The conversation had been progressing smoothly, the Lockwoods and the Lewinsteins appearing quite pleased with the news we shared. The evening was filled with pleasantries and careful diplomacy, each party navigating the discussion with a balance of formality and warmth. However, midway through the al, Angelina hesitantly broached another subject.
"You ntioned that Lady Mirielle is at your territory. Where is that exactly?" Her tone was casual, but I caught the glint of eagerness beneath the carefully crafted nonchalance. "I—I was thinking of exchanging letters with her. If I knew her whereabouts, I could keep in touch."
I exhaled softly, setting down my wine glass with a small smile. "I apologize, my lady, but that would be difficult."
Her brows knit slightly. "Why?"
I took a mont, glancing at the n seated around the table, reading their expressions before I carefully chose my response. "You see, as a rchant, I am constantly on the move. And currently, where we are living is not exactly a place where one could send a letter."
Angelina’s expression faltered slightly, her fingers tightening around the stem of her glass. "Why? Where is she?"
I pressed my lips together before answering, asuring my words deliberately. "I had so business in Sestia, so she is currently there."
The sound of silverware clattering against porcelain echoed through the dining hall, cutting through the carefully maintained air of civility. The room went still. Every head turned toward in unmasked shock.
"Sestia?" Alan and Gareth spoke at the sa ti, their voices edged with alarm.
I sighed, allowing a weariness to seep into my expression, though in truth, I had fully anticipated this reaction. "Let make this clear—I do not belong to either Denril or Sestia. I am a rchant with ties everywhere. I let Mirielle stay here before because she wanted to help the people, but now that her work is done, she is living as I do. I hope there are no misconceptions about our choices."
The tension at the table was palpable. Count Lewinstein exhaled heavily, his shoulders dropping slightly in what appeared to be reluctant acceptance.
"So there is no way to communicate with her..." he murmured, disappointnt flickering in his gaze. Beside him, Angelina looked equally downcast.
I tapped my fingers lightly against my wine glass before offering, "I shall pass on your ssages to her and ensure you receive a reply."
Angelina’s face lit up with hope. "Truly?"
"Of course," I said smoothly, taking a sip of my drink.
As they processed this reassurance, I leaned back slightly, shifting the direction of the conversation. "Speaking of communication, there’s actually soone among my people whom you are well acquainted with."
Beside , Lyall stiffened. Though he kept his composure, I could feel the sharp weight of his gaze settling on , filled with unspoken questions.
Alan frowned. "Acquainted with us?" His brow furrowed. "Who?"
I let a small pause linger, watching their curiosity deepen before I finally said, "Asher."
Silence. Thick and heavy.
Alan’s grip on his glass tightened, his knuckles turning white. Count Lewinstein’s gaze darkened, and Angelina looked as if she had been struck speechless.
The silence stretched on until, finally, Alan found his voice. "Asher is among your people?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
I tilted my head slightly. "Pardon , what do you an by why?"
Alan’s lips pressed into a thin line. Angelina and the Count exchanged uneasy glances.
"Don’t you know?" Alan asked carefully.
I raised an eyebrow, feigning ignorance. "Don’t I know what?"
It was fun, playing clueless.
Alan sighed heavily and turned toward Angelina, as if seeking her approval before speaking further. She hesitated, then gave him a small, nearly imperceptible nod.
"Asher... was in love with your wife," Alan finally admitted, his voice tinged with hesitation.
A quiet hush fell over the table.
I took my ti before responding, tilting my head slightly as if considering the revelation. "I know that."
Alan’s jaw nearly dropped. His shock was almost comical.
"And you still took him with you?" Count Lewinstein’s voice carried a note of disbelief.
"Mirielle asked to bring him along," I replied nonchalantly, lifting my water glass to my lips. "She pitied him, felt guilty, and said she wanted to take responsibility. That’s why I offered him a job."
The Lewinsteins looked as if they had chewed on sothing unbearably bitter.
"And since he had nothing left over here, he ca," I added simply.
The Count looked positively livid, while Angelina’s expression was a complicated mix of regret and sothing akin to sorrow.
I leaned forward slightly, my voice taking on an air of casual conversation. "I actually felt quite proud of him when I learned that he worked so hard to beco the Captain of the Templar Knights... only to give it all up in a flash when he thought they had abducted Mirielle."
Angelina’s lips parted in shock. Gareth stilled, looking as if he were weighing whether or not to interject. Alan just stared at , as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
"He what?" Angelina gasped.
