The first thing I did was move into one of the apartments Damian owned in the capital city of the Solhaven Empire—Bartini.
Calling it an "apartment" honestly felt misleading.
By noble standards, this place was apparently modest.
By normal human standards?
It was absurd.
Two bedrooms.
A marble kitchen.
A private study larger than my old apartment back on Earth.
Floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking half the city.
A fireplace made from imported black stone.
Even the bathroom looked expensive enough to financially intimidate commoners.
Rich people truly lived in another dimension.
Still...
I couldn't deny the place was convenient.
The Imperial Academy was only twenty-five minutes away by vehicle and twenty minutes away by mana train.
Apparently, Damian originally bought this property because he hated academy dormitories.
And honestly?
For once, I completely agreed with him.
Why would I willingly live in cramped dorms filled with noisy teenagers when I had an entire apartment to myself?
Absolutely not.
Of course...
There was one painful issue.
"...250,000 Credits."
I stared blankly at the payment notice sitting on the kitchen counter.
The academy penalty fee.
Technically, it included compensation, disciplinary fines, property damages, and various other legal nonsense Damian had accumulated through his stupidity.
In short—
I was paying money for crimes committed by another man.
What a beautiful system.
Unfortunately, refusing wasn't an option.
Not unless I wanted immediate expulsion from the academy.
And despite everything...
Dropping out now would be suicidal.
Which meant—
I had no choice but to stay.
"...Damn it."
I rubbed my forehead tiredly.
Meanwhile, Lena had gone into the city earlier to purchase basic necessities for the apartment.
Apparently, Damian never used this place often enough to stock anything properly.
Which meant we currently owned:
One couch.
Two glasses.
Three forks.
And an alarming amount of expensive alcohol.
Priorities.
Since Lena was busy handling civilization for us, I decided to handle another important matter myself.
That was how I ended up standing in front of the Imperial Bank.
"...Damn."
Even the bank looked expensive.
The massive white building towered over the street like some kind of financial palace.
Tall silver pillars lined the entrance.
Magic lanterns glowed softly along the walls despite it still being daytime.
Guards wearing black uniforms stood near the entrance with mana rifles hanging at their waists.
Mana rifles.
Another reminder that this world was ridiculous.
I adjusted my coat slightly before walking toward the entrance.
The moment I stepped inside—
Silence fell.
Ah.
Right.
People recognized Damian.
Several employees immediately stiffened.
One older receptionist nearly dropped the papers she was holding.
Meanwhile, nearby customers lowered their voices and glanced toward me cautiously.
"...Young Master Valtor."
One employee approached nervously.
Then paused awkwardly.
Probably remembering that I wasn't technically a Valtor anymore.
Ouch.
"...Sir Damian," he corrected carefully.
That somehow sounded even worse.
"I'm here to check my private accounts," I said calmly.
The employee visibly relaxed after realizing I wasn't about to start screaming at random civilians.
Honestly, Damian's reputation must have been horrific if basic politeness surprised people this much.
"Of course, sir," the employee said quickly. "Please follow me."
I was guided toward a private office upstairs.
The room itself was elegant but suffocatingly formal.
Dark wood furniture.
Crystal lamps.
Thick carpets.
A middle-aged banker soon entered carrying several documents.
The moment he saw me, his professional smile faltered slightly.
Again.
Damian had really traumatized half the city, huh?
"Sir Damian," the banker greeted politely as he sat across from me. "I understand you wish to review your personal accounts?"
"Yes."
He nodded before opening the documents carefully.
Then his expression became... strange.
"...I see."
That was never a good reaction.
"How bad is it?" I asked immediately.
The banker coughed awkwardly.
"Well... several accounts connected to House Valtor have already been frozen following your disownment."
Pain.
"However," he continued quickly, "you still retain ownership of your independent assets."
He slid a document toward me.
On that document, I could see the total amount of money I had.
---
Name: Damian Valtor
Account Number: xxxxxxxx87997
Account Balance: 850,321 Credits
I blinked.
Honestly, I had enough to survive.
That was good news.
Satisfied with the result, I turned toward him and said,
"I'd like to use the transfer function. Send 150,000 Credits with this letter to the Imperial Academy Administration, and another 100,000 Credits with this letter separately."
That would leave me with 600,321 Credits.
Enough.
But not enough.
I needed to find better ways to earn money until my frozen asset problem was resolved.
Anyway, I handed over three pre-written letters.
The fine.
The compensation.
And the public apology demanded by the Imperial Academy's disciplinary committee.
Honestly, I didn't want to spend my hard-earned money.
But what choice did I have?
To survive the apocalypse, I had to return to that place.
"That leaves five hundred hours of community service," I muttered tiredly.
The banker adjusted his glasses while reviewing the letters.
"I will arrange the transfers immediately, sir."
There was a brief pause.
Then—
"...Though," he added carefully, "I admit I did not expect you to comply with the academy's disciplinary ruling."
I looked at him flatly.
"Neither did I."
Honestly, Damian's original response made perfect sense from a spoiled noble's perspective.
A public apology?
Community service?
Compensating a commoner?
To someone raised within aristocratic society, that punishment was basically social suicide.
Unfortunately, surviving the future apocalypse took priority over noble pride.
Tragic, really.
The banker coughed politely.
"Would you also like the letters delivered discreetly?"
"Yes."
Absolutely yes.
I didn't need half the academy witnessing Damian Valtor suddenly developing emotional maturity overnight.
That alone would probably start conspiracy theories.
The banker nodded professionally before setting the documents aside.
"Then everything should be completed by tomorrow morning."
Good.
One disaster partially solved.
Only several hundred remained.
I stood up and left the room.
The moment I returned downstairs, however—
The whispers immediately started again.
"That's him..."
"Isn't he the Valtor heir who got expelled?"
"No, disowned."
"I heard he assaulted someone at the academy—"
"I heard the Patriarch almost killed him..."
Amazing.
My reputation was evolving faster than Pokémon.
I ignored the stares and continued toward the exit calmly.
There was no point reacting now.
The original Damian probably would have exploded at hearing commoners gossip about him publicly.
But honestly?
After surviving modern internet comment sections on Earth, this level of slander barely registered emotionally.
Anyway, I should head back to the apartment.
Starting tomorrow, I had five hundred hours of free charity service waiting for me.
I needed to mentally prepare myself for that nightmare.
At least, that's what I thought.
I had no idea those five hundred hours would become the beginning of an entirely different problem.