Chapter 57
“If possible, the eldest son would be preferable.”
That’s what Videllia had said.
Because of that single statement, the marriage candidate was switched to the elder brother.
There was no reason for Count Swanhild to object, and the Morigen family respected the opinions of those involved. Even if there were minor flaws, the eldest son had better prospects, provided he had no objections.
Once again, the older brother had thrown a tantrum, saying he couldn’t marry while still hung up on Ludia—but when he finally met Videllia in person, he calmed down to a shocking degree.
Eirik had no idea what sort of agreement had been reached between the two—no, the three, including Ludia—and he doubted he would have understood even if he’d known.
What part of common sense or emotional logic had to be broken for the three of them to coexist so peacefully?
In fact, Ludia and Videllia even seemed to enjoy each other’s company more when they were alone.
After this second heartbreak, Eirik resolved never to harbor romantic feelings for anyone again. He married his pairing partner, Claire, and for several years he completely avoided his family, all while wishing his damned brother would never find happiness.
But wishes rarely come true—and Eirik never imagined his brother would die in such a ridiculous way.
What kind of lunatic eats raw oysters and dies of food poisoning?
It’s not like it was an unheard-of cause of death, but it was pathetic to the point where Eirik couldn’t even curse.
To make matters worse, the man had somehow managed to leave behind daughters with both Ludia and Videllia.
Count Swanhild had wanted to kill his eldest son multiple times for this alone—and while Eirik had never liked his father, he found it genuinely unfortunate that a person couldn’t die twice.
If it had been possible, he’d have gladly loaded the rifle himself—and if the old man’s strength had failed, Eirik would’ve pulled the trigger for him.
Still, the sixteen years that followed were unexpectedly peaceful.
Sure, the children caused endless trouble, and his relationship with his father continued to deteriorate, but because of the recent incident, even those years began to seem like the good old days.
Had his father truly gone senile? The man had been scammed by a con artist, his niece had run away, and then there was a suspicious white-haired mage whose purpose was unknown but who definitely gave off shady vibes…
“This is no time to be distracted.”
While retracing the reasons for his carelessness and slipping into self-deprecation, Eirik recovered his anger.
His senses were finally returning, and he forced his eyes open. Frost clung to his eyelashes, making it more difficult than expected.
Everything around him was white. Not just snow—sharp shards of ice had swept through the area, leaving not a single intact tree.
Covered evenly in white frost, the scene almost looked peaceful at first glance.
But Eirik recognized the absurd magic that had torn through the forest.
The magical energy was still ferocious, the air cold and biting.
Trees had burst apart from the inside, frozen and shattered into pieces.
And the fact that he was still alive—this went beyond mere luck. His opponent had deliberately excluded humans from the spell’s target, even in an emergency.
Eirik pushed himself up with an elbow.
Just like before, the enemy was not far away.
Through the coarse snowfall, he spotted a person buried in the snow.
If not for the blood scattered nearby, it would have taken much longer to find her.
The mage, who lay completely still, began coughing violently just as he started to doubt she was alive. Then she spat out a mouthful of blood that had trickled down her throat.
Her bleary eyes slowly blinked and turned toward him.
“Are you… awake now?”
She asked the very question that should have been posed to her.
“…What?”
“Shouldn’t your head be cool by now? Let’s not fight anymore… let’s just talk…”
“I’m amazed you still have the energy to talk.”
The idea of identifying the core element of the spell and freezing it to neutralize it had been clever. By locking it down this way, he couldn’t use it the same way as before.
But pouring all of her magic into it made the tactic ultimately unwise.
An ordinary noble mage without proper combat training might panic when their spell is bound like this—but Eirik was different.
He had only learned these techniques after his brother’s death. And he still had plenty of other attack spells left.
“Your magic was impressive. It would’ve been wiser to prepare for this kind of situation instead of wasting it saving my life.”
Despite Eirik’s advice, she heaved a breath where she lay sprawled. He thought she was about to cough up more blood—but surprisingly, she laughed.
“Preparation… doesn’t have to be done by me alone, does it?”
It was a difficult statement to understand, but Eirik didn’t hesitate.
However, what he failed to notice this time was the attack from behind.
A magic bullet—identical to the one Ranze had fired just before fleeing into the forest—struck him.
Though his defense wasn’t too late, Eirik realized it might have been better to just take the hit and pass out. That might’ve delayed what came next.
