Raiden Alaric

"Please, Master Alaric, this way," the elf maid said, her voice carrying that same gentle formality as she gestured toward the mansion's interior.

I followed her through the entrance, and my brain immediately started cataloging things I was pretty sure I couldn't afford to break. The foyer alone was larger than my old apartment, with a ceiling that soared three stories high. A crystal chandelier hung from the center. Not the kind you'd find in a furniture store, but the kind that probably required its own insurance policy.

"This is the main entrance hall," she explained, her movements graceful as she walked. "The chandelier is Astralite crystal, imported from the Luminspire realm. It responds to the home's ambient aura and adjusts lighting accordingly."

As if to demonstrate, the crystal dimmed slightly as we moved beneath it, casting a warm, golden glow that followed our path.

"Right," I muttered. "Of course it does."

She led me deeper into the house, and I started noticing the artwork. The walls were lined with paintings that were... well, they were definitely something. Massive oil portraits in ornate golden frames showed what I could only assume were high elf nobility in various states of dramatic posing.

The first one depicted a male high elf in flowing robes, standing on what appeared to be a mountain peak with his hair billowing majestically in an invisible wind. His expression suggested he'd just discovered something profound, or possibly was dealing with severe constipation.

"That is Lord Silverpeak the Triumphant," the maid said, noticing my stare. "He was known for his mastery over wind esoteric arts and his... dramatic sensibilities."

The next painting showed a female high elf reclining on what looked like a throne made of pure starlight, wearing robes that seemed to shimmer and move within the frame itself. Her pose was clearly meant to convey regal elegance, but she mostly looked like she was trying very hard to appear mysterious while also making sure her good side was showing.

"Lady Astralmar the Radiant," the maid continued with the same professional tone. "She pioneered several light-based esoteric techniques. The painting itself is aura-infused to maintain that luminous effect."

I paused in front of a particularly ambitious piece that showed three high elves standing together on what appeared to be a floating island, all pointing dramatically toward different horizons while aura energy swirled around them in elaborate spirals.

"Let me guess," I said. "The Triumvirate of Something Very Important?"

"The Council of Ethereal Wisdom," she corrected gently. "They were instrumental in establishing the current academy system."

"And they all felt the need to point in different directions while doing it?"

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "High elf portraiture tends toward the... theatrical, Master Alaric."

We moved into what she called the main living area, and I had to stop and stare. The room was enormous, with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a view of the cascading pools I'd seen from outside. The furniture looked like it belonged in a palace. All rich fabrics and carved wood that probably cost more than most people's cars.

"The living space features climate-controlled comfort techniques," she explained, walking toward what appeared to be a marble fireplace that could have doubled as a small cave. "The furniture is all crafted from Elderwood and upholstered in Celestial silk. The entertainment system is fully integrated with aura-tech interfaces."

She gestured toward a wall where what looked like a massive mirror suddenly lit up, displaying what appeared to be news broadcasts, weather information, and other data in floating text.

"The house responds to voice commands in seventeen languages," she continued. "Would you like a demonstration?"

"House, show me something ridiculous," I said, not really expecting it to work.

The mirror immediately displayed what appeared to be a cooking show where someone was attempting to prepare a seven-course meal using only wind esoteric arts. The chef kept getting frustrated as ingredients flew around the kitchen in increasingly chaotic patterns.

"I wasn't expecting that to actually work," I admitted.

"The previous owners had... eclectic viewing preferences," the maid said diplomatically.

We continued through the house, and each room seemed designed to out-luxury the last one. The dining room featured a table that could easily seat twenty people, with chairs that looked like they'd been carved from single pieces of exotic wood and inlaid with precious metals.

More paintings lined these walls, including what appeared to be a high elf family portrait where everyone was posed in dramatically different emotional states. One looked pensively into the distance, another gazed skyward in apparent inspiration, and a third had their hand placed thoughtfully on their chest as if feeling the weight of destiny.

"The dining room's table is imbued to maintain perfect temperature for any food placed upon it," the maid explained, then gestured reverently toward the family portrait. "This particular piece captures the essence of the Brightmoor lineage's connection to the ethereal planes. Notice how each figure represents a different aspect of enlightened consciousness—"

"Yeah, they look like they're all having different bathroom emergencies," I interrupted, wandering over to examine the wine collection instead.

The maid paused mid-explanation, blinking at me. "I... excuse me?"

"The guy on the left looks constipated, the woman in the middle looks like she's about to sneeze, and the one on the right just looks confused." I shrugged. "What's this wine thing about?"

She recovered quickly, though I caught a slight twitch in her eye. "The wine cellar beneath holds a collection spanning three centuries, though I should mention that the previous owners had a particular fondness for wines that change color based on the drinker's mood."

"Cool. Does it come with a manual or do I just wing it?"

"There is... a catalog system..."

She led me up the staircase, and I was starting to notice a pattern. Every time we passed a painting, the maid would slow down slightly, like she was waiting for me to ask about it or show some kind of appreciation. When I didn't, she'd launch into these detailed explanations anyway.

"There are twelve bedrooms in total," she said as we reached the second floor. "Each with its own ensuite facilities and private balcony. The master suite occupies the entire east wing and features a bathroom with a soaking tub carved from a single Moonstone crystal."

I stopped walking. "A bathtub made of Moonstone?"

"It's said to have restorative properties," she replied matter-of-factly. "The previous owners were quite particular about their bathing experiences."

