the floor—just a plain, functional mat.
It looked less like a noble’s guest chamber and more like a soldier’s quarters—or a monk’s cell.
“…This is far too much!”
The captain of her knights finally exploded, his patience at an end.
“To lodge Saint Liliana in such a barren room—does the House of Arkwright have no sense of propriety toward envoys of the Crown!?”
Their escort, Gray, flinched for a moment—but quickly straightened his posture and replied solemnly:
“Please, calm yourself, Captain. This is Zenon-sama’s highest form of hospitality.”
“Hospitality!? This!?”
“Yes.”
Gray spoke with absolute conviction, his eyes burning with faith in his master.
“Zenon-sama believes that excessive decoration or overly soft bedding only hinders true rest. The best sleep is achieved in an environment scientifically optimized for physical recovery. Every furnishing in this room was personally selected by Zenon-sama, based on that philosophy.”
His passionate explanation only made things worse.
The captain was speechless, jaw slack in disbelief.
Liliana, meanwhile, felt something deeper than anger—something like sorrow.
The people of this house had been completely consumed by their lord’s abnormal ideas.
They had abandoned the simple, human warmth that should come naturally.
They called kindness wasteful. Beauty, inefficient.
What a pitiful world this was.
“…That will be enough,”
Liliana said quietly.
“Thank you for your concern. I shall rest here tonight.”
Her tone was calm, befitting a saint—but within her words was a cold, unwavering resolve.
After Gray and the knights withdrew, Liliana sat alone on the plain bed.
She replayed the day’s events in her mind.
The perfectly maintained roads.
The vibrant city.
And the cold, emotionless lord who ruled it all.
This warped harmony—this discrepancy—could not be real prosperity.
The people, she thought, had been stripped of their emotions, turned into mere working machines under Zenon’s control. That must be why the town was lively, yet felt so hollow.
Otherwise, how could she explain this suffocating sense of wrongness in her heart?
“Zenon von Arkwright…”
She whispered.
“Tomorrow’s inspection—I will expose your mask. And I swear, I will free the souls of those imprisoned in this land.”
Facing the moonlight streaming through the window, she made her vow.
At that same time, Zenon sat in his study, organizing the day’s data.
On a sheet of parchment, his analysis was neatly recorded:
[Subject: Saint Liliana — Initial Contact Assessment]
- Displays a strong tendency to prioritize emotion over logic.
- Highly likely to reject objective data based on subjective impressions.
- Places great value on vague, non-rational concepts such as “hospitality” and “heart.”
[Response Strategy]
- Direct verbal communication carries a high risk of further misunderstanding.
- Limit interaction to the bare minimum; continue presenting the territory’s results dispassionately.
- The accompanying knights likely share similar thought patterns; delegate all complaints to Gray. This will be most efficient.
Zenon had no idea that Liliana had already labeled him with the words: “The worst first impression.”
To him, it was merely another piece of data—something to observe, not something to fix.
The gulf between them stretched wide as the Milky Way—deep, silent, and seemingly unbridgeable.
And neither of them had yet realized just how far apart they truly were.