When Aether was suddenly ordered by the king to head to the northern battlefront, he felt a bitter disappointnt at the thought that he wouldn’t be able to visit his Little Star for a while.
He had never expected that he would end up encountering her in the Northern Mountains—not in the capital’s estate, not as "Atel," but in his true form.
Despite being caught off guard by their unexpected eting, he had ensured that Little Star found shelter from the storm and remained by her side until her party arrived to retrieve her.
Even after leaving to avoid drawing unwanted attention to their connection, he had planned to quietly watch from a distance, making sure she returned safely.
"Tailfur!"
Seeing Carl there was an unexpected surprise.
"Older brother?"
Hearing Little Star address him that way was even more bewildering.
Aether had barely arrived at the army unit he was supposed to join when he began hearing stories about the Lady of Aslan.
A brilliant young lady who had prevented a catastrophe by resolving the military supply warehouse fire.
An extraordinary young noble who, despite her age, had made groundbreaking discoveries out of deep concern for the territory's people.
A fragile girl who had been recuperating in the capital due to poor health but returned to the North upon hearing of her family’s difficulties!
The rumors were completely different from the Little Star he knew, deepening Aether’s suspicions.
The environnt he had personally witnessed at the capital’s estate had been far from what one would expect for a noble child rely staying at a relative’s house for "recuperation."
So, he had ordered a discreet investigation.
The results had yet to arrive, but he already had a strong suspicion regarding the culprit.
"The owner of the capital estate was none other than Viscountess Siurus."
And now, it was ti for the findings to be delivered.
Blending in among the guests at the Aslan estate’s banquet, one of his n approached him.
"Your Highness."
"The report?"
"Yes. Here is the investigation you ordered."
Aether imdiately took the docunt and flipped through it.
With each passing page, his once indifferent eyes grew colder, hardening like steel.
***
anwhile, during the banquet
The Duke had montarily stepped away and entered his office.
"His Highness, Prince Aether, instructed that this docunt be delivered imdiately to Your Grace."
"It's related to my daughter?"
The letter, sent urgently on behalf of the First Prince, stated that it contained an urgent matter concerning his child.
The Duke took the docunts handed to him and began reading carefully.
At so point, his eyes darkened as he rapidly flipped through the pages, and before he reached the last one—
BANG!
He shot up from his seat, slamming the papers onto his desk so forcefully that the entire office shook.
A suffocating bloodlust began to fill the room.
"G-Grand Duke..."
A choked voice ca from one of the aides standing nearby, but the Duke paid no mind.
He was so consud by the shock that nothing else even registered.
"Is this true?"
His voice, laced with seething rage, carried the low growl of a lion ready to strike.
His beastkin nature was beginning to surface as his fury surged uncontrollably.
"Answer ."
The deeper his golden eyes burned with rage, the heavier the suffocating pressure beca.
His retainers, caught in the presence of a predator baring its fangs, could do nothing but lower their heads in silence.
"Is this true?"
"Y-Your Grace..."
The First Prince’s ssenger, trembling under the Duke’s glare, tried to speak but couldn’t force out the words under the oppressive weight of his wrath.
Seeing the man’s silence, the Duke no longer needed an answer.
If there had been even one falsehood in the report, the man would have denied it outright.
The lack of denial was confirmation enough.
His fierce golden gaze turned back to the crumpled docunts on the desk.
Those papers detailed, without omission, the life Beatty had endured in the capital estate.
After the Duke had been deployed to the battlefield and unable to return to his territory for an extended period, everything changed for his daughter.
The best room in the estate had been taken away and replaced with a servant’s quarters in a remote corner of the house.
The jewelry left by her mother had disappeared into others’ pockets.
Her als had always arrived cold—if they arrived at all.
Not only had she never been given new clothes, but even her old, tattered garnts hadn’t been nded.
Even the lowest-ranked servants had dared to mock and belittle her.
For a re servant to openly ridicule the noble daughter of a Grand Duke, soone must have given them permission to do so.
