My System Just Exploded, And You Ask Me to Become a God?-Chapter 58 --The Owner of the Letter

The moment those words were spoken, an uproar swept through the banquet hall.

The First Prince’s eyes were fixed on Joad with undisguised hostility, and even Clark wore a gleeful smirk, relishing Joad’s predicament.

Ivy stepped forward, wanting to explain, but the Third Prince quickly stopped her with a subtle shake of his head.

"Now is not the time to walk into the trap of trying to prove innocence. If Joad starts defending himself, it will only solidify their accusation that he snuck in."

Just then, a cold voice chimed in, "Your Highness, why bother defending someone like him? He’s not even from the Luminous Pearl Kingdom."

Joad turned and saw a gaunt young man glaring at him, a sinister smile curling on his lips.

Baphomet leaned closer to Joad and whispered, "Don’t mind him. He’s the son of Count Greypine. The Count himself is an archmage-level powerhouse, so his family acts as arrogantly as they please."

As soon as he finished speaking, the glamorous woman clinging to Count Greypine’s son turned to Ivy and chuckled coldly.

"Miss Ivy, you really have poor judgment. Associating so closely with a suspected criminal—aren’t you worried about how this will reflect on House Rima?"

"Your behavior could very well stain your family’s reputation."

In an instant, all the scorn and suspicion in the room turned toward Joad and Ivy.

Ivy let out a quiet sigh, then lowered her head. Her expression grew uneasy.

If it were just about herself, she wouldn’t care in the slightest what others said or thought.

But she didn’t represent only herself—she knew all too well that wherever she went, people would see her as the face of House Rima.

Every move she made was scrutinized, every action overanalyzed.

This was the burden of being the family’s figurehead.

But she also knew that the one feeling worse than her right now... was probably Joad.

To be misunderstood and falsely accused—this was a common tactic used by people of the Luminous Pearl Kingdom.

And Ivy wasn’t sure if someone from a straightforward, honest nation like Ilan could handle this kind of slander.

Especially when it came from nearly every talented youth in the kingdom, all piling on with collective disdain.

Baphomet shared Ivy’s concern. He, too, was curious to see how Joad would respond.

He recalled a moment from his own past—back when he had just been named Third Prince.

By sheer misfortune, he had once found himself in a similar situation: wrongfully accused, surrounded by scorn, and utterly unable to clear his name.

It had left him feeling humiliated for a long time afterward.

Surely Joad must be feeling the same...

"Hmm?"

Baphomet slowly turned his head.

But when he saw Joad’s face, he was completely taken aback.

Joad wasn’t angry.

He wasn’t flustered or ashamed.

His expression was exactly the same as before—calm, unaffected, as if the barrage of accusations meant absolutely nothing to him.

And then, he did something no one expected.

He took two steps back, subtly creating distance between himself and Ivy, and said casually,

"I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I don’t actually know Miss Ivy. I came to the banquet alone."

"Oh? So you weren’t invited by His Highness the Third Prince, nor are you traveling with the daughter of House Rima."

"Then how exactly did you get in here? Since when has the Nova Banquet become a place where chickens and stray dogs can wander in freely?"

Count Greypine’s son was utterly unrestrained, pressing forward with aggressive disdain.

Joad raised an eyebrow and glanced at him.

"Someone sent me a letter inviting me here. So, I came."

"What? A letter? Hahahaha!"

Laughter erupted throughout the hall.

Everyone here knew that in a metropolis like the Luminous Pearl Kingdom, the mana-net spanned the entire nation.

If someone wanted to communicate, all they had to do was activate their mana and conjure a magical projection to chat face-to-face.

A letter? What kind of outdated method was that?

Was he some relic from an era that still used beacon fires for long-distance messages?

After they had laughed their fill, Count Greypine’s son suddenly turned serious and said loudly,

"Your Highness Belzebuth, I strongly suspect this man is lying."

"He claims someone sent him a letter? Then let’s see it. Let him take it out and show everyone!"

Clark also joined in.

"Your Highness, I don’t think he’s acting alone. This could be a foreign spy, trying to infiltrate our banquet to carry out some sinister plan."

Things were clearly getting out of hand.

Now there were even accusations of espionage being thrown around.

Baphomet realized the situation was escalating too fast.

He quickly leaned over and whispered to Joad, "If they really demand to see the letter, use this."

He slipped a rolled-up piece of parchment into Joad’s hand.

But Joad simply shook his head.

"No need. I really do have the letter."

"...Huh?"

Baphomet was momentarily stunned.

Just then, the butler who had previously been collecting the banquet gifts stepped forward again and held out his hand toward Joad.

"Oh? You claim to have an invitation? Then let’s see it. Show it to me."

Joad didn’t bother arguing.

He simply reached into his coat and pulled out the folded letter.

The butler had a look of disdain at first, clearly expecting some kind of fake.

But the moment his eyes landed on the signature at the bottom of the parchment, his entire body froze.

"Th-this... you... I..."

The butler stammered, his words tangled and incoherent as he looked back and forth between Joad and the letter.

His entire demeanor had shifted to one of sheer panic.

Everyone nearby noticed the change and began to whisper in confusion.

Prince Belzebuth stepped forward, placing a heavy hand on the butler’s shoulder.

"Don’t be nervous. I’ve got your back. Just say it loud and clear—who wrote the letter?"

With a loud thud, the butler collapsed to his knees and cried out:

"It... It was Lady Vanessa!"

"What?!"

Belzebuth’s face twisted in disbelief.

He knelt down and snatched the letter from the butler’s trembling hands.

A moment later, he too fell silent.

"...Vanessa. It’s actually from Vanessa?!"

Clark’s eyes went wide with shock.

He scurried over to Belzebuth and whispered, "Your Highness... this has to be some kind of mistake, right?"

"The heir of the Crimsonflame Marquis—someone of her stature—how could she possibly invite that bumpkin to a banquet? And with a handwritten letter, no less!"

The disbelief rippled through the entire crowd.

Even Baphomet looked genuinely surprised.

He hadn’t expected this outcome either.

"See for yourself," Belzebuth said, throwing the letter at Clark’s chest.

Clark caught it, handling the paper with exaggerated care.

He scrutinized it thoroughly—every detail of the handwriting, the faint mana traces embedded in the ink.

And when he was done, his face turned a sickly shade of gray.

There was no doubt. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

Both the penmanship and the mana signature confirmed that the sender was indeed the sole heir to the Crimsonflame Marquis—Vanessa.

Joad watched all of this unfold and finally let out a chuckle.

"Hey," he said, his voice light but biting.

"Have you stared at it long enough?"

"Why don’t you tell me—was that letter written by your oh-so-sacred Crimsonflame Marquis heir, or not?"