We passed another painting that showed a high elf apparently communing with what looked like a dragon made of pure light. Both the elf and the dragon had expressions of profound spiritual connection, though the dragon also somehow managed to look smug.

The maid slowed again, clearly preparing to launch into another art history lesson.

"Let me guess," I said before she could start. "This guy discovered inner peace through dragon therapy or something equally dramatic?"

"Master Silverpeak the Enlightened achieved a rare spiritual bond with an Astral Dragon, representing the harmony between mortal consciousness and divine—"

"Yep, there it is." I kept walking. "Does the moonstone tub have good water pressure?"

I could practically feel her frustration building behind me, but she maintained her professional composure. "The water pressure is... adjustable through aura techniques."

"Sweet."

The third floor library was actually impressive enough to make me forget about the absurd paintings for a moment. Shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, filled with books bound in rich leathers and adorned with gilt lettering. Comfortable reading chairs were positioned near tall windows, and a few floating lights drifted lazily through the air.

"The books are organized by both subject and aura resonance," the maid explained, her voice warming up again as we moved away from artwork. "The catalog system is voice-activated and can provide summaries or locate specific topics on request."

Another painting dominated one wall of the library, this one showing a high elf surrounded by floating books, quills writing in the air around him, and what appeared to be pure knowledge manifesting as golden light streaming from his fingertips.

"Don't tell me," I said, flopping down in one of the reading chairs without ceremony. "Lord Whatsit the Incredibly Smart discovered the secret of making books float while having a really intense spiritual experience."

The maid's professional mask slipped just slightly. "Lord Brightmoor the Illuminated developed the Self-Writing Bibliography technique and was considered one of the foremost scholars of Esoteric Affinities of his generation."

"Right, but did he ever write anything useful? Like how to work the aura-infused bathtub or where they keep the normal food?"

"He wrote extensively on theoretical applications of Esoteric Affinities and philosophical—"

"So no."

She was quiet for a moment, and when I glanced up at her, I caught a flash of genuine irritation in those crimson eyes before she smoothed her expression back to professional neutrality.

It was kind of adorable.

And everywhere, more paintings. High elves riding majestic steeds through cloudscapes. High elves conducting orchestras of pure aura energy. High elves in flowing robes standing atop mountains, in forests, beside oceans—apparently never in normal locations like a grocery store or waiting for public transportation.

"The previous owners were quite fond of commissioning artwork," the maid noted as we passed a particularly elaborate piece showing what appeared to be a high elf conducting some kind of mathematical lecture to a group of attentive woodland creatures.

"I'm starting to notice that," I said. "Did they ever commission any paintings of themselves doing normal things? Like eating breakfast or paying bills?"

"I believe there's one in the breakfast nook of Master Elias reading the morning correspondence while his coffee maintains perfect temperature through aura techniques."

"Of course there is."

"Master Alaric," she said carefully, "are you... not interested in the artistic and cultural heritage of your new home?"

I leaned back in the chair, studying her face. "Honestly? Not really. It's all very pretty and dramatic, but mostly it just looks like a bunch of people who took themselves way too seriously."

Her eye twitched again. "These are priceless works of art representing centuries of high elf cultural achievement—"

"And they're hanging in my house now," I said with a grin. "Which makes them my priceless works of art that I can think are ridiculous if I want to."

"You find them... ridiculous?"

"Come on, you have to admit some of this stuff is over the top."

"I... the artistic merit..." she started, then seemed to deflate slightly. "You really don't care about any of it, do you?"

"Not even a little bit." I stood up and walked over to examine a floating light more closely. "But I do care about the aura-infused library catalog system. And the moonstone bathtub. And definitely the wine that changes colors. That all sounds useful."

"But the paintings—"

"Are very expensive wallpaper as far as I'm concerned." I glanced back at her and caught that little flash of irritation again. "Does that bother you?"

She hesitated, clearly debating whether to be honest. "Perhaps... slightly."

"Good," I said, my grin widening. "Now I know how to get under your skin when you start getting too formal with me."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me. Every time you start treating me like I'm some kind of important person who needs to be impressed with art history, I'm just going to point out how silly these paintings are until you get that little wrinkle between your eyebrows."

"I do not have a wrinkle—" She caught herself, touching her forehead self-consciously.

"There it is again," I said cheerfully. "Very cute."

We continued the tour, and the luxury just kept escalating. The house had multiple pools, both indoor and outdoor. There was a full gymnasium with equipment I didn't recognize but that looked like it could probably bench press a small building. A meditation room with walls made of some kind of crystal that supposedly enhanced spiritual focus. A workshop area that came pre-equipped with aura-forging stations.

By the time we reached what she called the "entertainment wing," my brain had started to go numb from the sheer scale of everything. The room contained what appeared to be a private theater with seating for thirty, a full bar that probably contained alcohol worth more than most people's annual salaries, and a gaming area with both traditional games and aura-enhanced variants I'd never seen before.

The walls here featured a series of paintings depicting high elves engaged in various leisure activities, all rendered with the same dramatic flair. High elves playing chess while aura energy swirled around the pieces. High elves dancing while floating three feet off the ground. High elves having what appeared to be a very intense conversation about wine while the wine bottles themselves glowed with inner light.

"This is all mine?" I asked, the reality starting to sink in despite the absurdity of it all.

"Yes, Master Alaric. The property transfer was complete as of this morning. This includes the house, all furnishings, the art collection, the wine cellar, the aura-forged artifact collection, and all associated techniques and maintenance contracts."

