Chapter 87: A Name for Two Worlds

Bliss Moore’s position within the Aitoolia Empire, and not just the Moore family, had always been a delicate one. His name consistently sparked debate whenever people discussed the ‘strongest Esper,’ rather than merely the ‘best Esper,’ in Aitoolia.

Considering only his Esper rank and rarity, the title of ‘strongest Esper in the Empire’ seemed fitting. However, many regarded him as a step below Victor Frankl, who also held an SS rank.

In truth, most of Shadow’s abilities were covert. It was perhaps natural to compare Victor Frankl, whose powers offered dazzling visual spectacle, with Bliss, who primarily wielded water-based abilities apart from his Shadow skills.

Furthermore, unless Espers constantly advertised their ranks, the distinction between Bliss, who lacked a Guide, and Victor Frankl, who had one, appeared even more pronounced to the general public.

Victor Frankl’s role as the leader of the Procyon Unit, an Esper force responsible for urban security, also contributed to this perception, as he frequently appeared in public, showcasing his abilities.

Among commoners who boasted of their Esper knowledge, it was almost a given that Bliss Moore’s lineage—his background from the Aitoolia Empire’s most prominent family—was the primary reason he could compensate for his perceived lack of ability, allowing him to stand on par with, or even slightly above, the commoner Victor Frankl.

Indeed, a similar situation played out within his own family, the Moore family. There, it was not merely the public’s simple logic of power, but a complex web of internal dynamics, giving it a far more insidious undertone.

“Ahem… Lord Bliss’s abilities seem to have become more refined.”

Breaking the frozen silence, one elder murmured a sycophantic compliment. In response, another elder, addressing Annabelle, subtly mocked Bliss with a jest.

“But iced tea for old folk like us, already? I do hope Lord Bliss will be more considerate next time.”

Annabelle watched Ethan naturally take the seat beside Bliss, as if it were his rightful place. She forced a smile, struggling to hide the frown that threatened to mar her features.

“My son is simply so proud, always saying ‘you are the best’ every day. It’s my oversight.”

“Haha, it’s only natural to think so, considering the Moore family’s direct lineage are all Secondary Manifestations and S-rank Espers.”

A noble, having just uttered an empty compliment, summoned a servant. As they were about to instruct the servant to discard the cooled tea and reheat the cups, Bliss, who had been listening to their hollow conversation, interjected.

“Since when has the tea served by the family head been specially prepared to account for the vassals’ chronic ailments and age?”

“…!!”

“Lord Bliss, you seem quite passionate. You are not yet the family head.”

The elder, who had been conversing with Annabelle, calmly pointed this out. His eyes, sneering as if to suggest Bliss was desperate for the succession merely because his abilities had grown stronger, resembled a serpent’s. Yet, Bliss responded with his usual arrogant tone.

“This tea is a specialty personally sent by His Excellency Marquis Douglas Moore from the South, for business reasons. While it’s pleasant warm, it’s said that drinking it chilled is best, given that region is even hotter than Ashilton.”

It was a lie. While it was true Bliss had arranged for the tea to be set out beforehand, it was simply a high-grade green tea Ethan had wanted to try. It was a tea that needed to be consumed without milk, making it somewhat polarizing. However, knowing Ethan would likely be tense in such an awkward setting, Bliss had worried that constantly moistening a dry throat with milk tea might lead to discomfort.

Ethan struggled to suppress his laughter, watching Bliss dramatically leverage Ilwol’s action of lowering the room’s temperature and turning the tea cold, all without a single change in his expression.

“This meeting was convened by the Council of Elders. Asserting the authority of the family head does not seem appropriate.”

“If you’re trying to be humorous, I’ll laugh. But which is more appropriate: the family head suggesting everyone drink the same tea during a meeting, or struggling to avoid even a single cup of the family head’s tea?”

“…”

No longer plagued by headaches, Bliss deftly parried each of their twisted verbal jabs. Gone was the man who spoke as little as possible, claiming speech itself made his head throb, and who dismissed anything troublesome.

Annabelle, sensing this change, bit her lip. Instead of maternal pride, she felt a surge of anxiety as the very instrument she had so favorably used to assuage her own insecurities now moved with sudden, strong will.

“You’re being too sharp over a cup of tea. For the first cup, let’s drink it as is, out of respect for His Excellency the Marquis who sent it, and Lord Bliss who chilled it. For the next, I, as the mistress of the Moore family, shall provide a suitably fine tea.”

Watching her mediate, subtly emphasizing ‘the mistress of the Moore family,’ Ethan let out a soft sigh. She wasn’t looking at Bliss with a mother’s eyes, but with the gaze of a competitor, or perhaps a valuable commodity. Feeling a renewed pang of pity for Bliss, who must have stoically endured such looks all this time, Ethan gently placed his hand over Bliss’s on the armrest.

Bliss flinched, turning his gaze for the first time. He slowly studied Ethan’s hand and then his face, as if committing them to memory, before offering a gentle smile.

“Oh!” Short gasps erupted from various corners of the room. People had occasionally remarked that Bliss Moore seemed more human since finding his Guide, but some elders and vassals who didn’t frequently interact with him were witnessing Bliss smile for the very first time.

“…Even as acting family head, I hope you will restrain your personal feelings regarding the agenda we’ve gathered to discuss today.”

An elegant noblewoman, seated among the elders, spoke. She was from the Constantine family, a woman who had been cooperating with Annabelle to push her granddaughter into becoming Bliss Moore’s official wife. Her son, Count Howell Constantine, also sat among the vassals, his eyes gleaming sharply.

“I’m not sure how personal feelings can be excluded when the agenda itself concerns me and my companion, but let’s hear it.”