"Oh yes," I nodded. "But that wasn’t even the highlight of his dedication... The reason why he was in the Temple in the first place... was to avenge his mother’s death."
A heavy stillness settled over the room.
The adults at the table stiffened, their postures rigid. Their faces, carefully controlled for most of the evening, finally cracked—expressions of shock, guilt, and sothing deeper warring on their features. No one spoke for a long minute.
"Are you... saying the truth right now?" Count Lewinstein finally managed.
I simply nodded. "Yes. I confird it from my sources here. I wasn’t expecting him to turn against the Temple and ruin the years of effort he spent rising to Captain. That alone showed his unwavering dedication and love for the won in his life."
The weight of my words settled over them, suffocating in its intensity. The adults at the table seed to struggle with the truth, while the oblivious children exchanged confused glances.
"Um... Mother... who are you talking about?" Lucius asked cautiously.
All eyes turned to Angelina.
Her hands trembled slightly as she clutched her napkin, her throat working as she swallowed deeply. Her eyes shone with unshed tears, her voice shaky as she finally answered.
"Y-Your uncle," she whispered.
Lucius frowned. "But Uncle Alan is our only uncle, right?" Elle piped up, looking at her mother in confusion.
Angelina sniffled, shaking her head. "No."
Alan and Count Lewinstein remained fixated on their plates, their expressions unreadable. Gareth shifted uncomfortably, clearly pondering how to diffuse the tension I had so effortlessly created.
I should have done this four years ago. But sohow, this one particular truth had failed to co across to these people.
Still, at the very least, Asher would finally have his overdue acknowledgnt.
The dinner ended on a quiet note, tension still lingering in the air like a storm that had yet to pass. As Lyall and I walked toward our rooms, the faint echo of our footsteps filled the dimly lit corridor.
"Was it really necessary to do that, Master?" Lyall finally asked, his voice low but pointed.
I exhaled, running a hand through my hair before glancing at him. "I had assud they knew of Asher’s sacrifices. Clearly, they didn’t. That man deserves an apology from his own family. That was the last thing I could do for him."
Lyall was silent for a beat before he asked, "And if he tries anything from here on?"
I t his gaze with unwavering certainty. "Then it’ll be a strike."
Before Lyall could respond, a voice called out from behind.
"Lord Ace."
I turned to see Gareth approaching, his usually composed expression edged with tension.
He stopped in front of us, hesitating slightly before speaking. "... About what happened at the dining hall."
I sighed, already anticipating his concern. "I know their family situation, Marquis," I said, my voice calm but firm. "But just like Mirielle, I feel bad for Asher, too. He’s spent his entire life like an orphan despite having a family. Mirielle asked to take him in so he could find a ho, but even there, he remains stuck—trapped under the weight of the past."
I studied Gareth’s face before continuing, "I thought that if he were to be free of that burden, he would need soone to clear away the misunderstandings. To make them see what they’ve been missing all these years."
Gareth lowered his gaze, exhaling deeply. "I... understand." He ran a hand through his hair before shaking his head. "To be honest, I had my own misconceptions about Asher. When I first beca engaged to Angelina, I thought he was just an ungrateful man who abandoned his family. But now, knowing the truth—that he spent all those years working to avenge his mother—I realize how wrong I was."
He glanced up, a look of reluctant admiration in his eyes. "Even I find him admirable now."
I smiled faintly, and Gareth returned it.
"You should’ve been here sooner, Lord Ace," he mused, shaking his head with a wry chuckle. "This family could’ve co together much earlier if you had."
I smiled back, though mine held an apology within it. "I know. I’m late... but at least now, I can witness it finally happening."
He extended his hand, a silent agreent. I clasped it, sealing the mont with an unspoken understanding.
That night, Gareth insisted we stay over, and I agreed. I sent Nox to deliver a ssage to Damon about our absence, and he returned just as the night settled into stillness.
Perched on the pillow beside , his dark feathers ruffled slightly as I brushed my fingers through them. He leaned into my touch, his soft hoot breaking the silence.
I glanced at the clock—midnight.
It was ti.
I slipped out of bed and changed into a different attire, reaching for my the mana stone studded on my ear. As I touched it, the red gem shifted into a deep sapphire blue, and in an instant, my entire appearance transford. My reflection in the mirror now bore the image of Ocean—long, flowing blue hair cascading over my shoulders, a stark contrast to my usual self.
Nox let out a low hoot, watching with knowing eyes.
I smiled at him before turning toward the window. There was an important eting tonight.
And I couldn’t be late.
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