I stood in the middle of the entertainment room, surrounded by luxury I'd never imagined owning, with paintings of dramatically posed high elves watching me from every wall.

"What's your name?" I asked the maid suddenly, realizing I'd been thinking of her as 'the elf maid' this entire time.

She seemed slightly surprised by the question. "Lyralei, Master Alaric."

"Lyralei," I repeated. "And you work here?"

"I manage the household staff for this property, yes. There are twelve of us in total who maintain this estate." She paused thoughtfully. "Though we all ultimately report to Seraphina, who oversees the staff across all eight properties, forty people in total."

So she's like the "head maid."

"And you all just... come with the house?"

"The Brightmoor family employed us for many years. The terms of the transfer included provisions for continued employment if we chose to remain." She paused slightly. "We were given the option to seek other positions, but most of us decided to stay."

"Why?"

She was quiet for a moment, her crimson eyes studying my face. "If I may speak freely, Master Alaric?"

"Please do."

"The Brightmoors were not unkind employers, but they were... distant. They viewed staff as part of the household fixtures. You're the first person to ask my name in three years." She smiled slightly. "Though I should mention, Seraphina was quite insistent that we give you a proper chance. She seemed to believe you would be... different."

"She was?"

"Yes, though she didn't elaborate on her reasons." Lyralei's expression grew thoughtful. "Seraphina has very particular instincts about people. She's also quite protective of the staff across all properties. If she believes you're worth serving, that carries significant weight with the rest of us."

I caught something in her tone. "Sounds like there's more to that story."

"Seraphina has her own reasons for valuing... discretion... in employment situations," Lyralei said carefully. "She understands that some circumstances make finding stable, trustworthy positions challenging. She's been known to advocate strongly for staff members who need that kind of understanding."

"What kind of circumstances?"

Lyralei hesitated, clearly debating how much to reveal. "Let's just say that Seraphina believes in giving people second chances, regardless of their past. She's never explained her reasoning, but she has excellent judgment about character." She straightened slightly. "I'm sure she'll want to meet with you personally once you're settled. She always prefers to assess new... arrangements... herself."

That hit me harder than it probably should have. I looked around the room again, at all the luxury and artwork and aura-infused conveniences, and realized that for all their dramatic paintings and restorative bathtubs, the previous owners had apparently been pretty terrible at basic human decency.

Or... Elf decency. Is that a thing?

"Well," I said finally, "I'm definitely going to need help figuring out how to live in a place like this. And I'd prefer to know the names of the people I'm working with."

Another small smile tugged at her lips. "I believe that can be arranged, Master Alaric."

I walked over to one of the massive windows, staring out at the cascading pools and manicured grounds. The reality was starting to sink in, but it still felt surreal. "Okay, so... what exactly do I own now? I mean, besides this house and the staff and all the dramatic artwork."

I need to know how much this is all costing me... The IRS will want to be best friends after this.

Lyralei straightened slightly, slipping back into her professional mode. "Would you like the complete breakdown of the asset transfer?"

"Hit me."

She clasped her hands in front of her, clearly drawing from memory. "The transfer includes a comprehensive real estate portfolio valued at approximately 1.2 billion dollars, spanning properties across multiple continents. This includes eight personal residences and numerous commercial investment properties worldwide."

I blinked. "Eight houses."

"Personal residences, yes," she corrected gently. "This estate is considered the primary residence. The others include properties in London, Tokyo, Sydney, and four additional homes strategically located near the top Ascendant academies, Atlantis, Camelot, Ne-No-Kuni, and Elysium."

"Near the academies?"

"The Brightmoor family believed in maintaining convenience for their children's education," she explained. "Each residence is fully staffed and maintained year-round, regardless of occupancy."

I rubbed my forehead. "Of course they are. What else?"

"The vehicle collection includes twelve cars, ranging from luxury sedans to sports cars to utility vehicles. There's also a private yacht docked in Marina del Rey and a helicopter based at a private airfield."

"A helicopter."

"Yes, Master Alaric. The family found it convenient for travel to their various properties."

I was starting to feel that familiar sensation of my brain trying to process information it wasn't equipped for. "Okay. Vehicles, properties. What about... I don't know, money? Investments?"

"Ah." Lyralei's expression grew more serious. "The financial portfolio is quite extensive. The transfer includes the family's complete stock holdings, primarily tech companies, renewable energy, and real estate investment trusts. The current valuation fluctuates, but it was approximately 1.8 billion at last assessment."

"Billion. With a B."

"Yes. Additionally, there are the gold bonds, physical precious metal investments worth approximately 400 million. The family was quite conservative with their wealth preservation strategies."

I sat down heavily in the nearest chair. "Is there more?"

"The liquid assets," she said carefully, "were a separate matter entirely. What I mentioned before were the family's legitimate investment holdings, which generate approximately 180 to 200 million in annual income through dividends and returns."

"Wait, what do you mean 'separate matter'?"

Lyralei's expression became more cautious. "When the family realized they had to transfer everything immediately, they needed to liquidate not just their standard accounts, but also... other financial arrangements. The total liquid transfer was significantly higher than normal operating funds."

"Other arrangements?"

"I... perhaps it's not my place to speculate about the family's business practices," she said diplomatically. "But the liquidation process was quite urgent, and involved converting assets that weren't typically held in standard investment portfolios."

I had a feeling there was a lot more to that story, but decided not to push for details I probably didn't want to know.

"So how much liquid cash are we talking about?"

"The funds should have been transferred to your accounts this morning. The legal documents were quite specific about the timeline."

