Chapter 18 |
Not adoption, but meeting with the Cheonrye Clan?
Molrin’s expression was something to behold, a feeling somewhere between bewilderment and absurdity. He kept stroking his beard, opening and closing his mouth. He was trying to figure out what Ian’s intentions were.
Meeting the Cheonrye Clan meant crossing the border. From Ian’s point of view, it was a suicidal path.
In response to his hesitation, Mack and D’gor also peered at the parchment. Their expressions, too, morphed into something intriguing.
“Do you not understand what it means to meet the Cheonrye Clan?”
“I do understand. However, when the investigation is conducted from the imperial palace, my father will surely suspect me. In the Bratz territory, the only person from the Central are Sir Official Molrin and the others, while I am the one who spent a lot of time in the mansion. Even if there are planted eyes and ears, it is a given fact that I will be the first to be suspected.”
That was a logical sequence.
If the palace had sent an investigator all this way for almost a fortnight, it means there’s some degree of solid evidence, and if there’s solid evidence, it means it must have come from the Bratz mansion.
“They won’t leave me alone. The moment the investigator arrives, anything could happen. Given my father’s temperament, he’d probably interrogate me with a sword. Therefore, I will cross the border.”
In fact, they didn’t care what happened to the boy. Whether he was killed by his father, became a slave, or crossed the border. What they wanted was the fall of the Bratz family and the value of the territory they could seize as a result.
-“You may not be able to return.”
Ian knew this.
Even under the ongoing patronage, safety could not be guaranteed, let alone once the (Bratz) family was gone. How would he manage to return from there? It might be better to hide somewhere instead.
“Then.” Ian pierced through their thoughts and continued his writing. “Would you hide me and my mother?”
Molrin kept his gaze steady on the parchment with a nonchalant expression, but it was clear that Mack and D’gor were perplexed.
It was the task of bringing down the Bratz family that had been passed down for generations. It was a pressing and dangerous situation, and it was a burden to protect the son and the mother too. Above all, they were outsiders.
“The Bratz territory is in my father’s grasp. I fully understand it’s a lot to ask. So, I’ll cross the border as my father wishes. That’s enough.”
As long as Dergha was in good health, Ian’s bones could only be buried beyond the border. Even if he ran away, there was nowhere for him to go.
But what if the Bratz family were to be exterminated? No. Even if only the family head Dergha were to be gone?
Ian could return.
And he could live as before.
‘It’s dangerous, but it might not be a bad choice.’
Mack stroked his eyebrows, pondering. If here, he’d either be killed by his father or become a slave, but if he left…
‘Hope arises. When time passes, and everyone’s memory fades. He might be able to live among the townsfolk.’
He silently applauded Ian. His penmanship, as he wrote at the corner of the parchment, was almost slanted.
“It’s indeed a pioneering choice! Sir. I believe it’s enough to consider. Isn’t it a priority to secure the evidence right away with Ian’s help? That Dergha guy, is extraordinary. We don’t have time to delay.”
Molrin nodded his head in agreement.
“And above all, when the alliance is established…”
As Mack tried to follow up, D’gor stopped his pen. A stern look, reprimanding him for his careless words.
Realizing his mistake, Mack looked back at Ian. His look of checking Ian’s complexion was a bit awkward. Instead of replying, Ian finished the sentence, “When the alliance is established, it’ll benefit us in many ways.”
With the Central Investigation Team and Derga’s discord, the territory would be in turmoil. But if the Cheonrye Clan were to rise amidst this, it would be a problem. Wouldn’t it be safer to proceed with the promised alliance first? Even if the family head changes later, they could be in a better position in negotiations.
“Master Ian. Let’s go out often. You’re leaving when the flowers are in full bloom, so you should imprint the beautiful Bratz territory in your eyes before that.”
He was saying that he would carry out everything as planned, without any hitch, on the scheduled spring day.