The most familiar magical energy of all was now targeting him.
“…After all this chaos, did you really think you wouldn’t get caught?”
Ranze, still too weak to stand, lay on the ground and smirked.
Eirik, his face turning even paler than when caught in the freezing spell, heard footsteps approaching from behind.
One of them stepped forward. She hadn’t even taken the time to change shoes in her rush to get here—she was wearing soft indoor slippers for women.
Eirik gathered all the courage he had left and turned around.
“…Claire.”
His wife wore the same unreadable expression she always did.
Her lips were tight, but she didn’t appear angry.
She raised her hand as if performing an everyday task—and with a clean motion, she punched him.
When the blow to his jaw made Eirik stagger back and double over, Claire grabbed his collar.
“I figured you were up to something useless…”
Though she opened her hand this time, her next slap was just as powerful.
“When did ‘talking’ start meaning ‘fighting’? You’ve never been clever enough to rewrite the dictionary.”
Her calm voice didn’t match the violence at all—it made the atmosphere even more terrifying.
Erna, who had followed Claire and was ready to protest, couldn’t say a word. The others were just as stunned.
Ranze, who had hoped for this outcome, was so delighted by her aunt’s performance that she started hiccuping.
Eirik said nothing, since he had no excuse—and the mood only grew worse.
Ranze rolled her eyes.
The air in the villa was warm. They had no reason to conserve firewood, and the stove burned so hot it was almost uncomfortable.
She’d even been given the seat closest to the heat—she was practically being roasted.
Still, her hands and feet remained cold—and it wasn’t because of the magic’s aftereffects.
“Aunt Claire… does not look happy.”
It didn’t take effort to notice that. You’d have to be brain-dead not to realize it.
Eirik, who had taken a solid punch to one cheek, was sitting with an ice pack and his head down, while Claire stared at him.
Amazingly, she still seemed willing to listen to her husband’s explanation. Given her usual strictness with language, that meant she was open to hearing him, not necessarily accepting anything.
Their strange standoff was so bizarre that no one else could do anything but watch.
It was ridiculous enough that Eirik, no child himself, had picked a fight with his sixteen-year-old niece—and even more shocking that the normally composed Claire had hit him, while he meekly took the punishment in silence.
When the blood test confirmed that Ranze was biologically related to the Morigen family, Eirik had lifted his head briefly—only to sink into even deeper silence.
No matter how he tried to rationalize or escape it, he couldn’t deny the blood he’d seen or the results of the test his wife had ordered.
Meanwhile, Ranze’s irritation had faded, leaving only interest and fatigue.
She’d known from the start that Eirik had acted alone.
To stop him without provoking an all-out fight, someone else needed to intervene—and among those nearby, Aunt Claire was the best candidate.
She had unleashed large-scale magic just to draw attention to the villa.
Even if help didn’t arrive in time, Ranze had gambled that Eirik wouldn’t go so far as to kill her.
“I didn’t expect it to work this well, though.”
Just as she began licking her sore fingertip again, Erna’s patience finally snapped.
“Uncle, can’t you say something already?”
Eirik, who had been silent until now, wasn’t likely to respond just from that.
But the atmosphere did shift slightly.
“…Maybe he can’t speak, not that he won’t.”
Xavier, who secretly found his father’s situation hilarious, whispered to his sister.
“He got hit pretty hard—he probably bit the inside of his cheek or something.”
It wasn’t even that quiet of a whisper.
Alix pinched her idiot brother’s side and joined in questioning their disgraceful father.
“Father, what were you thinking?”
Eirik glanced at Claire.
She was still waiting for his explanation, so he cautiously began to speak.
“…Ever since the day she opened the vault, I’ve had my doubts. And I still do. How did she know it existed? How did she know she could open it? Why did she reveal her lineage in such a way? There’s so much I want to ask. It’s not something I can just dismiss as coincidence.”
Claire nodded. There was no need to deny his suspicions.
“But you chose the most foolish method.”
“…”
“You could’ve verified the bloodline first, then decided what to ask. But by attacking first, you’ve lost your chance entirely. Now you’re too ashamed to even ask.”
Ranze had to avert her gaze to hide her guilt.
If Eirik had remained calm, his questions would have been completely valid.
Claire had even phrased it to imply she was willing to tell him—if only he’d asked.
When Ranze remained evasive, Claire returned to the original topic.
