Episode 92

Though he had stepped down from his position, the influence carried by the name Thergon Drenihan was immense.

The moment he directly named Sierra as his most cherished granddaughter and the successor of Drenihan, any lingering dissent within the faction dissolved completely.

Even the nobles who had seemed ready to voice their opinions fell silent, their eyes darting nervously.

“Well, I trust you all understand now. As much as I appreciate the effort you made to visit, seeing as I’m in good health, I think it’s time for you all to head back.”

“Ah, yes…! Seeing you in such fine health puts our minds at ease.”

“Indeed! I was certain you would recover completely!”

“It is late, so we’ll take our leave now and visit properly another time…!”

These nobles, often referred to as the Anti-Sevrin faction, had long supported Marquis Avon. They had rallied behind his grievances about the tangled family lineage and championed his cause.

From the moment the marquis and baron were dragged off to the underground prison, their expressions had been less than favorable. By the time Thergon openly exuded his sharp intent, they were on the verge of fainting.

Their desperation to leave was clear as they bowed deeply, plastered on fake smiles, and quickly retreated.

After their hasty departure, the hallway remained filled with Drenihan’s servants, many of whom still seemed stunned by Thergon’s return.

A few discreetly wiped tears from their eyes.

To those who had spent their lives loyally serving Drenihan, Thergon Drenihan was more than just a master—he was a symbol of strength and stability.

At that moment, Thergon stumbled slightly.

“Grandfather!”

Sierra quickly moved to support him, her voice laced with worry.

“Are you still feeling dizzy?”

“It’s nothing, nothing. I’ve been lying down for too long, that’s all.”

He had, after all, been under the curse for an entire month and unconscious for another week.

He was certainly overexerting himself.

He had even used his mystical abilities to project strength in front of the marquis’s faction, who had swarmed like vultures.

“Your Grace, you must rest now. You need to return to bed for a thorough examination.”

“Alex, you’re always such a worrywart.”

“It’s not being a worrywart! Grandfather, listen to Alex this time, please?”

Thergon, who had been brushing off Alex’s concerns, sighed in resignation when Sierra joined in. Begrudgingly, he allowed them to guide him back to his room.

Once there, he underwent a detailed examination from the physician who had rushed to see him.

The diagnosis? Nothing but minor malnutrition.

“See? I told you there was no need to worry,” Thergon said smugly.

“Even so, you need to manage your health carefully. Considering you were under a curse for a month, it’s a miracle you’re in such good shape.”

As Sierra held his hand, offering advice, Thergon gazed at her thoughtfully before speaking.

“I saw it all, Sierra.”

“What… do you mean?”

“Even earlier, I was watching from that foolish dark sorcerer’s body.”

“What? I don’t understand…”

As Sierra looked at him in shock, he ruffled her hair with a mischievous smile.

“When a curse is lifted, the caster’s consciousness is shared. While I was asleep, I shared the dark sorcerer’s thoughts… and today, I saw you.”

Sharing the consciousness of a caster—a concept so mysterious and rare that it was almost unheard of in the world of magic.

“The Archduke’s sword is impressively sharp.”

Thergon chuckled, rubbing his side where Ludwig had struck Roil.

“Did you even feel the pain?” Sierra asked, startled.

“It was quite the refreshing experience.”

Calling such a traumatic moment “refreshing” was so quintessentially Thergon that Sierra could only stare in amazement.

“But that’s not what matters. What matters is that you came to find me.”

With a gentle smile on his face, he added, “That alone means the world to me.”

“Thank you, Sierra.”

Thergon, a man notoriously poor at expressing his emotions, spoke earnestly, allowing his heartfelt words to surface for once.

“In the moments when my consciousness was fading and I was on the verge of death, I found myself thinking about many things. Especially about you.”

“Why me?” Sierra asked softly.

“When you were little, I used to think I should have been kinder to you, more attentive to that tiny, fragile child. It’s one of those trivial regrets.”

Indeed, the Thergon Sierra remembered from her childhood was not a warm or affectionate man. He had always been overwhelmingly busy.

But she knew now that he had changed. At some point, the walls between them had crumbled.