I felt my face go pale. "In my actual bank account. The one I use to buy gas and save up for things like new clothes and the occasional dinner out."

"I... yes, Master Alaric. Though I believe the bank may have upgraded your account status given the deposit amount."

My hands were suddenly shaking as I pulled out my phone. "This is insane. This can't be real."

"Master Alaric, perhaps you should sit down properly before—"

But I was already opening my banking app, my thumb trembling slightly as I navigated to my account balance. The app took a moment to load, probably because it was having its own existential crisis about what it was about to display.

Then the number appeared.

I made a sound that wasn't quite a word and wasn't quite a scream. My knees buckled and I would have hit the floor if the chair hadn't been right behind me.

"One point eight... billion..." I managed to whisper, staring at my phone screen. "There are actually that many zeros. In my checking account."

Lyralei moved closer, concern evident in her voice. "Master Alaric, are you alright?"

"My bank account," I said faintly, "used to have like... three hundred dollars from my part-time job. Maybe four hundred if I'd been working extra shifts and hadn't filled up my gas tank. Now it has..." I squinted at the screen, trying to count zeros. "One point eight billion dollars."

"The bank has been notified of your change in financial status," she said gently. "You should be receiving a call from a private banking specialist within the next few hours to discuss account management options. There are also additional currency accounts being set up for the remaining funds."

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"Additional accounts," I repeated dumbly. "For my one point eight billion dollars."

"Actually, that's just the primary transfer to your existing account," Lyralei said carefully. "The total liquid transfer was approximately 4.2 billion dollars."

I felt the world tilt sideways. "Four point two billion. In cash."

"Yes. The 1.8 billion in your account is the initial transfer. The remaining 2.4 billion is being distributed across multiple currency accounts and high-yield savings to avoid... complications."

"Stop." I held up a hand, still staring at my phone. "Just... give me a minute to process the fact that I went from gas being my primary money drainer to having more money than some small countries' entire GDP."

The IRS... I can hear them knocking.

I refreshed the app, just to make sure I wasn't hallucinating. The number didn't change. If anything, it seemed to mock me with its impossible largeness.

"This is insane," I muttered. "Yesterday I was debating whether I could afford to eat out this weekend and calculating if I had enough gas money to last until my next paycheck. Now I could apparently buy a small country."

"Several small countries, actually," Lyralei said helpfully.

I looked up at her. "You're not helping."

"My apologies, Master Alaric."

I stood up slowly, testing whether my legs would support me. They seemed willing, though everything still felt vaguely unreal. "So let me get this straight. I own a 1.2 billion dollar real estate portfolio including eight personal residences around the world, four of which are conveniently located near top academies, plus twelve cars, a yacht, a helicopter, 1.8 billion in stocks, 400 million in gold, and 4.2 billion in cash spread across multiple accounts."

"That's correct, yes."

"And forty staff members across all properties."

"Who chose to remain, yes."

I walked back to the window, looking out at grounds that apparently belonged to me. "Lyralei?"

"Yes, Master Alaric?"

"How much do you and the other staff get paid? I mean, if you're all working for me now, I need to figure out a budget for salaries and everything."

She seemed surprised by the question. "The compensation structure was established by the Brightmoor family years ago. As property manager for this estate, I receive $45,000 annually. The other staff members receive between $28,000 and $38,000 depending on their roles and experience across all properties."

I turned around slowly, staring at her. "I'm sorry, what?"

"$45,000 per year," she repeated, looking uncertain. "The benefits package includes housing, meals, and basic healthcare coverage..."

"Lyralei," I said, my voice getting higher, "I just found out I have over seven billion dollars in assets, and you're telling me the people who maintain all of this, who keep these massive properties running, who manage my household, are making less than fifty thousand dollars?"

She blinked. "That's... a competitive salary for household management, Master Alaric."

"Competitive?" I gestured wildly at the entertainment room around us. "This room probably cost more to furnish than you make in five years!"

I started pacing, my mind racing. "Okay, we're fixing this. But I need to figure out the right way to do it." I stopped and looked at her. "All this artwork that I apparently think is ridiculous, what's it actually worth?"

"Master Alaric?"

"The paintings, the sculptures, all the dramatic high elf art that's hanging around here. Give me a ballpark estimate of what it would sell for."

Lyralei's expression grew serious. "Well, the collection is quite extensive. There are over two hundred pieces throughout all the properties, including some very rare works by master artists. Conservatively speaking, I would estimate the entire collection to be worth approximately... 150 to 200 million dollars."

My knees nearly gave out. "Two hundred million. For paintings."

"The painting in the main hall alone, Lord Silverpeak the Triumphant, is considered a masterpiece of High Elf Romantic Expressionism. It's valued at roughly eight million dollars."

I sat down hard. "Eight million. For one painting. Of a guy looking constipated on a mountain."

"Master Alaric, are you alright?"

"Sell all of it. Every painting, every sculpture, every piece of dramatically overpriced high elf art in this place." I stood up, suddenly energized. "I want it all gone."

Lyralei looked genuinely shocked. "Master Alaric, you can't be serious. These are priceless cultural artifacts—"

"You just told me they have very specific prices, actually. Very large prices." I started pacing again. "And you said they're priceless to elven culture, right? Well, if they're that culturally significant, imagine what elves in their home realms would pay for them. Probably way more than 200 million."

Her eyes widened. "You want to sell High Elf cultural masterpieces back to the High Elves?"