"So my daughter... my child was treated like this."
A searing rage, like molten lava, consud him from within.
"Where did I go wrong?"
Had he been mistaken to leave her in the care of her mother’s relatives?
Had he not been suspicious enough despite the reports he received?
Why hadn’t the doctors he sent detected anything wrong?
One question after another tornted him.
But, in the end, all his self-bla led to one undeniable truth.
"I should have been there for her."
An agonizing guilt clawed at his chest.
He had failed to protect the most precious thing in his world.
And he would never forgive himself for it.
"Y-Your Grace!"
A startled cry rang out.
The Duke had bitten his lip so hard that blood dripped down his chin, alarming his subordinates.
Ignoring the wound, he grabbed the crumpled report from his desk.
"This..."
He glared at it as if it were a prophecy foretelling the end of the world.
"If even one person was responsible for any part of what happened to my daughter..."
CRACK.
The report was crushed in his fist.
His eyes glead like a beast lurking in the dark, ready to strike down its prey.
"Drag every last one of them here."
He was going to make them all pay.
The lion was prepared to be the harshest executioner of them all.
And he already knew who the first one would be.
"Bring
Pirina Siurus. NOW."
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
His voice was a guttural growl, filled with raw, unrestrained fury.
"Yes, Your Grace!"
"At once!"
His subordinates, terrified for their lives, scrambled to obey.
If they failed to deliver those responsible, they might very well share the sa fate.
Just as they were about to leave—
BANG!
The office doors slamd open.
"......"
Standing there, as indifferent as ever, was Carl Aslan.
"D-Duke's heir...?"
'Of all tis... why now?!'
Seeing Carl arrive at this exact mont, the aides felt their nerves tighten.
They had never once seen Carl de-escalate his father’s anger—if anything, he had a habit of aggravating it further.
And, sure enough—
"What are you doing, fussing over a bunch of paper?"
Carl’s first words were exactly what they feared most.
"No, no, no! The Duke is already furious—how much worse can this get?!"
"Young Master, His Grace has issued an urgent order. Perhaps it would be best if you returned later..."
Soone, practically risking their life, tried to intervene.
Carl slowly turned his gaze toward the speaker.
Gasp!
The aide nearly choked on his own breath.
Carl’s usually emotionless eyes were filled with sothing far more chilling than usual.
"You still don’t know?"
"Know... what...?"
The people in the room looked at Carl with puzzled expressions.
However, Carl was not the type to kindly explain things to anyone unless they were a certain little girl.
"Hmm."
Ignoring their questions, his gaze naturally swept across the room until it landed on the crumpled stack of docunts his father had discarded.
Rustle.
A single page had slipped from the Duke’s grasp and fallen to the floor. Carl bent down and picked it up.
On the thin sheet of paper, disgusting words were printed in black ink.
As he read them, Carl was once again faced with the incident that had first ignited a rage so fierce it shook his very core.
His lips curled into a dangerous smile.
"You're awfully late."
Between his narrowed eyes, his pupils glead dark and murky, like an endless, stormy sea of pure loathing.
Carl had acted the mont his friend had inford him—but despite that, his words applied just as much to himself.
The self-loathing he felt for not realizing sooner was absolutely disgusting.
“Carl.”
His father’s voice still carried the weight of seething rage, but Carl remained unfazed, lifting his head lazily.
"Have you seen Pirina Siurus?"
"And why would that matter?"
"I need to hear her answer for myself."
The Duke’s voice, as he ground her na through his teeth, was laced with the nacing aura of a predator about to rip its prey apart.
Carl let out a quiet chuckle, a smirk of amusent tugging at the corners of his lips.
He turned, his steps slow and deliberate, walking toward the doors of the study.
Then—
"Ask her yourself."
CREAK.
The doors swung wide open.
And standing there—bound tightly, trembling like a criminal awaiting execution—
Was Pirina Siurus.
Reviews
All reviews (0)