Molrin drew his family’s seal at the corner of the paper with his fingertip. It was an act performed when men of honor made a vow. With the name of the family at stake, it was an absolute promise. He seemed grateful for Ian’s sacrifice which was not really a sacrifice.
‘His seal is unusual.’
It was then when Ian was dispassionately observing his hand movement.
Knock, knock.
There was a knock from outside.
“I will bring in the dessert.”
“Let them in.”
Thankfully, it was not Lady Mary, the countess. It was the servants moving tea cups and a teapot on a full tray. As they busily entered the room, Mack stuffed the parchment into his pocket and asked, “I’d like to light a cigarette, Master Ian.”
“You may. Just open the window, please.”
“Thank you. Hey, bring me an ashtray with a lid.”
“Yes. I’ll bring it right away.”
“But the madam is late, isn’t she?”
If Countess. Mary is late, Mack was planning to burn the paper with the tobacco leaves. Click, click. He flicked his lighter as if by habit, prompting an awkward smile from the servant.
“Madam Merellof sent quite a few things,” said the servant.
“Do they interact often?”
“Hmm? Yeah, their servants come about twice a week.”
The servant respectfully offered the golden ashtray. As Mack was opening the window, he suddenly noticed a familiar flowerpot.
“That’s the flowerpot you bought at the park.”
“It’s a strange flower. It seems to last a long time in full bloom.”
“Do the people in the mansion not know what it is?”
“Yes, they all say it’s the first time they’ve seen such a plant. We were worried it might be hazardous, but luckily, it seems that it’s not.”
Hmmm. Mack shifted his gaze as he blew out a puff of smoke. As the servants all left, he crumpled a neatly folded parchment into the ashtray and slowly set fire to it, watching as the tip burned. The faint smoke twirled and disappeared out of the window.
Knock, knock.
This time, the door opened without waiting for a response. It was Countess Mary. She covered her mouth and smiled, as if embarrassed.
“Sorry for being late. It wasn’t polite to leave our guests waiting.”
“No problem, Madam. It seems that Countess Merellof has sent you some precious gifts.”
“Being close to the Kingdom of Hawan brings a lot of curious things our way.”
“Is that so? There must be many things that are hard to see even in the central region.”
Mack asked, implying that he wanted to see these things, but Countess Mary awkwardly changed the topic.
“You might not be interested since they are women’s items. However…,” she paused to take a deep breath to enjoy the tea aroma but stopped abruptly. “What is this smell?”
“I apologize, Madam. I was smoking a cigar.”
“Oh, I see.”
Her initially stern look softened, thinking for a moment that the room wasn’t well managed. Mary, with a bright smile, brought up a new topic of gossip.
One hour.
That’s how long it took for the guests to leave after finishing lunch. Except for the beginning, most of the time was spent with Countess Mary, which significantly reduced the time Mack had to check the brooch.
Dergha, taking a jewel out of his magic pouch, asked, “There was a bit of a gap. Explain.”
Especially before his wife came in.
Dergha scanned Ian, who was standing in a formal posture. He seemed neither tense nor flustered.
“I was just listening to Mack and Sir D’gor’s conversation. The weather was so nice, I was looking outside. Overall, it was a peaceful and quiet atmosphere.”
The sound of Dergha rolling the brooch was the only noise. His expression was full of suspicion, but Ian knew. It was an intimidation to put pressure on him.
“May I go down now? My tutor is waiting.”
“You said you would write a personal letter today, right?”
“Yes. I will try my best, although I am not very good at it.”
He already knew what to write about. It would be filled with meaningless contents, proposing the cooperation between the Bratz family and the Cheonrye tribe, except for handwriting identification.
“You may go.”
“Father.”
Despite Ian’s call, Dergha didn’t raise his head. He just twitched his eyebrows, allowing him to speak.
“Did you receive a letter from my mother?”
“…You’re asking irrelevant things.”
It’s not irrelevant. Ian is reminding Dergha consciously that his chain is his mother. He’s making him complacent, having a leash tightly gripped in his hand. But in the end, there will be nothing.
