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Sniff sniff.
Holding the brave child who had fallen asleep before he knew it, Diegon entered the mansion.
The people who had run out in worry clamped their mouths shut.
From Diegon’s expression, they thought something had happened to Shupetty.
“She’s asleep, so keep it down. Carmen, follow me immediately.”
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
Taking only his subordinate, Carmen, he headed to the bedroom and laid the child down very carefully on the bed.
Fortunately, since the child was a sound sleeper once asleep, Shupetty only let out a small murmur, “Mmm…”, and continued to sleep peacefully.
During this time, Diegon relayed to Carmen what Shupetty had said.
“Oh my, could it be that the ‘Lacifer’ the young miss mentioned is that ‘Lacifer’…?”
“It must be that mischievous little brat from back then.”
“Yes, I think so. After all, who else would use such a name?”
In the Baratheum Empire, there existed the imperial family and four ducal houses.
At the center was the resurrection house of Baratheum.
To the northwest was the house of Velarion of the Eclipse.
To the southwest was the house of Pashayen of the Horizon.
To the east was the house of Raximon of the Dawn.
Located to the southeast, at the central line of the continent, was the house of Ishel of the Afterglow.
Among them, the only ones daring to use the arrogant name ‘Lacifer’ were those of the house of Raximon of the Dawn.
“Lacifer…”
The meaning of the name was grandiose.
It meant ‘the one who devoured the sun god,’ said to have existed in ancient times.
The sheer audacity of the meaning, hinting at surpassing even the sun god, was enough to leave one speechless.
Yet, Lacifer himself was no pushover.
‘We crossed paths once before.’
He was a boy with a beautiful face but a viper for a tongue.
He was so prickly, difficult, and sensitive that no matter how hard one tried to see him in a positive light, it was almost impossible.
“That ill-mannered brat wouldn’t dare to have impure intentions toward my daughter, would he?”
“Could it… be?”
“Are you saying my daughter isn’t good enough to make someone fall for her at first sight?”
“W-Why are you twisting it like that?!”
Carmen jumped in shock.
Diegon knew he was being unreasonable, but he couldn’t help feeling irritated.
Of course, his daughter was a star brighter than any man in this world could ever reach. She was like the North Star itself.
But why on earth was that guy with Shupetty?
Lacifer Raximon was not someone who would be overpowered by a common thug like that sack-carrying old man.
There was definitely something fishy going on.
“Ahem, anyway, Your Excellency, I’m concerned about the half-elves. They don’t seem to have anywhere to return to.”
“My daughter referred to them as her friends.”
“Ah, I see. If they have nowhere to go, then I’ll make arrangements for them to stay at the naval quarters.”
Half-elves were outcasts in both elven and human societies.
With their white hair, pointed ears, and cat-like pupils, it was impossible for them to hide their half-elf identity.
Their numbers were small, and as a result, they were constantly shunned and driven out, always caught between two worlds.
Most half-elves originated from the eastern part of the continent. Since Pashayen was far removed from the east, neither of them had ever seen one in person until now.
“We’ll figure out the best course of action after reporting it to my father. Most likely, my mother will step in.”
“That seems likely. For now, I’ll station a scouting unit at the quarters. As I was passing by earlier, I got a glimpse of them, and I think I saw a little girl.”
“Did they specifically target young girls for kidnapping?”
Diegon’s face twisted with a ferocious scowl.
Carmen was about to mention, ‘Lacifer Raximon is a man…,’ but he stopped short, suddenly recalling how rather pretty that guy’s face was.
“Hmm, that could be true.”
“Unforgivable.”
Crunch.
Diegon’s crimson eyes burned like flames as he gritted his teeth.
“As you know, Your Excellency, we can’t make an official complaint. There’s no evidence.”
“Then we’ll have to ‘unofficially’ settle this.”
“An excellent decision, Your Excellency.”
If anyone dared to lay a hand on his daughter, even by accident, they would soon learn the consequences.