One thing was clear—Thergon was not the type to repeat mistakes he regretted.

As he gently patted her head, Sierra smiled faintly.

Just then, a knight hurriedly entered the room, bowing deeply before speaking.

“My apologies for interrupting, Your Grace.”

“What is it?”

“The Marquis Avon, who was transferred to the underground prison, suddenly began vomiting blood and… has died.”

“What?” Thergon’s tone sharpened.

He had been fine just a short while ago. How could this happen so suddenly?

“It was shortly after we began interrogating him about ‘Twilight.’ He had remained completely silent when, all of a sudden, he collapsed….”

With the binding curse of “Twilight” on him, it was unlikely the marquis would have willingly divulged anything about the organization. The agony of violating the curse’s terms would have been unbearable.

However, according to the knight, the marquis had not spoken a word before he collapsed.

That could only mean…

“He clutched at his arm in visible agony before falling. When we checked, it was at the site of the curse’s mark.”

“It seems the leader of Twilight has made their move,” Serkhan said as he rose from his seat.

“This implies they’ve been watching the situation closely all along.”

In a group of notoriously individualistic dark sorcerers, it was highly unusual for the leader to take a vested interest in a specific contract.

“The leader of Twilight is involved in this,” Sierra thought, her expression darkening.

“Once might be a coincidence, but twice? Could it really be just happenstance?”

The night of the previous banquet, and now this incident—these were two separate encounters with Twilight’s dark sorcerers.

Both events were directly tied to Drenihan.

Was it just overthinking to suspect that Twilight had deliberately targeted both Orzen and Marquis Avon?

It seemed Sierra wasn’t alone in her suspicions.

“We don’t know their true intentions, but we can’t assume there won’t be a next time,” Thergon said gravely. “Be especially cautious, Sierra. You too, Serkhan.”

* * *

It had already been a week since Marquis Avon and Baron Jetrin, once key pillars of the Drenihan faction, were cast out.

The Avon Marquisate crumbled alongside the death of its head, while Baron Jetrin, after grueling torture, confessed his crimes and was sentenced to life imprisonment.

“It all passed like a storm,” I thought, taking a sip of the tea before me.

I was at a tea house nestled on a quiet street in the capital, enjoying a rare moment of tranquility in a sunlit corner.

“Does the tea suit your taste?”

“Yes, it’s wonderfully fragrant.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

I was sitting across from Ludwig, chatting idly about trivial matters.

This tea house, with its elegant decor and meticulous upkeep by its seasoned owner, belonged to Ludwig.

I’d seen it a few times while passing through the area—always bustling with customers—but today, it was just the two of us.

“It’s strange, isn’t it? It’s nearly noon, and we’re the only ones here.”

“On the tea house’s monthly day off, I reserve the entire place. Today happens to be that day.”

“Ah, I see.”

As I popped a piece of cake into my mouth, the sweet cream melted effortlessly, leaving me astonished at how exquisite it was—better than any dessert I’d ever tasted. My amazement brought a faint chuckle from Ludwig.

“If Sierra doesn’t mind, would you care to join me on my dull holidays from now on? You’re welcome to visit on any of these reserved days.”

“That sounds wonderful. I’ve always wanted to visit, but the long lines usually put me off.”

I’d gladly welcome more tea times like this.

The tea house’s large glass windows allowed plenty of sunlight to pour in, yet the reporters who usually pounced on any meeting between Ludwig and me were nowhere to be seen. It seemed the combined pressure of Karsian and Drenihan had worked wonders.

Just then, the soft chime of the bell rang out as the tea house door swung open.

The owner, polishing a teacup with a cloth, turned to address the unexpected visitor.

“Today is our scheduled day off. I’d appreciate it if you could visit us another time.”

“A scheduled day off? Oh, I didn’t realize….”

The voice, as clear as the bell’s chime, was familiar enough to make me turn my head—and there, I saw an unexpected figure.

The visitor also spotted me and widened her eyes in surprise.

“Oh my, Lady Sierra?”

 

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡ ⋆

☕ Hi, friends! Your support means the world to me. If you’d like, you can buy me a coffee here: Click the link on the image! 💖

Thank you for keeping me inspired! 🌸

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