Adoption will not proceed, but he will meet the Cheonrye tribe?

Mollin’s expression was a sight to behold. An emotion between surprise and absurdity. He stroked his chin repeatedly, opening and closing his mouth. He was trying to grasp Ian’s intention.

Meeting the Cheonrye tribe meant crossing the border. From Ian’s perspective, wasn’t it a path to death?

At his hesitation, Mac and D’gor also peered over and looked at the parchment. Their expressions also changed amusingly.

-Do you not understand what it means to meet the Cheonrye tribe?

-I’m well aware. But if the palace comes to investigate, Father will surely suspect me. In the Bratz territory, the only people from the central government are Sir Mollin’s party, and I’m the one who closely interacted with them at the mansion. Even if there are eyes and ears planted, it’s evident that I will be the first one suspected.

It was the natural course of events.

If the palace personally sent investigators, riding for nearly a fortnight, it meant they had some definitive evidence, and definitive evidence implied that it had leaked from the Bratz estate.

-He won’t leave me be. I don’t know what will happen the moment the investigators barge in. Given Father’s personality, he will interrogate me with a blade. So I will cross the border.

The three men exchanged glances.

In fact, it didn’t matter what happened to the child. Whether he died by his father’s hand, became a slave, or crossed the border. What they wanted was the downfall of House Bratz and the value of the territory they would gain as a result.

-You may not be able to return.

Ian couldn’t be unaware of this.

Even in a situation where the truce was maintained, his safety couldn’t be guaranteed, so how would they respond if the family disappeared? It might be better to hide somewhere.

-Then.

Ian, seeing through their thoughts, continued writing.

-Will you hide me and my mother?

Mollin kept his gaze on the parchment indifferently, but it was evident that Mac and D’gor were in a difficult position.

It was a matter of overthrowing House Bratz, which had lasted for generations. Time would be of the essence, and it would be dangerous, so it was burdensome to protect the illegitimate child and his mother. Above all, they were outsiders.

-The Bratz territory is in Father’s grasp. I’m well aware it’s unreasonable. So, for now, I will cross the border as Father wishes. That alone is enough.

As long as Derga was alive, Ian’s bones were destined to be buried beyond the border. Because there was nowhere to run even if he tried to escape.

But what if House Bratz was annihilated? No. Even if at least the head of the family, Derga, disappeared?

Ian could return.

And he could live as before.

‘It may be dangerous, but it might not be a bad choice.’

Mac thought, stroking his eyebrows.

If he stayed here, he would either die by his father’s hand or become a slave, but if he left…

‘Hope arises. Later, when time passes and everyone’s memories fade. He may be able to blend in and live among the villagers.’

He silently applauded Ian. The handwriting at the end, where he brought the pen to write, was half-lying.

-It’s a choice that truly paves one’s destiny! Teacher, I think this is reasonable enough to accept. Isn’t securing evidence with Ian’s help the top priority for now? That fellow Derga, his instincts are no joke. There’s no time to delay.

Mollin nodded in agreement.

-And above all, if the truce proceeds…

As Mac was about to write further, D’gor stopped the pen. He shook his head lightly, his gaze reproachful.

Realizing his mistake, Mac glanced at Ian. His gaze, examining Ian’s complexion, looked quite awkward. Instead of responding, Ian completed the sentence.

-If the truce proceeds, it will be advantageous in many ways.

The territory would be in disarray due to the clash between the central investigation team and Derga. But it would be troublesome if the Cheonrye tribe also took advantage of that gap. Wouldn’t it be safer to proceed with the promised truce for now? Even if the head of the family changed later, they could gain an advantageous position in negotiations.

“Sir Ian, let’s go out often. You’ll be leaving when the flowers are in full bloom, so you should take in the beautiful sights of the Bratz territory beforehand.”

It meant that everything would proceed as originally scheduled on a spring day without any setbacks.