"Why not? They'll appreciate the art way more than I do, they'll probably pay premium prices for culturally significant pieces, and I get to turn paintings of people looking constipated on mountains into money I can actually use for something useful."

Lyralei opened and closed her mouth several times. "That's... actually quite clever. And probably very profitable."

"See? Everyone wins. The art goes to people who will actually appreciate it instead of someone who thinks it's expensive wallpaper, and I get enough money to give forty people financial security."

I rubbed my forehead, still trying to process everything. "Okay, hold on. Before I figure out what to do about all this, I need to understand something else." I looked at her seriously. "You mentioned my annual income from the investments. Break that down for me."

Lyralei blinked, seeming to force herself back into professional mode. "Well, the investment portfolio generates dividends and returns annually. The real estate holdings produce rental income from the commercial properties. Combined with interest from various accounts..." She paused, clearly doing mental calculations. "Conservatively speaking, your annual passive income should be approximately... 180 to 200 million dollars per year."

I felt my soul leave my body.

I have a new arch nemesis. The IRS.

I slumped deeper into my chair, sliding down until I was practically horizontal. "Two hundred million. Per year. Just for existing."

"That's... yes, Master Alaric. Though it fluctuates based on market conditions—"

"Lyralei," I said weakly, staring at the ceiling, "I make more money in a single day than most people make in their entire lives."

"Technically, yes."

I was quiet for a long moment, just processing the sheer absurdity of it all. Then I sat up suddenly, a new determination in my eyes.

"You know what? We're selling the art and giving everyone five million each. But on top of that, we're also tripling everyone's salaries."

Lyralei's eyes went wide. "Master Alaric—"

"Your salary goes from forty-five thousand to a hundred and thirty-five thousand, PLUS the five million from the art sale."

Lyralei made a strangled noise and fell backwards in her chair, sliding down until she was mirroring my position, completely horizontal and staring at the ceiling in shock.

"Five million dollars PLUS a hundred and thirty-five thousand per year," she whispered.

"Annually, yes."

She suddenly rolled out of her chair and onto the floor, then started crawling toward me on her hands and knees, all pretense of professional dignity completely abandoned.

"Master Alaric," she said, her voice slightly wild as she crawled closer, "please tell me this is some kind of elaborate psychological torture. Are you testing me? Is this a game? Are you seeing how much my brain can handle before it breaks?"

I looked down at her crawling across the expensive carpet toward my chair. "Lyralei, what are you doing?"

"I'm having a crisis!" she said, still crawling. "You've destroyed my ability to understand money! Five million dollars AND tripled salary?! That's... that's..." She stopped crawling and started counting on her fingers. "That's more money than I could spend in several lifetimes!"

She reached my chair and grabbed onto the armrest, pulling herself up to look at me with wild, desperate eyes.

"What if I accidentally become fancy? What if I start buying expensive things? What if I develop opinions about wine that aren't just 'the red kind tastes different from the white kind'?"

I couldn't help but start laughing. "Lyralei, you're having a breakdown on my carpet."

"Yes! Because you've broken my brain with money!" She shook the armrest slightly. "Master Alaric, this is too much! You can't just give everyone five million dollars AND triple their salaries! That's insane!"

"Is it though?" I sat up straighter. "Lyralei, break down my income for me. Month by month."

"What?"

"You said I make 180 to 200 million per year. What's that per month?"

She blinked, still gripping my armrest. "Well... 200 million divided by twelve months... that's approximately 16.7 million dollars per month."

"Per month," I repeated. "And per week?"

"Per week would be..." She paused, doing the math. "About 3.8 million dollars."

"And per day?"

"Per... per day?" She looked increasingly panicked. "That would be roughly... 547,000 dollars. Per day."

"So I make over half a million dollars every single day just for existing."

"Yes, but—"

"The art sale is 200 million total, which is money I already own from selling stuff I think is ridiculous." I gestured around the room. "And tripling everyone's salaries? Let's see... if the average goes from about 35,000 to 105,000, that's an extra 70,000 per person, times forty people..."

I pulled out my phone calculator. "That's 2.8 million per year in additional salary costs. Which means the salary increases cost me about five days of income."

Lyralei slowly sank to the floor, still gripping the armrest. "You make in five days what it would cost to triple everyone's salary for an entire year."

"Exactly. And the five million each from art sales? That's money I already have from selling paintings of elves looking constipated on mountains."

She flopped backward onto the carpet, spreading her arms wide. "I don't know how to process this information. My brain wasn't designed to understand numbers this large."

"What about Seraphina? What does she make?"

Lyralei rolled her head to look at me. "Seraphina oversees all forty staff members across eight properties. Her salary is sixty thousand annually."

"So she'll be getting a hundred and eighty thousand per year, plus five million from the art sale."

Lyralei made another strangled noise and covered her face with her hands. "You're going to break her too! Seraphina is very composed and professional! She's going to have the same crisis I'm having, but she'll do it while standing perfectly straight and speaking in complete sentences!"

"That does sound pretty funny."

"It's not funny! It's terrifying!" Lyralei sat up suddenly, her hair slightly disheveled from rolling around on the floor. "What if this much money changes us? What if we become different people? What if I start thinking the dramatic paintings are actually good?"

"Now you're just being ridiculous."

"AM I?!" She gestured wildly at the room around us. "This entire conversation is ridiculous! You've been rich for exactly one day and you're already trying to accidentally create forty millionaires with tripled salaries!"

I considered this. "When you put it like that, it does sound a bit excessive."