“I apologize. I’ll leave now,” Ian bowed his head slightly and left the office.
What Official Molrin needs is a clue for embezzlement. The details will be revealed by the palace investigator. As long as he found even a trivial thing, there would be no problem.
‘The brooch isin the middle drawer of the desk. There’s no separate lock. Not that there should have been.’
From his position, Ian couldn’t look into Dergha’s desk drawer since it was facing him. Yet, it was the place where the precious magic stones were stored, and there didn’t seem to be anything like a safe in Dergha’s study. Even if there was a safe, there was a high likelihood it would be connected to the desk.
As he was pondering how to rummage through the desk,
“Master Ian.”
“Hannah?”
As he descended the stairs, Hannah peeked her head out. Her cautious voice and scanning gaze were unusual—it was a posture checking to see if anyone was watching.
“What’s the matter?”
“Do you happen to know someone named Beric?”
“Beric?”
He knew him, of course. When Ian nodded, Hannah whispered as if she had expected it. “Beric is causing a scene at the front gate, demanding to meet you, Master Ian.”
He could imagine the scene and it brought a small chuckle. Would he, whose time was so precious even his mother couldn’t see him, entertain a rogue who had been expelled from the army?
“I’ll go see him briefly. Please pass a message to the teacher for me.”
“Yes, Master Ian.”
Hannah quickly scampered off towards the annex, and Ian headed for the front gate. The gardeners and gatekeepers’ atmosphere was clearly flustered. As Ian approached with quick strides, the guard bowed awkwardly.
“What’s the matter?”
“I heard a guest came looking for me.”
“Well…”
The gatekeeper explained while scratching his nose. “He’s an ex-trainee, and he seems to hold a grudge against the house, so we questioned him.”
So they misjudged that Beric’s reason coming to see Ian as an excuse for entering the mansion. That must have been why the report ended at the level of a mid-tier manager.
“How audacious.”
“Pardon?”
Ian scowled. At the sudden scolding, the gatekeeper blinked in surprise.
“How dare the lower ranks decide arbitrarily about the guest of the master? If he says he’s here to see me, you should naturally inquire from the top and proceed with the situation. Who are you to decide?”
‘Up’ meant Dergha, but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t a matter to hide, nor could it be hidden. Taking Beric as his aide would mean taking him under his wing.
“…I-I apologize.”
Ian waved a hand dismissively. “Open the gate.”
“But…”
“I won’t go out.”
At Ian’s firm words, the gatekeeper opened the front gate.
Creak.
Beric was half lying down a little distance away. He seemed to have planned to eat and sleep here until he could meet Ian.
“Hey!”
As soon as Beric spotted Ian’s golden hair, he jumped reflexively. The spear of the gatekeeper blocked his path, but Beric, treating them as if they were invisible, yelled out loud.
“You! What’s your deal!”
He was probably talking about Ian’s golden eyes and the mysterious power from that day.
Ian smiled and stood in front of the gate. Technically, he had not left the mansion as he told the gatekeepers.
“You look quite robust.”
Whip marks crisscrossed on Beric were vivid. Ian beckoned him closer, and they met face-to-face at the boundary between the mansion and the outside.
“Everyone, step back for a moment.”
“But—”
“Shall I call the butler?”
The people managing the gatekeepers were not Dergha but the butler. If it became known that the report was cut off midway, they would undoubtedly be severely reprimanded.
And the visitor was no other than the one who sought Ian. There was an order to manage even the smallest things regarding the young master, regardless of other matters.
“Just for a moment.”
The gatekeepers retreated a bit. They were far enough to not hear a soft conversation but close enough to respond quickly if anything happened. Ian tugged Beric’s ear closer.
“You. You seem to need my help.”
“Skip the chit-chat and tell me what that was all—”
“I need you too.” Ian cut off Beric’s words and whispered, “So follow me from now on.”