With the ceremony concluded, Henwell stands quietly in the corner of the grand hall. Many are curious about the young knight lord's appearance beneath his scarred helmet. Henwell’s mind is a whirlwind of emotions. How many years has it been? He’s finally become a noble, with a hereditary title!

  He can’t even recall how many people have tried to kill him or how many he’s had to kill in pursuit of this goal. He never expected Grand Duke Amir to actually grant him the position of a knight lord. This isn’t just a baronial title from Baron Jansen; it’s a duchy title. Technically, his loyalty is required only to the Grand Duke, not Baron Jansen.

  Moreover, he now has a knight's fief in Peace Haven, where he can establish a knightly estate. The territory is close to the rge warehouse district he built, which will also fall under his jurisdiction. A thirty-square-kilometer estate is quite rare for a knightly title.

  Henwell is surprised that wearing his battle-worn armor led to such an outcome. Even with Earl Marcus’s endorsement, he feels the Grand Duke has been overly generous. Initially, he intended to py the sympathy card, hoping for a sweet “candy“. Instead, the Grand Duke served him a full banquet.

  While Henwell is delighted and surprised, he also wonders if he’s unwittingly stepped into yet another big trap!

  Just as Henwell remains on high alert, the long-dormant "Golden Finger"—the chat group for struggling transmigrators—finally responds. Or rather, he receives a private message from the system.

  "User status transformation achieved: Escaped sve status, left commoner css, and became a junior leader."

  "Identification complete. User now has speaking privileges, based on managed popution, nd area, influence, and military strength..."

  "Overall assessment: User is granted three speaking opportunities per day!"

  "File transfer function activated, limited to 3MB once per month!"

  Henwell is baffled. Damn! This chat group discriminates against the lower csses? So, he couldn’t speak previously because his status was too low?

  Checking the chat group’s history, Henwell notices that those who can speak are indeed of high status. It seems like the other dozen or so silent members are likely in simir or worse situations than he was.

  After exploring a bit more and finding no additional features, Henwell realizes that, for now, he can only chat, and even that is limited to three messages a day.

  After pondering for a while, Henwell composes a message in his mind and sends it out: "Hello, everyone! I can finally speak now. I envy you all for being in familiar cultural circles. It seems like I've ended up in a medieval world, and it's hardly a pce for anyone to live."

  After a brief silence, the chat group bursts into activity.

  "Hey! A newcomer! You've been lurking for so long, why show up today? Finally turned five? Able to speak now?"

  "Wow! Bro, you're quite stylish! Henwell, you're really making waves!"

  "Damn! Medieval times, huh? I'd love to go there. If only we could switch pces! I heard it's pretty liberal over there. Do nobles really have the right of the first night?"

  "Buddy, tell us about your 'battles' with medieval women. A friend of mine is very curious and wants detailed stories!"

  "Hey, man! How come you have a prefix? How did you get it? 'Thousand Syer'! Sounds like you're quite experienced!"

  "Brother! Please tell me the whole story, especially the details!"

  Henwell notices, for the first time, that there's a "Thousand Syer" badge next to his name. He quickly realizes why.

  "Uh! It's not what you think. Those aren't women I've been with; I'm still a chaste young man! It's about the number of people I've killed. I achieved a milestone for killing a thousand people. Apparently, it only counts if they're killed in combat, not defenseless ones. So, if you're looking to gain experience, it might not be feasible!"

  After another moment of silence, the chat explodes with chaotic messages.

  "Holy crap! Are you serious? You killed a thousand people? A thousand? How did you manage that?"

  "Wow! Is there no w where you are? Were you a psychotic killer before?"

  "Impressive, man! What were you in your past life? An elite soldier? A top mercenary? Or a cold-blooded assassin?"

  "Come on! Stand tall, let me bow to you!"

  Henwell thinks for a moment and writes one st message: "I've got some intel to share. This group is defined by status. Those who can't speak are likely in special situations and haven't met the criteria. Here's what I've figured out; use it as a reference..."

  After listening to Henwell's expnation, everyone realizes the challenges he faced and starts plotting their own paths forward. Princes consider how to seize power, minister's offspring think about climbing the ranks, and general's heirs contempte rebellion.

  As for those who can't speak, Henwell advises either finding a powerful ally or staging a rebellion to get noticed...

  Chatting with people who share his background or nguage brings Henwell a sense of relief, making his steps lighter and more carefree.

  To outsiders, it might seem like Henwell is simply happy about receiving some kind of reward. In this frustrating world, having such a chat group provides him with much-needed soce, making him feel less alone. Though he can't return to his former life, this group offers a connection to his past.

  For Henwell, the chat group serves as a refuge for his soul. He can share any secret without fearing betrayal from its members.

  Henwell returns to the royal estate to prepare for his journey back. With the Midsummer Festival ending tomorrow, he needs to head back to Peace Haven. There, he'll take over his territory and pn its development. There's a lot on his pte, and the current splendor isn't his reality. The chaos in Peace Haven is where he truly belongs.

  As Henwell lies in bed, pnning his future, Melissa is in a manor outside the city, curiously asking her brother about Henwell's activities.

  Upon hearing the details, she feels an unexpected joy. Back in her room, she finds herself fiddling with a small cat statue, lost in thought. She had initially dismissed the statue, handing it off to a maid, only to retrieve it that very night.

  When she learned that Henwell left without a word, Melissa was upset and tossed the statue aside. But upon discovering that it was her father who drove him away, she retrieved it again. She had hoped to see Henwell during the Midsummer Festival and hear his intriguing stories. But Count Marcus had ensured she couldn't meet Henwell, even preventing her from staying in the capital.

  Now, Melissa is unaware that Henwell is returning to his nd, and it might be a long time before they meet again.