"A bit?!" She scrambled back to her knees, grabbing the armrest again. "Master Alaric, I respect your generosity, truly I do. But you're talking about giving an elf who explains art history for a living more money than exists in some small countries! What if I panic and spend it all on something stupid? What if I buy a boat? I don't even know how to swim properly!"

"You could learn. You could afford swimming lessons. Very expensive swimming lessons."

"WITH WHAT TIME?! I'll be too busy having panic attacks about accidentally being ultra-wealthy!"

I was laughing so hard now that I was having trouble breathing. "Lyralei, you realize you're arguing against getting five million dollars AND a massive raise, right?"

She paused, blinking at me. "I... yes. Yes I am. Because you've broken my ability to think rationally about money." She slumped against my chair, looking defeated. "Five million dollars plus a hundred and thirty-five thousand per year. For explaining why high elves like to paint themselves looking constipated on mountains."

"When you put it like that, it does seem like a pretty good deal."

She looked up at me with those wide crimson eyes, still completely disheveled and sitting on the floor. "Master Alaric... are you absolutely certain you're not having some kind of wealth-induced mental breakdown?"

"Probably," I admitted. "But I'm having it in the direction of giving people money, so I figure that's better than most alternatives."

She stared at me for a long moment, then slowly nodded. "You know what? You're right. If you're going to have a money-induced crisis, this is definitely the best kind to have."

"Exactly. The money's non-negotiable though." I leaned forward, my expression becoming more serious. "Lyralei, look around this place. I have eight properties like this, plus investments, plus businesses. I literally cannot manage any of this without people who know what they're doing. You and the other staff? You're not just employees, you're essential. You keep my life from falling apart."

I gestured at the entertainment room around us. "Without you, I'd probably burn down the house trying to figure out how the aura-tech entertainment system works. Without groundskeepers, these places would turn into overgrown ruins. Without security, someone would probably rob me blind within a week." I shrugged. "The way I see it, I'm not being generous, I'm making a smart investment in the people who actually know how to handle all this."

Lyralei blinked at me, clearly processing this perspective.

"Besides," I continued with a grin, "if I'm going to accidentally be obscenely wealthy, I'd rather have people around me who are comfortable and happy, not stressed about money. Makes the whole thing less weird for everyone."

"I... that actually makes sense," she admitted reluctantly.

"And when does Seraphina get back? I should probably explain this to her in person before she finds out secondhand and thinks I've lost my mind."

"She's currently overseas, actually," Lyralei said, hauling herself back into her chair and trying to smooth down her hair. "She left yesterday to inspect all the properties and ensure they meet standards for the new owner. She's quite thorough about these things."

I snorted with laughter. "She's making sure the properties are up to standard? Have you seen this place? There's a bathtub made of moonstone and paintings of elves conducting orchestras. What exactly is she worried about, that one of the other houses might be too reasonable?"

Lyralei couldn't help but smile at that. "Seraphina takes her responsibilities very seriously. She wants to ensure that everything is perfect when you visit the other properties."

"Right, because clearly this place screams 'practical living arrangements,'" I said, gesturing at a painting of a high elf conducting an orchestra of pure aura energy. "I can only imagine what the other houses are like if this is the baseline for acceptable."

"The Tokyo residence has a meditation garden with floating stones," Lyralei offered helpfully.

"Of course it does." I shook my head, still grinning. "Well, when Seraphina gets back from her inspection tour of my apparently insufficient luxury properties, I'll explain the salary situation to her directly. Fair warning though, she's probably going to have the same kind of breakdown you just had."

"Oh, definitely," Lyralei agreed. "But she'll do it very professionally. She might even take notes."

"A professional breakdown with documentation. That does sound like her based on what you've described."

Lyralei nodded seriously. "She's very organized about everything, including emotional crises."

"Wait, there's something else I should probably mention," Lyralei said, her expression becoming more serious. "About the liquidation process itself. The Skyhaven patriarch personally oversaw the entire transfer to ensure nothing was left behind or overlooked. He was quite thorough about making sure every asset was properly transferred."

I ran my hand down my face, suddenly understanding. "Ivander. Of course Ivander was involved in this."

"Who?" Lyralei looked genuinely confused.

I waved my hand dismissively. "The Skyhaven patriarch. Long story."

"Oh, you mean Lord Caelith Elaren?"

"That's what I said, Ivander." I sighed, still covering my face with my hand. "He's probably trying to get in my good graces after I turned down his recruitment offer and called out how he lets his sect members run wild. Great. So not only do I accidentally have more money than I know what to do with, but Ivander made sure I got every last penny of it."

Lyralei's eyes went wide with what looked like genuine panic. "Master Alaric, you... you turned down a personal recruitment offer from the Skyhaven patriarch? And criticized him publicly?"

I waved my hand dismissively. "Yeah, it wasn't a big deal."

"NOT A BIG DEAL?!" Her voice pitched higher. "Master Alaric, that's one of the most powerful men in multiple realms! People spend their entire lives hoping for even a chance to meet him, let alone receive a personal offer!"

"He seemed fine with it," I said with a shrug.

"Fine with—" She looked like she was having trouble breathing. "Master Alaric, normal people don't just casually reject sect patriarchs and then call them out for poor leadership!"

"Well, it's not like I was wrong about the leadership thing," I pointed out. "The whole Brightmoor situation was a mess that he should have handled better."

Lyralei sat down heavily, staring at me like I'd just told her I regularly arm-wrestle dragons for fun. "And now he's personally ensuring you receive every possible asset from the Brightmoor transfer..."