Mollin drew his family seal with his fingertip on the paper. It was an action taken by those who valued honor when making a vow. An absolute promise, putting the family name on the line. He seemed grateful for Ian’s sacrifice that wasn’t even a sacrifice.

‘The seal is unique.’

It was when Ian was observing his gesture without much emotion.

Knock, knock.

A knocking sound came from outside.

“I’ll bring in the dessert.”

“Come in.”

Fortunately, it wasn’t Marchioness Mary. It was the servants carrying trays full of teacups and pots. As they busily entered the room, Mac stuffed the parchment into his pocket and asked.

“I’d like to smoke a cigarette. Sir Ian.”

“You may smoke. Just open the window.”

“Thank you. Hey, bring an ashtray with a lid.”

“Yes, I’ll bring it right away.”

“But the marchioness is a bit late?”

If Marchioness Mary was late, he planned to burn the paper along with the tobacco leaves. Click, click. As Mac flicked his lighter out of habit and asked, the servant smiled awkwardly.

“It seems Marchioness Merellof sent a lot of things.”

“Do they exchange often like that?”

“Pardon? Hmm, the servants go back and forth a couple of times a week.”

The servant politely brought a golden ashtray. Mac, who was opening the window, suddenly noticed a familiar flower pot.

“That’s the flower pot you bought at the park that day.”

“It’s a strange flower. It stays in full bloom for a long time.”

“Even the people in the mansion don’t know what it is?”

“Yes. Everyone says it’s a plant they’ve never seen before. We were worried it might be poisonous, but fortunately, that doesn’t seem to be the case.”

Hmm. Mac exhaled the cigarette smoke and shifted his gaze. After all the servants left, he crumpled the neatly folded parchment and put it in the ashtray. Then he persistently pressed the fire, burning the edge. The faint smoke drifted out the window and disappeared.

Knock, knock.

This time, the door opened without waiting for an answer. It was Marchioness Mary. She smiled, covering her mouth as if embarrassed.

“I apologize for being late. It’s not polite to leave the guests waiting.”

“Not at all, Marchioness. It seems Marchioness Merellof sent a precious gift.”

“Since they are close to the Kingdom of Hawan, there are many interesting things coming in.”

“Is that so? There must be many items that are hard to come by even in the central region.”

Mac asked in a tone implying he wanted to take a look, but Marchioness Mary smiled awkwardly and changed the subject.

“They are things used by women, so you probably won’t find them interesting. By the way…”

She inhaled deeply to savor the aroma of the tea and paused.

“What is this smell?”

“I apologize, Marchioness. I smoked a cigarette.”

“Oh my. I see.”

The glare she was about to give Ian softened. She momentarily thought the room hadn’t been properly managed. Mary smiled brightly and brought up the gossip again.

***

One hour.

That was the time it took for Mollin’s party to finish the luncheon and leave. Moreover, except for the beginning, most of the time was spent with Marchioness Mary. Thanks to that, the time to check the brooch was much shorter.

Derga took the jewel out of the mana container and asked.

“There are some gaps. Explain.”

Especially before the marchioness entered.

Derga sharply scrutinized Ian, who was standing at attention. He didn’t seem to show any signs of nervousness or fluster.

“I was just listening to Sir Mac and Sir D’gor’s conversation. The weather was so nice that I was looking outside. Overall, it was a peaceful and quiet atmosphere.”

Rattle, rattle.

Only the sound of Derga rolling the brooch echoed quietly. His expression was full of suspicion, but Ian knew. He knew it was a threat to intimidate and suppress him.

“If you’re done checking, may I go down? The tutor is waiting.”

“You said you’d write a handwritten letter today?”

“Yes. I’ll try my best, even if it’s lacking.”

He had already prepared what to write. It would be full of meaningless content, aside from handwriting identification, about jointly promoting harmony between House Bratz and the Cheonrye tribe.

“You may go.”

“Father.”

Even at Ian’s call, Derga didn’t raise his head. He merely twitched his eyebrows, giving permission to speak.

