The child’s words were far too mature for their age, but Calion didn’t think much of it. He simply watched as his son staggered to his feet, assessing his condition.
His silver-gray eyes traced the magic seeping from the child’s body.
“Is breaking off the marriage really that difficult?”
“It’s not difficult.”
“Then what is it?!”
His ruthless father always did as he pleased, and marriage was no exception. He had completely disregarded Milena’s objections, as if they were insignificant. That was just the kind of man he was.
Poor Aunt Milena.
Fury flared in the child’s eyes as he erupted in anger at Calion’s heartlessness.
“Why are you tormenting her?! You said you’d bring in any woman!”
As the child’s emotions surged, his unstable magic flared uncontrollably. Calion effortlessly deflected the raging energy with a wooden training sword.
“I told you, didn’t I? If you can properly face me, I will grant your request.”
It was absurd. Even if they shared the same magic, the gap in their abilities was vast.
But he refused to give up.
Despite his unstable control, the boy believed that if he could harness his magic, he might be able to stand against his father—just enough to save Milena.
For his aunt’s freedom.
“Ahhh!”
The child put forth his best effort, but Calion didn’t even meet his sword. With mere force alone, he sent Ashdel flying.
Ashdel was far more skilled than children his age, but he was still no match for a grand duke.
Calion remained unfazed, handling the boy without moving a single step. His face was expressionless as he looked down at Ashdel, evaluating him like a commodity, assessing his worth as an heir.
“Hah… haah…”
No matter how many times he tried, the towering wall before him remained unscathed. The only thing breaking was his small, fragile body.
“Are you giving up? At this level, you won’t be able to protect Milena Lastia, whom you cherish so much.”
Ashdel bit down on his lower lip until it bled. He clutched his wooden sword, but simply standing was all he could do.
The helplessness stung, and his eyes welled up with tears.
‘Crying over something like this is what little kids do.’
At seven years old, he thought of himself as all grown up. But his body was still weak, and his unstable magic only made it worse.
“Until the wedding is over, you will stay in bed. No causing trouble. Act like the heir you are.”
Act like the heir.
The weight of those words made Ashdel clench his trembling eyes shut.
Until the wedding is over.
That meant he would be confined to bed for days. He understood what was coming next and braced himself for the blow.
Not enough to kill him—but just enough to bring him to the brink.
It would be an attack so powerful he wouldn’t be able to walk for a while.
As he tensed his body, preparing for the sword strike flying toward him—
“Ashdel!”
Warmth enveloped his arm as he was yanked backward.
At the same time, bang! A deafening crash echoed as the sword struck the wall instead.
Ashdel flinched at the sound of the crumbling wall and slowly opened his tightly shut eyes.
Ah.
Tears that had been welling up spilled down his round cheeks.
His gaze landed on the back of the woman who had shielded him.
“Aunt….”
It was the back of an adult protecting a child.
Different from the man who only saw his son as a tool.
Without realizing it, Ashdel clutched tightly onto Milena’s dress.
The wooden sword meant to strike him had changed course at the last moment, grazing Milena’s cheek before embedding into the wall.
A thin, crimson cut marked her face, strands of hair severed by the blow fluttering to the ground.
“Aunt!”
Blood trickled down her cheek, and Ashdel’s eyes widened in horror.
His shock turned to rage, and he prepared to charge at Calion, but Milena held him firmly in place.
She kept her grip tight, not letting him move, and instead, fixed her gaze directly on the grand duke.
“Your Grace, this is not Ashdel’s scheduled sword training time.”
Her stance, shielding the child, was almost laughable.
When had she ever cared for him?
Was this just another attempt to gain favor?
Calion’s mouth curled slightly, though his wooden sword remained pointed at her.
“Why? Have you decided to play mother instead of a nanny now?”
“…….”
She knew exactly what he was implying.
She had once volunteered to be Ashdel’s nanny to stay in Calion’s good graces.
His mocking words forced her to recall that shameful past, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.
Playing mother, was it?
Did he still think she wanted to marry him?
There was only one way to unsettle the ever-arrogant Grand Duke.
She knew his weakness better than anyone.
“Lariette would be so pleased, wouldn’t she? A man who can’t even act like a father lecturing about motherhood.”
Lariette.
Whenever his wife’s name was spoken by another, his face lost all expression.
Just like now.
Even as the oppressive atmosphere grew heavy, she refused to back down.
“If she knew how cruelly you were disciplining your only son, how heartbroken do you think she would be?”
“Discipline? This is training.”
“Yes. Training disguised as violence.”
The tension between them stretched taut, and Ashdel anxiously tugged at Milena’s dress.
She cast a glance downward, checking on him.
His teeth were clenched, and though there were no visible bruises or bleeding, his sweat-soaked hair and tattered clothes spoke for themselves.
Her green eyes flickered with fury as she glared at Calion.
The man standing before her was the Duke of Luxen, never once a father to Ashdel.
He had only ever treated the boy as an heir.
A cruel life for a seven-year-old.
An upbringing devoid of love.
Perhaps she saw a shadow of her younger self in him.
She felt pity.
And more than that—she was furious at a man who wouldn’t even act like a parent.
“The duel with Your Grace is still too much for the young lord. Training seems to be over, so…”
She trailed off, silently asking permission to leave.
Calion finally lowered his wooden sword and tilted his gaze toward her.
‘He’s going to dismiss me now.’
He always looked down at people from above, never an exception.
Or so she thought.
“Milena Lastia.”
He stepped forward, his previous cold demeanor replaced by an unsettling softness.
“You shouldn’t get hurt.”
His fingers brushed against the blood trickling down her cheek.
“You’re too valuable for that.”
His thumb gently caressed the wound.
A shiver ran down her spine.
The touch that was meant to be tender only filled her with dread.
“You’ll be fine.”
Fine? What was he talking about?
Before she could process it, his next words left her breathless.
“The young lord wants someone to replace him. I’ll need to produce a second heir.”
With you.
It was a raw, undisguised declaration.
The underlying heat in his voice made her feel as though all the blood in her body was being drained through his touch.
Her face, once so easily flushed at his presence, was now ghostly pale.
No trace of the woman who had once desperately clung to him remained.
Only fear.
Calion’s gaze darkened dangerously as he watched her reaction.
“Why make that face? I thought you’d be pleased.”
His voice slithered around her, making her body stiffen.
For a moment, he stared at the blood on his fingers.
A faint crimson light flickered in his silver-gray eyes, but it disappeared so quickly that no one noticed.
After a moment of silent observation, he finally let her go.
“You may leave. I’ll overlook today’s insolence.”
She exhaled shakily, realizing she had been holding her breath, and hurriedly turned to leave with Ashdel.
She needed to get out of here.
“Oh, and… how is the wedding preparation going?”
Her steps halted.
That was laughable.
She was rarely allowed into his office, and the steward handled everything.
Did he really need to ask?
She had no desire to decipher his intent.
She just needed to escape.
Taking a deep breath, she glanced back briefly.
“What is there to prepare? Everything is being recycled, after all.”
Just like her. His wife’s sister, recycled into the role of the duchess.
