100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full? Chapter 1 - Lootwell

"Young master, it’s time to wake up."

A dignified elderly gentleman with graceful poise entered the bedroom.

His perfectly fitted suit screamed butler from every seam.

He gazed at the huddled shape beneath the heavy blanket—the one he called ’young master’.

Moving silently, he reached the bed and softly prodded the sleeping youth.

"Arghh damn. Is it morning already? Got it, Sebastian! Stop shaking me and wait outside!" The drowsy, grumpy voice shot back.

The butler halted briefly. "Young master, my name is Sebas... I’ll wait outside." Sensing no point in debate now, he withdrew with elegant poise.

The young master sluggishly propped himself up, scrubbing sleep from his eyes. Clarity returned, revealing the cozy, familiar chamber around him.

"Sigh... I could never get used to this." He grumbled softly.

Lucien Lootwell was the heir to a noble baronial house. Existence had offered him comfort, security, privilege, and the subtle opulence of aristocracy.

That changed... when a bizarre calamity hit the barony merely a month prior. It started mild, then exploded fiercely.

Even his parents, Baron and Baroness, fell to a cryptic "illness." Their passings struck abruptly, without reason, carving an unprepared chasm.

Shock plunged Lucien into coma for a week. Upon awakening...

Awareness wasn’t alone... Forgotten recollections erupted forth.

Recollections from another existence!

Once, he dwelled in a realm utterly alien here. Modern, ordinary against this swirl of sorcery and nobility. To his old self, this place screamed fantasy tale.

Maybe trauma’s shield or body’s balm, past-life memories now eclipsed current ones. Here, merely 12-year-old lad... there, he’d reached 22 before demise.

Lucien exhaled deeply. Dual lives’ burden crushed him; death’s echo resurfaced.

Previously, college booted Lucien—not for poor grades, but fiery rage.

Justice burned hot; bullies ignited his fury. Repeatedly, he charged in... fists flying.

Righteous protector of weaklings, he thought. Society disagreed harshly.

Jaded, resentful, he abandoned ’heroics.’ No more schools sought. He withdrew into solitude, apathy’s abyss swallowing him.

Gaming marathons wasted his life till collapse. Void claimed him, then... rebirth.

"Pathetic."

Self-deriding mutter escaped.

"Truly pathetic! I died a virgin?! Gahhh!" He wailed, gripping his skull.

Knock knock.

"Young master, are you alright?" Sebas voiced worry.

"Quiet, Sebastian!"

"It’s Sebas!"

Lucien sighed. ’Who skips Sebastian for their butler?’ Resigned thought crossed.

He climbed from bed, slipping into attire.

Thoughts drifted to parents—tender hearts, overly so. Fate snuffed them abruptly.

Coma barred him from their rites.

Deeper torment: sister’s solo ordeal.

The sorrow.

Duties crushing.

Rallying the fractured domain.

Her silent agony, he envisioned vividly.

Mourning barely begun, yet barony demanded rule, Lucien’s care, chaos quelled.

As sole son, heir’s mantle fit Lucien. Territory’s reins his by right. But 12 years young? None trusted the load on him. Turmoil reigned; despair loomed.

Eyes fluttering post-coma, sister burst in, clinging desperately. That clasp revealed her utter weariness, torment. Still, sole believer in him.

Lucien doubted parents’ ends as natural. One mishap coincidence. Multiples? Foul plot brewed.

Clad and steady, he exited, signaling Sebas. "Take me to my sister."

Sebas strode ahead assuredly, Lucien trailing.

Corridor trek hushed Lucien’s words.

Manor’s former bustle now ghostly quiet. Joy, vitality vanished.

Just four retainers left, Sebas among.

Lucien’s chest tightened in pain...

Study arrived.

Sebas bowed, lingering without as Lucien slipped in softly.

Vivian Lootwell bent over paper-strewn desk. Eye bags marred, yet soft allure glowed. Chestnut locks cascaded silkily. Lucien halted, struck by her tenacity.

Spotting him, Vivian’s gaze brightened. Warm smile bloomed; she stood, hugging fiercely.

"My cute little brother, Lulu! You’re here."

"Ahem. Sister, please call me anything but Lulu."

"Why not? I’ve always called you that."

"Just... Lu or Luc is fine." he insisted, cheeks faintly flushed.

Past life tainted ’lulu’ awkwardly. Sister’s use mortified Lucien.

Vivian cocked head puzzled, dropping it. Brother shifted post-coma—graver, adult-like.

’Puberty,’ sad smile thought. ’Perhaps blessing.’

Parents’ loss depressed him too, she knew.

Vivian hugged firmer. "We have a problem," she murmured gently.

Twelve-year-old frame dwarfed by fifteen-year-old sister’s; her hold pinned him helplessly.

Lucien held quiet, awaiting words.

"Tomorrow’s the day. Are you ready to take over, brother?"

Lucien’s gaze hardened. Moment passed; resolve rang firm.

"You don’t have to worry about a thing, sister. I’ve been studying nonstop and I’m a fast learner. By the time you return, everything will be in order."

Vaultmere Kingdom law bound nobles to Academy at fifteen. Defiance equaled betrayal. Vivian compelled to depart.

Fist balled tight. Failure unthinkable. She alone remained.

Abrupt hum shattered reverie.

Bzzz... bzzz...

Bee buzzed indoors.

Lucien’s eyes narrowed sharply.

"Sis, don’t move," he cautioned, bee perched on her.

Lucien feared a sting for Vivian.

Quick as lightning, he swatted.

SLAP!

But...

"Kyaah!"

Vivian yelped, startled wide. ’Did... he slap my butt?!’

Bee unseen by her; Lucien speechless in shock.

"No! We’re siblings!" she screamed. Instinctive smack hit Lucien’s face; beet-red, she fled room.

Lucien froze stock-still, cheek-hand rubbing, other raised astonished.

"Sh*t! Now I’ve done it." Offending palm fixed in stare.

Then... gradually... He lifted it to nose in dazed wonder.

Abruptly...

[CONDITIONS MET]

Icy, robotic tone echoed mentally.