“Do you think Mother received the letter?”

“…You’re asking useless things.”

It wasn’t useless. Because he was consciously reminding Derga that Ian’s shackle was his mother. Making him become complacent, thinking he had a tight leash on him. But there would be nothing at the end of it.

“I apologize. Then.”

Ian bowed his head and left the office.

What Mollin needed was a clue to the embezzlement. The details would be uncovered by the palace investigators, so even the slightest thing would be fine as long as it had a seal.

‘The brooch is in the middle drawer of the desk. There was no separate lock. That can’t be.’

From the angle, Ian couldn’t see inside the drawer as he was directly in front of Derga. But it was the place where the precious mana stone was stored, and above all, there was no visible safe in Derga’s study. Even if there was a safe, it was likely connected to the desk.

As he was pondering how to search the desk.

“Sir Ian.”

“Hannah?”

When he came down the stairs, Hannah peeked out her head. Her cautious voice and the way she looked around were unusual. It was a posture of checking if anyone was watching.

“What’s the matter?”

“Do you know someone named Beric?”

“Beric?”

Of course he knew. When Ian nodded, Hannah whispered as if she had expected it.

“Someone named Beric is protesting at the main gate, asking to meet you.”

The image made him chuckle. He was a precious person who couldn’t even meet his mother, so would they let him meet a ruffian expelled from the private army?

“I’ll go see him for a moment, so please inform the tutor.”

“Yes, Sir Ian.”

Hannah ran to the annex, and Ian headed to the main gate. Indeed, the atmosphere among the gardeners and gatekeepers was chaotic. As Ian approached with quick steps, the guard bowed his head awkwardly.

“What’s the matter?”

“I heard my guest has come to see me.”

“Well, that’s-“

The gatekeeper explained, scratching his nose.

“He’s a former trainee, and it seems he holds a grudge against the mansion, so we turned him away.”

They misjudged that he hadn’t come to see Ian but was just using it as an excuse to enter the mansion. That’s why the report ended at the mid-level manager.

“How insolent.”

“Pardon?”

Ian frowned. The guard blinked at the sudden rebuke.

“How dare lowly servants arbitrarily filter the master’s guest? If he said he came to see me, you should naturally ask above and proceed with the situation. Who are you to do this?”

‘Above’ meant Derga, but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t something to hide, and it couldn’t be hidden. Because taking Beric as his subordinate meant he would take him in.

“…I, I apologize.”

Ian glared and nodded.

“Open the gate.”

“But…”

“I won’t go out.”

At Ian’s resolute words, the gatekeeper opened the main gate.

Creak.

Beric was lying half-sprawled some distance away. It seemed he intended to eat and sleep here until he met Ian.

“Hey!”

As soon as Beric spotted the golden hair, he reflexively rushed over. The gatekeeper’s spear blocked his way. But Beric treated them like they were invisible and shouted at the top of his lungs.

“You! What was that?!”

He must be referring to the golden eyes and the mysterious power from that day.

Ian smiled brightly and stood in front of the gate. As he had told the gatekeepers, he didn’t step outside the mansion.

“Your body has become quite impressive.”

The whip marks lined up in a row were vivid. Ian gestured for him to come closer, and they were able to face each other at the boundary between the mansion and the outside.

“Everyone, step back for a moment.”

“But-“

“Should I call the steward?”

It was the steward, not Derga, who directly managed them. If it became known that the report was interrupted midway, they would surely be severely scolded.

Moreover, it was someone who had come to see Ian of all people. Even if they didn’t know anything else, there was an order to manage even the trivial matters regarding the illegitimate child.

“Just for a short while.”

The gatekeepers stepped back a little. A distance where they couldn’t hear if spoken softly, but close enough to respond quickly if a problem arose. Ian pulled Beric’s ear.

“You. You seem to need my help.”

“Cut the crap and first tell me what that was-“

“I need you too.”

Ian interrupted Beric’s words and whispered.

“So from now on, follow me.”