Diegon, after carefully reflecting, gave a command.
“Dry up the upper stream of the Alexandrite River. That seems the most appropriate course of action.”
The Alexandrite River was a massive river that stretched from the Eclipse of Velarion to the Horizon of Pashayen.
More than just being important, it was a water source directly tied to survival. Losing it would deal a massive blow.
However, since they weren’t going to ‘go directly to the upper stream controlled by Velarion,’ but instead ‘draw the water from the downstream area owned by Pashayen and send it out to sea,’ it would be ambiguous to regard it as the starting point of a territorial war.
Of course, if Velarion offered an appropriate apology and took corrective action, the freshwater could be replenished.
“Execute it immediately. Take action first, report later.”
“Understood.”
As Carmen left the room, Diegon sat in silence, deep in thought.
He wondered—what would Aurora have done?
It was something he would never know.
***
“GRAAAAARGH!”
Far from the Pashayen mansion, in a lavish estate, chaos erupted.
A large-bodied boy grabbed his own hair, writhing on the carpet.
He panted heavily, gagged, and a few times even buried his face in his own vomit.
But the pain did not subside.
“HOW DARE YOU… HOW DAAARE YOUUUGH!!”
Goliath Velarion was a collector.
He had a hobby of preserving beautiful things, gathering them as specimens in the basement of his personal estate.
His unusual ability, known as ‘Grandpa Sackman’, perfectly matched his peculiar hobby.
During territorial wars, he would use his ability to kidnap the families of key figures from the opposing faction.
He couldn’t directly target the awakened individuals themselves, but if he snatched their children, his side would inevitably win the territorial war.
Because of this ability, Velarion valued Goliath and allowed him many privileges.
As long as it didn’t go too far, even if Goliath preserved people like trophies, Velarion turned a blind eye.
“My future brides! My brides!”
A boy, covered in filth, yelled and threw his fists into the air.
Then, he pounded the ground furiously, unable to suppress his anger.
Inside the bag were half-elves, whom he intended to keep imprisoned until they became submissive.
However, for some reason, ‘Grandpa Sackman’ had disappeared, and all the half-elves had escaped.
“How hard I worked to collect them!”
“I won’t forgive them. I will never forgive them!”
Crunch. Crack. Crunch.
Goliath gnawed at his own nails.
Losing an ability that had its own consciousness brought him tremendous emotional pain.
It would eventually regenerate, but since it was his first time experiencing such a thing, he had no idea how long it would take.
“Damn it. Damn it all! Who the hell were those two girls?”
One had platinum blonde hair and violet eyes, while the other had pink hair.
He had taken a liking to both of them and was even preparing a human-sized cage to lock them up as soon as ‘Grandpa Sackman’ returned.
“Next time I catch them, I will preserve them as trophies. Immediately. No exceptions.”
Goliath’s eyes burned red with rage as he heaved in anger.
At that moment—
Step. Step.
The sound of footsteps echoed in the empty hallway.
Still fuming and clutching his chest in frustration, Goliath sharply glared at the two feet that appeared before him.
“You look awful.”
“You!”
Goliath burst out in anger at the seemingly mocking tone.
But that was all he could do. He could do nothing more.
The homunculus before him was a direct subordinate of Velarion’s head.
In Velarion, the head of the household was the law itself.
If anyone dared to lay a hand on what belonged to the head, even if it was his own child, that hand could be severed without hesitation.
“I’m here to deliver a message. Something you would be curious to know.”
“What is it?”
“The one who tore apart and destroyed your ability was Diegon Pashayen, a father whose daughter you kidnapped.”
The man’s tone was flat, devoid of emotion. His expression remained unchanged.
The man, with eyes half-closed like slits, was Bernstein Crighton.
He was none other than the husband of Cecilia Pashayen.
“Do you desire revenge?”
“Ha, of course I do! What kind of stupid question is that?”
“Then, when the right time comes, I will let you know. Prepare yourself in advance.”