"Exactly. See? He's probably trying to make up for the whole thing." I grinned. "Plus now I can afford to give everyone ridiculous amounts of money, so really, it all worked out."

"Master Alaric," she said weakly, "your casual attitude toward realm politics is going to give me gray hair."

"Hey, at least you'll be able to afford really expensive hair dye with your new salary," I pointed out cheerfully.

She made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a whimper, then seemed to hesitate, opening her mouth as if to ask something before closing it again and looking down at her hands.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing, Master Alaric. It's not my place to pry into your affairs." She straightened slightly, her professional training clearly taking over. "I should focus on the household management tasks at hand."

"You're going to be the death of me," I muttered, though I was grinning. Between her formal training and my apparently casual interactions with people who could probably level cities, this was going to be an interesting arrangement.

"Well," I said, standing up and stretching, "I should probably start figuring out how to live in a place where the furniture costs more than most people's houses and the art makes me want to commission paintings of high elves doing normal things like grocery shopping and paying taxes."

"Master Alaric?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For... all of this. The money is overwhelming and terrifying, but the fact that you see us as essential rather than just... fixtures..." She smiled genuinely. "That means more than the salary increase."

"Though the salary increase doesn't hurt," I pointed out.

"The salary increase is going to give me nightmares about accidentally buying expensive things," she admitted. "But yes, it doesn't hurt."

I grinned and leaned back in my chair. "Actually, while we're on the subject of the staff, I should probably know what everyone actually does around here. You know, their duties and what each person specializes in."

Lyralei looked confused. "Master Alaric?"

"Well, think about it," I said with a slight smile, "I'm probably going to get into fights at some point, academy training, sparring, maybe some idiot decides to challenge me to prove a point. I'll probably come back bloodied and bruised more often than not. It would be pretty useful to know if there's a healer on staff I can talk to, or if I need to figure out how to use that moonstone bathtub for more than just luxury soaking."

Lyralei blinked, clearly not having expected that particular concern. "Oh. Yes, that... that would be practical information."

"Exactly. Plus, if I'm going to be working with everyone, I should know who's good at what. Makes everything run smoother." I gestured around the room. "This place is massive and apparently has all sorts of aura-tech systems I don't understand. Better to know who can help with what before I accidentally break something expensive."

Lyralei took a deep breath, visibly collecting herself and straightening her posture. "Of course, Master Alaric. I would be happy to introduce you to the staff and explain their roles. If you would please follow me, I can show you—"

"Whoa, hold up," I interrupted with a grin. "Drop the formalities, would you? Just be casual with me. The whole 'Master Alaric' thing makes me feel like I should be wearing a cape and dramatically pointing at mountains."

She blinked, clearly caught off guard. "I... but it's proper protocol for—"

"Lyralei," I said gently, "you just spent the last twenty minutes rolling around on the carpet having an existential crisis about money. I think we've moved past formal protocol."

A small smile tugged at her lips. "I suppose that's... fair."

"Much better. Now, shall we go meet everyone?"

She nodded and led me out of the entertainment wing. As we walked through the corridors, I was struck again by just how massive this place was. Every hallway seemed to stretch forever, lined with more dramatic paintings and punctuated by doorways leading to rooms I hadn't even seen yet.

"The staff quarters are in the east wing," Lyralei explained as we walked. "Most of the common areas and work spaces are on the ground floor for easy access."

We entered what appeared to be a large kitchen area where two women were working. Both were elves, with the characteristic pointed ears and ethereal beauty that seemed to come naturally to their kind. One had brown hair tied back in a practical bun, while the other had silver hair and looked younger.

"Raiden, meet Elena and Mira," Lyralei said. "Elena handles most of the cooking and meal planning, while Mira manages the household supplies and inventory."

Elena looked up from what appeared to be meal prep and gave a polite nod. "A pleasure to meet you, sir."

"Just Raiden is fine," I said, then grinned. "And honestly, it's great to meet someone else who appreciates the culinary arts. I do a lot of cooking myself - I cook with my mom regularly, and I handle most of the meals for my mentor. I love experimenting with different techniques and flavors."

Elena's face lit up immediately. "Really? That's wonderful! So few people appreciate the craft anymore. What kind of cuisine do you enjoy working with?"

"I've gotten pretty comfortable with a wide range of styles," I said confidently. "I love the challenge of perfecting techniques and working with quality ingredients when I can get them. Though I have to admit, I've never had access to the kind of rare or expensive ingredients that a place like this probably stocks."

"That's the mark of a true cook," Elena said, clearly pleased. "Working with limitations often produces the most creative results. I'd love to show you the kitchen here, it's fully equipped with both traditional and aura-enhanced cooking equipment."

"Aura-enhanced cooking equipment?" I raised an eyebrow. "Okay, now I'm curious."

"Temperature control that responds to your intent, preservation fields that can keep ingredients at perfect freshness, even fermentation chambers that can accelerate or slow aging processes," she explained enthusiastically. "It opens up entirely new possibilities."

"That sounds incredible. Maybe we could cook together sometime? I'd love to learn what's possible with that kind of equipment."

"I would be delighted," Elena beamed. "It's been far too long since I've had someone to share techniques with."

Mira laughed at that. "I think we can manage something better than cereal."

As we continued the tour, Lyralei introduced me to several more staff members. There was Marina, who apparently handled security and maintenance of the aura-tech systems. Sarah, who managed the gardens and grounds. And Tessa, who seemed to be in charge of the vehicles and transportation. All elves, all beautiful in that effortless way that seemed to come with their heritage.

