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Under Allen's "enthusiastic" invitation, Edna—her smile stiff—chose to flee in a panic.
She didn't even stay for the afternoon magic and swordsmanship classes.
The reason?
Perhaps because, in her eyes, Allen was too much of a wild card.
If he pulled out his sword a few more times during the afternoon training session, it might shatter the decades of professionalism she had painstakingly maintained.
And that was something she absolutely could not accept.
Weren't Water God swordsmen supposed to be calm and composed?
This one speaks politely, acts steadily, and—from what I've heard—most Water God practitioners serve as knights in royal courts across the world, leaving a refined impression.
So why does this guy look like he's ready to draw his blade at the slightest provocation, just like Ghislaine when she first arrived at House Boreas?!
Are all adventurers like this?!
Just as Edna hurriedly excused herself and the group prepared to head to the dining hall, a minor commotion erupted.
"We're going to the servants' dining area, Eris. You can't come with us."
"Why not?!"
Eris stomped her feet on the wooden floorboards, her dissatisfaction clear.
Though phrased as a question, she already knew the answer—she was expected to dine with her grandfather, father, and mother.
Her lips twisted into a pout.
Rudeus scratched his head helplessly and glanced at Allen, hoping he'd step in again.
But Allen, seemingly indifferent to Eris' tantrum, simply led the way without a word.
Sylphie spoke up instead.
"Eris, you're supposed to eat upstairs. We'll see you again soon, okay?" Her tone was gentle, coaxing.
"I know! I'll just walk to the dining hall with you! Someone will come get me—"
Her voice cut off abruptly.
As they turned the corridor's corner, they were met with four beastgirl maids standing in a row, as if they had been waiting for them.
Their smiles were warm as they looked at Allen.
Allen's gaze met the lead cat-eared maid's before lowering slightly.
"Eris, you're eating with us today."
"Huh?! Really?!"
The cat-eared maid, Eris' personal attendant, kept her smile perfectly in place.
"It's true. Just as Mr. Allen said."
"Mr. Allen, Miss Sylphie, Young Master Rudeus."
"Lord Sauros has invited you to dine upstairs."
The Dining Hall
Under the maids' guidance, the group arrived at the dining hall.
The doors swung open.
Before them stretched a grand floor-to-ceiling window, sunlight streaming through stained glass and casting prismatic reflections across the room.
At the table sat three figures, their silhouettes elongated by the light:
Phillip, Sauros, and Hilda.
Phillip and Hilda sat with refined posture, their faces half-lit by the shifting colors of the glass.
Sauros, however, sprawled in his chair at the center of the table, legs stretched out, arms crossed—every bit the retired but still formidable military officer he once was.
His voice boomed with a single word.
"Sit."
Aside from Ghislaine (who, as the estate's guard, didn't join the meal), the four took their seats.
Eris sat beside Sauros, her usually wild demeanor subdued in comparison to her grandfather's untamed presence.
Allen, Rudeus, and Sylphie sat across from them after a brief bow.
Rudeus had initially expected Allen to take the center seat—facing Sauros directly.
King versus King. That made sense.
But as they moved to sit, his self-proclaimed "king" simply patted his shoulder and nudged him into the middle seat.
Only when Rudeus' backside hit the chair—and Sauros' bearded face filled his vision—did he realize what had happened.
…Huh?
Why am I here?
Where's my king?!
He turned his head.
His "king" was stirring his wild vegetable soup, lips curled in an unreadable smile.
Rudeus' eye twitched.
A quick glance around the table confirmed the seating arrangement:
Allen, by the window, sat across from Phillip. Phillip watched him with amused interest, but Allen kept his gaze lowered.
Rudeus, in the center, faced Sauros. The old lord's imposing aura made him feel like prey under a lion's gaze.
Sylphie, near the door, exchanged a polite nod with Hilda. The latter's eyes had been unfocused, lingering on the soup before Rudeus—but when Sylphie acknowledged her, she returned the gesture with a gentle smile.
Sauros dismissed the maids with a wave.
The moment the doors shut, he spoke bluntly.
"We've finished investigating Thomas."
No preamble. No sugarcoating.
"Good kill."
When Sauros didn't elaborate, Phillip smoothly picked up.
"Yesterday's inquiry confirmed it—aside from colluding with nobles in the capital, Thomas was guilty of embezzlement, skimming profits from the pharmaceutical workshops, and hoarding over 700 gold coins in illicit funds."
"Normally, I'd handle the aftermath—diplomatically smoothing things over with the city's factions. But Father decided to take matters into his own hands."
Sauros grunted.
"You'd have taken weeks. I cleaned it up in an afternoon."
"As you say, Father."
Allen's expression remained neutral, but Hilda—hearing the details for the first time—stiffened slightly.
"Cleaned it up"?
That meant executed.
Every official, associate, and relative tied to Thomas—hundreds of people—wiped out in a single afternoon.
She had been too preoccupied with her own emotions yesterday to pay much attention, but now the gravity of the situation struck her.
Had Allen been acting under orders when he killed Thomas?
But… that's not something a tutor should be involved in.
A… tutor?
Her brows lifted slightly.
Father and Phillip's attitude toward Allen is unusual.
Was yesterday morning another one of Phillip's "tests"? A way to evaluate Allen for future recruitment?
Her eyes flicked toward her husband, searching for clues in his expression.
What she saw instead:
Phillip, smiling faintly, his gaze fixed on the person across from him.
Sunlight through the stained glass painted his curly hair a soft amber.
Her breath hitched.
Earlier, when Sylphie had caught her staring, she had pretended to focus on the soup—but her attention had never truly left…
Allen.
And now, sitting across from her husband…
In her peripheral vision…
The same shade of amber.
The exact same hair color.
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