Chapter 34
“Isn’t family something you’re meant to prove yourself to, not lean on?”
To show how capable you are, how brightly you can make the family name shine.
To prove that the love they gave you wasn’t wasted — that you’ve achieved something worth their pride.
And in return, instead of jealousy, they look at you with genuine admiration.
That, Dylan thought, was what family affection really meant.
He still remembered clearly the day he volunteered to go to war — and the day he returned victorious.
The way the late emperor and empress’s faces had glowed with pride was unforgettable.
“If you win this war,” the late emperor had told him, “you will become the new sun of the Empire.”
Dylan remembered that moment vividly — how those same blue eyes, so much like his own, had shone with expectation and love.
But in that final battle, Dylan had failed to prove his worth.
He had returned not as a hero, but as a man cursed — doomed to crave blood for the rest of his life.
Because of that, he hadn’t become the Empire’s new sun.
He had become its shadow — the royal brother who disappeared from public view.
Now, Dylan looked quietly at Agnès, who sat across from him, lost in thought.
Even now — when her son was unable to speak and his future uncertain — she still stood before the priest, lying for the boy’s sake, trembling at the thought of how much pain he might feel.
He found himself wondering how this woman’s love would end.
Not because he wanted a particular ending — but because her love was something so foreign to him that he couldn’t imagine where it would lead.
Before long, Agnès seemed to regain control of herself. Lifting her head, she spoke calmly again, her face composed as always.
“But there’s another possible lead,” she said. “I think there’s a hidden passage in Rickman’s office. It might be connected to how he built up his illegal fortune.”
Originally, she had thought the passage might have something to do with Noah’s birth mother, but after hearing Dylan’s reasoning, her mind had changed.
Now it seemed more likely that the passage was tied to his secret crimes.
“You may be right,” Dylan said. “We’ve been collecting small clues, but nothing decisive yet. If we can find something stronger — something shocking — it will make our case far more solid.”
“Could the person you planted inside Rickman’s household find out about that passage?”
“That’s one option,” Dylan said thoughtfully. “But you also know the layout of that house very well, do you not?”
Agnès nodded, though she looked uncertain.
“There are a few hidden rooms I used to manage, but I don’t know which of them connect to the secret passage. I only know that one of them links to his office.”
“Do you remember which direction?”
“Of course.”
Even as she answered, she looked puzzled. Dylan, however, smiled — a rare, warm smile — and gently patted her shoulder before letting go.
“That’s good enough. Once we return to the estate, I’ll introduce you to an expert in such matters.”
“An expert?”
“Yes. Someone who knows everything there is to know about secret passages. You’ve met him before.”
Agnès was about to ask who it was, but Dylan’s amused expression stopped her.
It was rare to see him look entertained, and she couldn’t help but grow curious.
Who could possibly make the stoic Duke of Basteron smile like that — and what sort of “expert” was he referring to?
* * *
Meanwhile, at the Everchen townhouse, a fierce argument was shaking the entire building.
The Lady of Everchen, the Baron’s second wife, was shouting so loudly that it sounded like she might shatter every window in the study.
“If we do this, we can get the dowry money! Stop being so stubborn already!”
Normally, Baron Everchen would’ve covered his ears and ignored her. But this time, he shouted back just as loudly.
“Stop spouting nonsense! You call this a plan? Using our estate as collateral?!”
“What’s so bad about that? It’s not like the Everchen lands make that much profit! Whatever little we earn, we waste it fixing roads and expanding fields anyway!”
“That’s exactly why it’s nonsense! The estate isn’t just about profit — it’s proof of our family’s honor, recognized by the Imperial Palace itself!”
“Oh please! What ‘honor’ and ‘history’ does the Everchen family even have? Go on, tell me!”
“So that’s what you think of me now? Am I a joke to you?!”
Enraged, Baron Everchen lifted his teacup as if to throw it — but the word dowry flashing through his mind stopped him.
They didn’t have enough money. Not even close.
Yes, the Duke of Basteron was rumored to be a “monster,” a recluse who only left his estate once or twice a year.
But he was still royalty — a duke.
If the Everchen family sent their daughter to marry such a man without a dowry, it would destroy their reputation.
Worse, the Duke was a first-time groom, while Agnès was remarrying — a fact society wouldn’t overlook.
He could already imagine the whispers:
“The Everchen family couldn’t even afford a proper dowry.”
“They must be utterly broke.”
And if anyone said that aloud, his face would burn red with shame.
Being mocked for having no money was bad enough — but offending the royal family by appearing stingy could be fatal.
The Duke of Basteron was the emperor’s own brother. If the Everchen family was seen as disrespectful to the crown by being cheap with their dowry, they might be banished from high society altogether.
The baron sighed heavily and put the teacup down.
Sensing that her husband’s resolve had weakened, the baron’s wife immediately changed tactics.
She walked over gracefully and looped her arm through his.
She had to secure that dowry — not just for Agnès’s marriage, but also for their son, Harber Everchen.
If Agnès’s wedding went well, it would reflect well on the family name — and that meant Harber would have better prospects when it came time for him to marry.
Smiling sweetly — a complete contrast to her earlier shrillness — the baroness spoke in a soft, coaxing tone.
“My dear, let’s just use the estate as collateral. We’re not selling it! Once we get the dowry ready, the Duke will surely respect us more. He’ll make sure our dignity is protected — for his own pride as well.”
Her argument, though selfish, sounded oddly reasonable.
“But that land was a gift from the royal family generations ago…” the baron murmured uncertainly.
“Oh, we’re not giving it away! Just temporarily transferring the management rights — it’s basically like hiring someone to run it for us. Do you really think His Majesty will care about such a small thing?”
“Would His Majesty really overlook such trickery?”
“Oh please, the emperor has better things to do than watch every little thing a minor baron’s family does!”
It was a ridiculous argument, but the baron seemed to accept it — too tired, or perhaps too desperate, to think clearly.
“Well… I suppose that’s true…” he mumbled weakly.
But before he could make a decision, the door burst open.
Their son Harber, who looked exactly like his father, strode into the room.
“Oh, Harber! My precious boy!” the baroness cried, rushing toward him.
But Harber wasn’t alone.
“Mother, Father,” he said formally. “I’ve brought a guest.”
From behind him stepped a man both of them knew all too well.
“It’s been a while, my lord, my lady,” the man said smoothly. “How have you been?”
The baron’s face froze. “You’re… Count Overhan.”
Standing before them was Rickman Overhan — his dull gold hair and blue eyes perfectly groomed, his posture elegant, his expression charming. He looked every bit the gentleman.
But after everything they had heard and seen, even his polished manners couldn’t hide the stench of arrogance.
The baron coughed awkwardly and turned halfway away.
“No, I suppose we should call you Count Overhan now,” he said stiffly. “We’re no longer family, after all.”
Rickman smiled faintly — that familiar, mocking curl of his lips.
The sight of the baron puffing himself up as the future father-in-law of a duke was almost amusing.
How pathetic, Rickman thought. He doesn’t even realize I know exactly how broke he is.
He was certain of it — he knew the Everchen family’s finances better than the baron himself did.
In Rickman’s eyes, the only reasonable people in that household had ever been Agnès and Harber.
So, of course, the family had decided to sell one to secure the other’s future.
