Lloyd advanced, his eyes blazing with malice. Surprised by the sudden reunion, the illegitimate child remained frozen.
Well… B*stard isn’t the problem for now.
The biggest problem is that f*cking cat. An ugly, fat cat that dared to tamper with my hair and face.
As this was happening, Ruby revealed its claws in a combat stance. Looks like I’ve run into an enemy, no, a rat by chance, and that’s you, you ugly b*stard!
Meow, today you will be the ugliest thing in the world!
Among the three, only the pale-faced Ronell properly understood the current situation. Already having experienced the extent of Lloyd’s violence, she quickly picked up the cat.
She hurried down the hallway. In a state of frenzied desperation, she discarded the slippers that were not made for sprinting along the way.
I have to protect Ruby from Lloyd. Ruby can’t get hurt in any way. No. Never.
Mister, where’s Mister Teriot?
Lloyd laughed hysterically and pursued a distressed Ronell, who had fled from him with tears brimming in her eyes. The blonde-haired illegitimate child scurrying away was nothing more than fair game for him, a person who takes great pleasure in the sport of hunting.
“Hey, B*stard. Where do you think you’re going!”
From behind, came the taunting voice. The giggling sound of laughter gave Ronell goosebumps and threatened to make her burst out crying.
“You’re supposed to come back to our house, anyway! An illegitimate child like you is destined to be sold off!”
It’s clear what the fate of an illegitimate child with a pretty face is. Wouldn’t it be best to be sold as a concubine to a fat old man?
Lloyd paused, holding his stomach as he burst out laughing at the hilarity he found in his own musings. However, just as he sought to resume his attempt to get hold of that frantic golden hair.
“Well, certainly, my mother was illegitimate and was sold off for a political marriage.”
The nape of his neck was seized abruptly by a person with a high-pitched voice.
Lloyd stood tall and stopped. He wanted to look over his shoulder, but he couldn’t lift a finger. Like an insect pinned down for dissection, he felt as though each of his limbs had been punctured and was locked in place.
How come I can’t even blink—
Lloyd struggled to turn his twisted head. Next to a pale man with black hair, a dark gray-haired boy stood with a callous expression.
Who? Who is it? Who’s trying to kill me like this?
Being strangled alive, he couldn’t breathe. And he was unable to stop the hiccups that arose. No matter what he wanted to say, he couldn’t spit it out, and Lloyd’s eyes were frightened.
I have to run away. His survival instincts warned him to escape from this place quickly. His feeble legs apparently froze in their fright and wouldn’t move. He felt that if he stepped forward, he would immediately collapse.
The boy who loved to hunt cruelly was the first to be hunted.
“Ah…”
The Duke, who was staring at the trembling boy, had an expressionless face. Purple eyes stared down at his tattered frame with no sign of a smile.
“Say it again.”
Hiccup.
Lloyd, at a loss for words, hiccupped. As if a cat had gotten his tongue.*
(TL/N: An expression that is used when someone is quiet and isn’t talking or responding when you expect them to.)
“Hey. Say it.”
Hiccup. The sound of hiccups grew louder, probably due to fear.
Teriot watched the boy being terrorised with a stroke of his chin.
Well. It was common knowledge that the Duke’s mother, Yurian, was an illegitimate child. The illegitimate child of the former Prince Siena, she was forced to marry the former Duke Richard as if she had been sold—There were whispers like that in the social circles.
Although the truth is completely different.
In the first place, there was no concept of an illegitimate child in the Siena Duchy, she did not have the blood of the ‘ancestor princess’, and she only wed Duke Richard out of pure love for him rather than for political reasons.
Teriot turned a blind eye as he permitted Bertrand’s coercion.
After all, it was laughable (to be honest) to see him acting like an adult and punishing that filthy scoundrel. So he let the Duke continue with his job and went to soothe the little one.
While the Duke grabbed the boy by the collar and dragged him away, Teriot hurried to Ronell. Bertrand narrowed his eyes, ignoring the wailing boy.
…Oh my God. That ‘Teriot Duncan’ is running.
Teriot Duncan, the former successor of the House of Duncan, was a genius by birth and a sluggard by nature. No. You might say he exemplified the very essence of sloth.
Marvelling at the incredible sight of a running Teriot Duncan, Bertrand caught hold of the boy, who was about to run rampant.
“What the f*ck do you think you’re doing! Hey! Let go! Don’t you know who I am!”
“The duke.”
“What duke, you crazy—”
“I’m the duke. Bertrand Würchen Frederick Le Richard. That’s my name.”
However illiterate he may have been, he certainly seemed familiar with the Duke’s name. Bertrand held back his mirth as he looked down at the unbridled person in his hands, who had immediately shrank when he heard his words.
How disgusting. His father was the same way, but at least he can distinguish between the strong and the weak.
Bertrand dragged the child roughly down the hallway until he came upon Aisa, who was moving around the mansion.
“Your Highness. It has— Oh my, this person is.”
“It’s the son of Count Artes. Where are Count Artes and Miss Aicila?”
“They are in Miss’s study. …Would you like me to come with you?”
“Please.”
Thus, the Duke was able to arrive safely at the study.
When the Count and his wife leapt up in surprise as soon as they saw him, Bertrand let the child go as if he were being thrown and spat out crookedly.
“Your son insulted my mother.”
It was only natural that the Count and Countess’s complexions had turned white.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Not even considering the possibility that Lloyd would make a fuss in the hallway, the Count and his wife entered the study with Aicila. It was a spacious and pleasant room filled with early sunshine.