“With the agreement of nine out of twelve elders, this matter has been submitted as an agenda item for the Council of Elders. The content states that we must ‘discuss the marriage of the next family head to lead the Moore family, determine the Guide’s position, and provide suitable status.’”

As the noble presenting the agenda announced the details, Ethan and Bliss’s lips curved obliquely in the same direction. A chill seemed to emanate from them, their expressions identical despite no apparent intention, making those holding their breath to observe their reactions feel a shiver of unease.

“So, because Bliss has regained his senses, he should marry into a family that would benefit us, and the Guide will be given a reasonably good job to keep them nearby. Since their face is already known both domestically and abroad, we’ll create a suitable noble status to save the Moore family’s reputation. That’s roughly what this means, isn’t it? Surely you’re not suggesting I live as a s*ave to work, like Philip?”

Ethan said, smiling at Bliss. He hadn’t spoken loudly, but in the silent meeting hall, where not a single breath was audible, his words were more than clear enough.

“How… how dare you…!”

“Dismissed, because it’s a family that benefits *them*, not me. I agree that Ethan Prescott is a talent even His Highness Herace covets, and we should secure him. But if I’m taking my Guide as my companion, why should I consider the Moore family’s reputation? Ethan Prescott is to become ‘Ethan Prescott Hanlan Moore.’”

“…!!!”

The noble, who had been about to rise in anger at Ethan, froze in an awkward crouch, eyes wide with shock. Allied families of the Moore line were permitted to use ‘Moore’ as a middle name. Even now, signatures on crucial family documents, such as ‘Arthur Moore Swan,’ demonstrated how profoundly proud and honorable their root name, ‘Moore,’ was.

This made the revelation even more shocking. While the preceding statements were somewhat anticipated, the latter remark was utterly unimaginable. Even Ethan stared blankly at him, having never heard such a thing before.

To be precise, the name Bliss wished to bestow was ‘Ethan Prescott Han Moore.’

Perhaps sensing that he could now speak freely about the things Ethan had glossed over while explaining too much at once, the Dongja ghost continued to chatter about the ‘previous world.’

Piecing together the sporadic, out-of-context bursts of information, it seemed the ‘previous world’ Ethan came from had the same fundamental structure as the one he now inhabited, differing only in its progression. It was precisely because the two worlds were so strikingly similar that Ethan had believed, until relatively recently, that he had merely traveled through time.

For Ethan, who had come to him from a world that was the same yet utterly foreign, Bliss wished to preserve elements of that world here. The name Ethan would receive upon their marriage was one such element.

However, ‘Han’ could not be included. While it was a name that could instantly elevate Ethan to unparalleled nobility, its inclusion was so significant that the Moore family could be branded as traitors. This was why ‘Hanlan’ had been conceived.

“You mean to use a commoner’s surname as a middle name! And what in the world is Hanlan?!”

Annabelle shrieked, her face a mask of horror, as if the mere thought was unbearable.

Bliss offered a bitter smile at her hysterical reaction. He wondered, idly, what kind of uproar she would cause if she, who so vehemently championed ‘lineage,’ were to learn of Ethan Prescott’s true heritage.

“Some wish to cherish and remember their roots. Hanlan is the emblem for the individual seal Ethan will use within the Moore family from now on.”

Bliss stared intently at his mother, who had desperately chosen ‘Moore’ to erase ‘White.’ Though he was born of her, her self-pity and attachment were incredibly strong—far more so than any maternal affection—leading her to regard Bliss as merely a premium product, labeled ‘son.’ He, too, felt no particular affection for his mother. The one Bliss cherished more than his parent was Marquis Douglas Moore.

Ethan idly traced the rim of his newly provided teacup. For some reason, he felt as though tears might suddenly well up.

Everyone present was reminded of ‘White,’ a name Ethan never wanted to recall again. That very statement, which made Marchioness Annabelle Moore tremble with shame, was, to Ethan, a perfect and heartwarming act of consideration.

“Th-that’s quite… I can’t quite get used to it…”

The vassals, who had been gaping in shock at Bliss’s actions, coughed awkwardly and shook their heads. The Council of Elders had, through their agenda, made it a foregone conclusion that Bliss would marry someone else. While they expected him to object, his explicit declaration of a middle name and even a symbol was utterly unfamiliar. No matter how they looked at it, the man showering Ethan Prescott with gifts and events, clearly eager to impress him, was indeed Bliss—the same man once known as the Empire’s coldest noble.

“Please, compose yourselves. Lord Bliss’s ‘charming’ events are concerns for when a marriage actually takes place. Surely a commoner Guide wouldn’t harbor such fantasies as claiming the Moore family name.”

At the Constantine family elder’s words, the stirred atmosphere in the hall gradually settled. Ethan, who had been idly touching his teacup, swallowing back tears that threatened to spill from emotion, now found his eyes growing cold.

“Bliss. Is it absolutely necessary for me to take the Moore family name?”

Ethan’s unexpected response made Bliss’s eyes waver.

“…You dislike it?”

‘Yes, this is normal.’

Everyone collectively awaited Ethan’s next words. A companion to Bliss Moore? Surely even this commoner Guide understood how presumptuous such a position was, they thought. However, Annabelle lifted her head at Ethan’s voice, which flowed as smoothly as velvet. She had heard that tone once before, during a visit to his academy. It felt ominous.

“The Moore family name seems incredibly heavy; I think it would be difficult to bear. So, how about Bliss taking on Prescott instead? I’ll make sure you don’t forget your roots as a middle name. Bliss Moore Prescott… Hanlan.”

After a slight pause, Ethan pronounced the full name Bliss must have painstakingly chosen. Hanlan. The more he savored it, the more he liked it.

“Th-this is madness…!”

Several elders clutched the back of their necks. As the vassals shouted and leapt to their feet, Bliss’s hearty laughter resounded through the hall.

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