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Bordeaux paid Zonda no mind.
He continued drifting his fingers along the rows of carefully preserved bottles, the soft clink of glass echoing faintly through the cellar. His movents were slow, deliberate and almost leisurely until his hand stopped.
A smile spread across his face.
"This one looks good," he said, pulling the bottle free and studying it under the dim cellar light.
The color drained from Zonda's face.
"Bordeaux… no, Bordeaux-sama," he said weakly. His voice trembled despite himself. "Anyone but that one."
A mory flashed vividly through Zonda's mind.
The first ti Violet had tasted that wine.
She had taken a single sip and instead of spitting it out like she always did, her eyes had widened. She had shouted, loudly and without restraint, that it was her favorite. That alone had been shocking enough. Violet never loved a wine on the first taste.
If she returned and found this bottle missing…
Forget the Purple Lineage.
The entire Underworld would be in danger.
Bordeaux tilted his head slightly, noticing Zonda's reaction. "Why?" he asked casually.
Zonda swallowed hard. "Because… because that is Violet-sama's favorite wine. You cannot, under any circumstances take it."
Bordeaux's grin widened.
"Her favorite wine?" he repeated. "Then it must be good."
Zonda's eyes widened in horror. "Huh? Did you not hear what I said?! If you take that, she will kill everyone!"
"Don't worry," Bordeaux replied lightly. "Just tell her I took it." He lifted the bottle slightly. "I'll be at Blanc's castle. If she has a problem with it, she can co find ."
And just like that, he vanished.
Zonda stood frozen in place, staring at the empty space where Bordeaux had been.
"…He's gone," he muttered. "He really just left."
His shoulders slumped. "Shit. If only I could beat him in a fight."
---
Bordeaux materialized before a massive set of ornate doors.
A satisfied smile tugged at his lips as he pushed them open without hesitation.
"Oh, big sister," he called out cheerfully. "Where are you?"
The voice echoed through the hall.
Moss, who had been sitting cross-legged on a sofa, imdiately rose to his feet, thinking an intruder had entered. But the mont his eyes landed on Bordeaux, his expression twisted into clear annoyance.
"It's you again," Moss said flatly. "At this point, you might as well move in."
Bordeaux halted mid-step and looked at Moss, studying him for a mont. Then he sighed.
"You know," he said, "sotis when I look at you, all I feel is pity."
"Huh?" Moss replied, genuinely confused.
Bordeaux shook his head. "You're already so short. And then you go and get a skill that only makes you even shorter." He gestured vaguely. "Basically, you can never see things from a high view."
Moss scoffed. "Haha. You think you're so funny." He crossed his arms. "I'll have you know being short has plenty of perks compared to being tall. And even if I wanted to change my height, I could." He straightened proudly. "This height is perfect for serving Blanc-sama."
"I see," Bordeaux said. He paused, then added, "Speaking of Blanc, do you know where she is?"
Moss let out a tired sigh. "Third floor. Having her tea."
"Oh," Bordeaux replied. "Okay. Thanks."
He imdiately started walking toward the stairs.
Moss called after him, "You probably shouldn't disturb Blanc-sama while she's having tea."
Bordeaux waved a hand dismissively without turning around. "It's fine. Her little brother is visiting. She should be over the moon."
Moss watched him go, shaking his head.
"…He really is an idiot who never listens to others," he muttered softly.
A few monts later, Bordeaux reached the third floor.
He made his way down the quiet corridor, the soft carpet muffling his footsteps, until he stopped in front of the tea room. Without knocking, he pushed the door open.
"Sister—"
Blanc flinched.
The sudden intrusion startled her enough that the teacup in her hand tilted, warm liquid spilling across the magazine resting on her lap. The pages darkened instantly, steam curling upward.
Bordeaux, completely oblivious, stepped further inside.
"I borrowed so top-class wine from Violet," he said casually. "I thought maybe we could share it and play so gas. You know, so sibling bonding exercises."
Blanc didn't answer.
Instead, a cold, oppressive aura began to seep out from her, filling the room like creeping frost.
Bordeaux finally noticed.
He swallowed. "Blanc… are you okay?"
Blanc slowly turned her head toward him.
Her expression was flat. Irritated and dangerous.
"Did Moss not tell you," she asked calmly, "not to disturb my tea session?"
"Well, he did," Bordeaux replied awkwardly. "But I didn't think it would be that big of a problem. I an, your brother ca to visit you."
Blanc lifted her hand and gestured toward the soaked magazine and the spilled tea.
"Do you see now," she said coldly, "the result of you never listening to what anyone says?" Her eyes narrowed. "Situations like this happen."
Bordeaux scratched the back of his head. "Sorry… I guess."
Blanc stood up.
"I guess," she repeated.
She stepped forward, cracking her knuckles one by one.
"I guess?" she said again.
Bordeaux instinctively took a step back. "Blanc, let's calm down for a bit—"
"No," Blanc interrupted. "Let big sister teach you about respect." Her lips curved into a thin smile. "Maybe next ti, you won't disturb my tea ti."
A single tear welled up at the corner of Bordeaux's eye as he braced himself.
A short while later, Bordeaux sat slumped on the floor.
A large swelling had ford on the top of his head, throbbing visibly.
Blanc, on the other hand, looked radiant.
She leaned down, rubbing her cheek affectionately against his head, smiling wider than before. "Big sister is so happy you ca to visit."
Bordeaux stared ahead blankly. "If you were truly happy," he said flatly, "you wouldn't have beaten to a pulp."
Blanc straightened and released him.
"As your big sister," she said matter-of-factly, "it's my duty to teach you discipline. If I don't, who will?" She crossed her arms. "Now then, why did you co to today?"
Bordeaux rubbed his head. "I just wanted to play so board gas."
Blanc blinked.
"…Board gas?"
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