As soon as the door closed, Count Artes attempted to press Aicila about Ronell’s location. But the Countess spoke much faster.
While his wife complimented the pleasant aroma of the tea as she drank it with poise, Aicila played along with her charade with an innocent face.
“My favorite one when I was little was certainly Cheka Tea. Drying the White Lotus—”
“Miss Duncan.”
“When it comes to Cheka Tea, it is made of rolled up White Lotus flowers and dried in Tishlen smoke. There are certainly similar teas in the Siena Duchy.”
“Madam, wait a minute. Miss Duncan.”
“It seems like my husband has something to tell Miss Duncan.”
His wife bit her lips with a coy look. Aicila cast a glance at her cold expression and briefly ordered.
“Bark.”
“…Miss Duncan. You’re so rude, have some manners.”
“It must have been polite of you to sit for days in front of the mansion, acting as though you were protesting.”
“Was it polite to sprinkle salt on the person waiting, then?”
“I thought you were possessed. In Fernburg, people sprinkle salt on human waste who are doing deranged things.”
When he heard her casual reply, the Count’s indignation surged and he tightened his grip over the teacup. The unique texture of the silky porcelain was smoothly wrapped around his fingertips.
“But you’re such a piece of trash that even the ghosts seem to avoid you. I’ll admit I might have made a mistake.”
“Stop barking and give me Ronell. You Duncans have no reason to keep the child.”
“Return an abused child to an abusive family? In that case, you’ll be viewed more like a monster than a piece of garbage, Count.”
In response to Aicila’s reply, the Count carefully selected his words and began to recite the sentences he had prepared beforehand.
“Miss Duncan. We have fully reflected on ourselves, so we will no longer abuse the child—”
“No.”
A low-pitched voice interrupted the Count’s words.
Surprised by the sudden rebuttal, the Count turned to look to the side, and Aicila tilted her head in the same posture with her legs crossed.
“I can’t say that for sure.”
Came the Countess’s cold voice as she made a decisive declaration similar to drawing a sword. It was an assertion that left no room for retreat.
Aicila lifted her hand and, acting natural, covered her lips.
She was well aware that the Countess was a worthless trash for committing child abuse. It was for this reason that she had flipped the Count’s manor upside down. The fact that an 8-year-old had been so severely beaten and tortured that she had passed out was indisputable.
But.
‘…Ho, I didn’t expect this kind of development.’
As Aicila sighed inwardly, the woman’s voice slipped out through her quivering lips. Her tone sounded calm and serene for such a grating voice.
“You, do you have any idea what kind of gossip I hear floating around in the social world?”
It was a question she would normally never ask in front of others. A question she could never ask due to her devastation by the blow to her dignity.
“An ugly woman who failed to take care of her husband properly. How unattractive the wife must have been for her husband to cheat on her.”
“……”
“That kind of interest. This kind of sympathy. That kind of mockery.”
Aicila lowered her eyes at the heavy voice.
No matter how innocent the child was when they’re born, he can’t force his wife to love an illegitimate child he brought home.
The Count squirmed in his seat as if uncomfortable.
“Madam, if I had known—”
“Those are the words that only you aren’t aware of.”
“……”
“Did I cheat on you? Did I have an affair? Did I betray you? You did it.”
She won’t deny that she’s an abusive monster.
However, she cannot bear that the man responsible for the tragic seed was insistent on bringing back that child. She couldn’t accept the fact that the tragedy would continue.
“But why must it always be me who is singled out for pity and scorn? Why did you leave me to handle all the scathing rumors and carry on with your life like you did nothing wrong?”
“…Madam.”
“You’ve already made me unhappy enough. Are you not satisfied with that?”
“Madam!”
She felt so relieved to hear that scream.
It was only after she fell deep into the abyss did she admit that she had fallen, but it was so liberating to be able to let it out for once.
“Don’t tell me to like her. If you’re still even human, that is.”
“Madam, why are you like this all of a sudden—”
The absurdity of the question made her gaze at him bemusedly. The woman, holding back the desire to clutch her forehead, lashed out at the whining child.
“I’m telling you not to take her back.”
“No, we’re here to get the child back! She has to come back to us!”
How can you still refuse to give in? Whether or not he noticed his wife was bleakly staring at him, the Count let out an exclamation.
“Abusive treatment is never anything to be proud of, Madam! I’m just saying that I’m going to correct it, but for what reason—”
“……”
“—for what reason. How could you gloat about continuing to commit such despicable deeds?”
How can you speak so boldly?
The woman opened her mouth to answer but then closed it again. She was so consumed by her own boiling passion that she couldn’t even speak.
How could I act so brashly, you ask? Can he really be so f*cking dim?
Ha. Of course abuse is not something to boast about. Yet again, she doesn’t deny that she is a human slime who mistreated an innocent child.
But if you know abuse isn’t something to be proud of, then why aren’t you ashamed about your negligence, you lunatic. You who, rather than admitting his own faults and offering an apology, dumps filthy water on me?
The Countess, at her wit’s end from the stress of the situation, let loose a searing ball of repressed rage. Her sense of ignominy, misery, remorse, and shame were set ablaze.
“What you’re saying is just ridiculous and unbelievable. What the hell is this!”
Ara: Hmmm, the Countess got a point tho. Although she’s a villain for abusing Ronell, she can also be a victim because of her husband. Wahhh conflicting~ conflicting, I tell you~
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