There was such a thing as a person’s impression.

It was also called an “aura,” or a “presence.”

It had no tangible form, yet no one doubted that it existed.

This was because people understood how such impressions were formed.

For instance, the wrinkles of someone with a cruel temperament would be deeply etched over years of cruelty.

A person who had spent their life smiling would have lines shaped by laughter, creating a gentle and friendly atmosphere.

In the end, what people called “presence” was a sculpture carved out of one’s life experiences.

From that perspective, the transformed impression of Elric was extraordinary.

The moment he revealed emotion, the change in him was strikingly different from before.

To the Wein couple, Elric’s presence felt sharp—so much so that it was less like a person and more like a razor blade being swung right in front of them.

An aura of someone who could kill—or had already killed.

And that was the truth.

Elric had killed many people.

He had spent more than half of his life in places where such killings were nothing special.

During the formative years of his identity, he had learned to survive by taking the blood and flesh of the living.

He had learned to weigh money against human life.

He had learned that such things were not particularly significant.

Strictly speaking, he was a murderer.

A man so ruthless that he earned the nickname “Sword Ghost.”

For the Wein couple, who had never been exposed to such a life, it was only natural to feel tense in his changed presence.

After all, isn’t “presence” simply an extension of thoughts like “that person seems kind” or “that person seems dangerous”?

Such intuitive judgment becomes stronger through life experience and repeated encounters with people.

As nobles who had spent their lives observing others’ expressions, the Wein couple could clearly feel that Elric’s nature had changed—if anything, it felt even more intense than before.

“You asked what I could do about it. Will you answer that?”

His face still wore a smile, yet they instinctively shrank back.

And in such situations, a certain distinction between types of people became evident.

It came from the difference in their environments.

Soldiers who had fought on Elric’s battlefields feared him.

They knew that being pierced by a sword meant death, that violence had no mercy, and that Elric’s blade was lethal. So when he appeared, they would panic and flee.

But the Wein couple were different.

They had lived their entire lives far removed from violence.

They lived in a society where rude speech might be criticized but never physically punished, a society that regarded violence as vulgar, and resolved even conflicts through words alone.

They did not understand how terrifying violence truly was.

They did not know how easily a person could die, nor how simple it was to kill someone, nor that there were people who did such things as casually as eating a meal.

There is a saying: “A puppy does not know fear of a tiger.”

Why does such a phrase exist? Why would a small puppy bark at something twice its size?

It is because it does not recognize danger.

It mistakes the tension of the situation for something less serious than it is.

A puppy raised in comfort assumes even a tiger will not harm it, just as it would assume a large human would not either.

The Wein couple were just like that.

“Are you finished speaking now!”

The man’s voice rose higher than ever before.

His eyes widened, his face deeply furrowed in what was clearly an attempt at intimidation.

It was an instinctive act of embarrassment at having been momentarily intimidated.

It was like a dog trying to appear fierce despite its fear—an attempt to soothe a wounded pride.

That was the greatest difference between him and Elric.

“And if I am finished?” Elric asked calmly.

He remained composed.

His voice was soft, his expression unchanged, and he still sat comfortably on the sofa.

Unlike Joseph, Elric placed no value in raising his voice.

He knew a far simpler and more certain method.

One simply draws a weapon and eliminates the opponent.

Thus, he showed no unnecessary anger.

In the language of Elbis Graham:

“A beast does not boast of its authority. What must be boasted is not true authority.”

These were words Elric had once heard while escorting him during a hunting festival.

Now, unlike when he was young, Elric understood that composure itself could be the greatest threat.

“I will ask again. Do you have any legal grounds to claim inheritance? I am not speaking of emotional claims, but legal ones.”

In truth, Elric was in the right.

He knew the inheritance belonged to him.

What could they possibly interfere with, against the will of the deceased?

Their intentions were already obvious.

Expensive clothes compared to ten years ago, desperate eyes seeking inheritance, and visible anxiety.

They were financially desperate.

“No?” Elric asked again.

Even aside from inheritance, he held the advantage.

Portman was financially supported by a fund, and Elric, as the heir, controlled that very fund.

If he wished, he could starve them without difficulty.

Of course, he had not yet decided whether he would remain in the Wein estate—but they did not know that.

The Wein couple fell silent.

Elric smiled faintly.

“Greed… it seems you are the ones indulging in it.”

“You rotten—”

“Watch your words,” Elric interrupted.

Joseph Wein’s body trembled.

Fear often leads directly to clarity.

It cools the mind and reveals truths previously ignored.

Elric stood up, leaning on his staff.

“I disappeared for ten years, yet I am still a Portman. I am the heir my father designated. And you are living off Portman’s money. I believe I do not need to spell out the rest for you.”

A faint laugh escaped him.

“Come to think of it, it is rather amusing. In the end, isn’t the only one truly entitled to this inheritance my wife? On what basis did you think it was yours? Do you want repayment for raising me?”

A memory surfaced.

Ten years ago—the words that had driven him to run away.

“Repay what you owe for raising you.”

They may not have said it directly to Tiria, but their attitude made it clear enough.

Even unspoken, such feelings are easily perceived.

And empathy strengthens understanding.

It turned into something close to vindictive satisfaction.

“Repay what you have been given. Do not be greedy.”

The harshest words he knew were those of his father.

Ironically, at this moment, Elric was imitating the very man he had once hated.

“I will take my leave.”

He turned to leave the room, staff tapping lightly.

Then—

“D-Do you think you’ll get away with this! Do you know who I am—!”

Joseph shouted, unable to strike but lashing out verbally.

Elric turned to look at him.

The man’s flushed face looked pitiful.

Elric smiled.

“Try it. Whatever you wish. I look forward to it.”

He remained composed until the end.

Because he felt no threat.

Even if they tried something desperate, he doubted they were worse than the Western battlefield.

“Just remember one thing. I do not like being tested twice.”

With that, he left.

The door clicked shut—

And then—

“Aaaaargh!”

A shrill scream echoed like that of a frightened child.

Later

The carriage returned to the Portman estate.

As Elric watched the passing scenery, he felt shame and self-loathing rising within him.

His face burned slightly.

“Pathetic,” he thought.

Truthfully, he had acted no better than them.

He, too, was guilty regarding Tiria.

Even if he believed she had already left, was that an excuse?

If not, it was just cowardly self-justification.

What should he do to be different from them?

“…Stop the carriage for a moment.”

It halted.

A wheat field belonging to the Portman estate stretched out before him.

Tiria was there.

She noticed him and bowed slightly before turning back to her work.

Elric stepped down and walked toward her.

The soil made movement difficult compared to the carriage road.

“You there,” he called.

He could not bring himself to call her “wife.”

Tiria turned back.

“Yes?”

Still as distant and unreadable as ever.

Somehow, that made him feel less tense.

Elric smiled gently.

“Would you join me for dinner tonight? There is something I would like to discuss.”

“Can it not be said here?”

“I would not want to disturb your work.”

A brief silence.

Then—

“If a slightly late hour is fine, then yes.”

Relief washed over him.

“Thank you. Then I shall see you tonight.”

As the saying goes, the one who tied the knot must be the one to untie it.

And so, that night, Elric intended to apologize—for what he had done ten years ago when he left.