Each person seemed genuinely nice, though I could tell they were all still processing the fact that their employer had changed overnight. I tried to be as casual and normal as possible, which seemed to help put them at ease.

But as we moved from room to room, something started nagging at me. Finally, I had to ask.

"Lyralei," I said, stopping in the middle of a hallway. "Is the entire staff... all female elves?"

She suddenly found the floor very interesting, her gaze dropping as she fidgeted with her hands.

"Lyralei?" I pressed. "Why aren't you answering?"

She was quiet for a long moment, clearly uncomfortable. "The... the Brightmoors made specific staffing requests for the transition," she said finally, still not looking at me.

"What kind of requests?"

"They consulted with the Skyhaven patriarch about... about what might be most appealing to young men," she said quietly. "They wanted to ensure the staff would be... conducive to your—"

She stopped mid-sentence, staring in confusion as I silently slid down the wall until I was sitting on the floor in the corner, drew my knees up to my chest, and buried my face in my arms.

"Raiden?" Lyralei's voice was bewildered. "What are you doing?"

"Ivander," I mumbled into my knees, my voice muffled and mortified. "That bastard made me look like a complete pervert."

"I don't think anyone actually believes—"

"Of course they do," I said, still not lifting my head. "Some random eighteen-year-old guy suddenly inherits billions of dollars and a mansion staffed entirely by beautiful elven women? What else would people think?"

I could feel my face burning with shame even though no one could see it. "God, everyone's going to think I'm some kind of... of..."

"You're not," Lyralei said firmly, and I heard her move closer. "Anyone who spends five minutes talking to you would know that's not who you are."

"Doesn't matter," I muttered. "The damage is done. Ivander probably thought he was being helpful, making sure I'd be 'comfortable' with the arrangement." I made a disgusted sound. "I'm never going to live this down."

There was a moment of silence, then I felt Lyralei sit down on the floor next to me. "For what it's worth," she said quietly, "none of us were hired for... those reasons. We were all qualified for our positions before the transfer was even discussed."

I lifted my head slightly to look at her. "Really?"

"Really. The Brightmoors may have had... unfortunate ideas about presentation, but we're all here because we're good at our jobs." She gave me a small smile. "Though I admit, your reaction does confirm that their assumptions about what you'd want were completely wrong."

I let out a long breath and finally lifted my head properly. "This is so embarrassing."

"It doesn't have to be," she said gently. "You get to decide what kind of employer you want to be. And from what I've seen so far, you're nothing like what they expected."

I managed a weak smile. "Thanks. Though I still feel like I need to apologize to everyone for the awkward circumstances."

"Most of us figured out pretty quickly that the arrangement was more about the previous owners' assumptions than anything to do with you," Lyralei assured me. "And honestly? The fact that you're mortified about it just proves you're exactly the kind of person we were hoping you'd be."

I finally stood up, brushing off my clothes and trying to regain some dignity. "Okay. But when I tell everyone about the salary increases and bonuses, I'm also going to explain that the staffing situation was completely the Brightmoors' idea, not mine."

"That's probably wise," Lyralei agreed, standing as well. "Though I suspect most people will figure that out on their own once they meet you."

We continued down the hallway, and I was starting to feel slightly less mortified when Lyralei stopped in front of another set of double doors.

"And this," she said as she opened them, "is the training facility."

I stopped dead in my tracks.

The room was enormous, easily the size of a small gymnasium. The floors were polished hardwood, marked with various circles and lines that suggested different training areas. Along the walls were racks of weapons that made my heart rate pick up: swords of various lengths and styles, staffs, training spears, and equipment I didn't even recognize.

There were also what appeared to be aura-tech training devices, crystalline structures that hummed faintly with energy, target dummies that looked like they could take a serious beating, and what might have been some kind of projection system for creating training scenarios.

"Holy shit," I breathed, walking deeper into the room. "This is incredible. Some of this equipment looks like it belongs in a professional academy."

Lyralei smiled. "The previous owners believed in maintaining their combat readiness. The facility is fully equipped for both individual training and sparring sessions."

I was drawn to the weapon racks like a magnet, my eyes lighting up as I took in the variety and quality of the equipment. "This might be the best part of this whole ridiculous situation."

"The Brightmoors spared no expense when it came to training facilities," she confirmed. "Though I should mention, we do have medical facilities as well. There's a fully equipped healing bay adjacent to this room, staffed by someone qualified in both mundane and aura-enhanced healing techniques."

I turned to look at her with a grin. "You mean I actually do have a healer on staff?"

"Indeed. Dr. Hartwell manages all medical needs for the estate. She's quite skilled."

"Perfect," I said, still looking around the training room with obvious excitement. Then something occurred to me, and I turned to Lyralei with a grin that probably looked a little too eager. "Speaking of combat readiness, any of the staff actually capable fighters? I mean, I know Marina handles security, but are we talking 'knows basic self-defense' or 'could actually give me a decent workout'?"

Lyralei blinked at the sudden shift in my demeanor. "Well... all of the current staff are Blue or Violet ranked Ascendants, actually. The Brightmoors preferred to employ individuals who could handle themselves in various situations."

My grin widened considerably. "Blue and Violet ranked? All of them?"

"Yes, though their primary roles are household management, not—"

"Lyralei," I interrupted, my eyes practically lighting up as an absolutely brilliant idea formed in my mind, "I think I just figured out how to make everyone's job infinitely more interesting."

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