Saga of the Two-World Emperor
Volume 1: A Spark in the Ashes
Chapter 6 – The Cage Called Family
Adrian watched Demian's broad back disappear, the door left wide open like the gaping maw of a beast, inviting him into a trap. His eyes grew several shades colder.
*Father is asking for me… 'good news'?*
In the memories of the old Adrian, the words "good news" from the mouths of Demian or Lady Isabella always meant disaster for him.
He slowly pushed his frail body out of bed. Every muscle protested with an ache as if they belonged to someone else. He staggered to a rickety wooden wardrobe, its hinges rusted. When he opened it, the musty smell of clothes that had never seen the sun wafted out. Inside were only a few old, faded garments—hand-me-downs from Demian that no longer fit him.
He chose the best-looking set he could find and dressed himself slowly. It was a linen shirt, once white but now yellowed with age, and a pair of dark brown trousers. Every step of getting dressed drained his energy immensely. He looked at his reflection in a small mirror with a tarnished edge… the young man in the glass was pale and thin, like a twig ready to snap at any moment.
*I have to endure…* he told himself. *For now, I am Adrian Walther… I must play this part.*
He walked out of his bedroom, his personal cage. The touch of the cold stone floor beneath his bare feet was a stark reminder of his reality. The hallway in the west wing of the manor, where his room and the old servants' quarters were located, was in a visible state of disrepair. The once-beautiful wallpaper was peeling off in sheets, and the crimson carpet running along the corridor was faded and frayed. The air was cold and damp, a clear sign of long-term neglect.
But as he walked past the west wing and into the central hall of the manor, the atmosphere changed instantly.
The marble floor was polished to a high sheen. A new, luxurious carpet was laid over it. Oil paintings of the Walther family's ancestors in full armor hung majestically on the walls. There were even expensive porcelain vases filled with fresh flowers… everything was pristine and well-maintained. The faint scent of polish and flowers filled the air.
This was the domain of Lady Isabella and Demian… an illusion of the prosperity the Walther family desperately tried to maintain.
Adrian walked through the hall to his father's study in the east wing. He didn't knock, but pushed the door open softly, as he remembered the old Adrian used to do.
The study, once filled with weapons and knightly armor, was now furnished with luxurious furniture that reflected a woman's taste. A thick, soft fur rug lay on the floor, and the faint scent of floral tea lingered in the air.
An old man with silver-white hair, whose back was once as straight as a spear, now sat hunched in a large chair behind a massive desk. His face was etched with the lines of weariness and resignation to fate. This was Baron Edgar Walther… a once-great knight, and his father.
Beside him sat Lady Isabella, his stepmother. She still maintained the beauty of a middle-aged woman, her dark green dress accentuating her fair skin. She was pouring tea with a leisurely grace, but the eyes that glanced at him were as cold as ice.
And leaning against the fireplace was Demian. He stood with his arms crossed, a mocking smile on his face as he looked at Adrian.
"You've arrived… Adrian," Baron Edgar said, his voice flat and emotionless. "Come, sit."
Adrian walked over and sat down in the chair opposite his father, keeping his head slightly bowed, perfectly playing the part of the timid and fearful old Adrian.
"I heard from the royal physician that you've recovered," the Baron continued. "How is your body?"
"Better, Father," Adrian replied in a faint voice.
"Good… that's good." The Baron nodded, then glanced at Lady Isabella, as if seeking permission to speak further.
Lady Isabella took a slow sip of her tea before placing the cup down gently.
"The reason we summoned you today… is because we have something important to inform you of," she said, her voice smooth but laced with authority. "It concerns your future… and the future of the Walther family."
Adrian remained silent, waiting for the time bomb to detonate.
"You are well aware that the financial situation of our family is not what it used to be," Lady Isabella continued. "And Demian… my son… has come of age to enlist in the Royal Knights, which requires a significant expense for the finest armor and weapons."
Demian puffed out his chest with pride at the mention of his name.
"Therefore… for the sake of our family," Lady Isabella's gaze locked onto Adrian, "we have arranged a marriage for you."
There it was… the 'good news'.
"Your fiancée is… Lady Elisa, the only daughter of the Cornelius family."
The Cornelius family… In Adrian's memory, they were merely merchants who had recently become wealthy from the spice trade, new money with no noble blood or honor.
"The Cornelius family may not have a title," Lady Isabella said, as if reading his mind, "but they have what our family needs… money. They are willing to provide a very generous dowry… enough for Demian to join the Royal Knights with the honor he deserves, and to restore our manor."
"It's an honor for you," Demian interjected with a sneer, "to finally be of some use to the family… instead of just being a burden who wastes money day after day."
"Demian!" Baron Edgar chided, his voice a little louder, but it seemed to carry no weight.
Adrian remained silent, his mind processing everything at high speed.
*Selling their sickly son in exchange for a dowry for their favorite son… a logical business decision… but utterly devoid of humanity.*
There were many rumors about Lady Elisa Cornelius… some said she was obese and ugly… some said she was spoiled and cruel… and some said her health was just as fragile as his.
Whichever it was… they were sending him to hell.
"And… do I have the right to refuse, Father?" Adrian asked, his voice trembling—a perfect performance.
Lady Isabella let out a soft laugh.
"The right to refuse? What rights does a boy like you have?" she said coldly. "This is not a request… it is a command. The engagement ceremony will be held in one month. Prepare yourself."
One month… that was his deadline.
In that very moment, the feeling of being pressured, belittled, and the fury of being forced to submit crashed down upon Adrian's soul. While the old Adrian would have trembled in fear, the spirit of "Aden" within him refused to yield. He refused to be trampled upon.
Unconsciously… he gathered all his focus and willpower, staring deep into Lady Isabella's cold eyes.
In that instant… Lady Isabella, who was about to lift her teacup for another sip, suddenly froze mid-motion. She felt an invisible "pressure" radiating from the thin boy in front of her. It wasn't a physical force, but a mental one that sent a chilling sensation through her body and made her breath catch in her throat for a moment. She frowned in confusion… *What was that feeling?*… but it vanished as quickly as it came, like a mere illusion.
Adrian himself was surprised by what had happened, but he quickly masked it. He lowered his head again, hiding the calculating fire in his eyes behind his hair.
He feigned a deep, shaky breath, as if about to cry, before looking up again with a look of resignation.
"…I… understand, my lady."
His obedient demeanor satisfied everyone in the room. Demian smirked triumphantly. Lady Isabella dismissed the strange feeling from her mind and nodded with satisfaction. Baron Edgar let out a sigh of relief.
"It's good that you understand," the Baron said. "Do this for the family, Adrian."
"You may leave now," Lady Isabella waved her hand dismissively, as if shooing away a dog.
Adrian stood up, bowed slowly, and walked out of the study in silence. He played the part of a pitiful boy defeated by fate flawlessly.
He returned to his shabby bedroom, closing the door softly.
The moment his back was against the door… the mask of weakness disintegrated instantly.
He lifted his head. The eyes that had shown fear just moments ago were now as sharp and cold as a blade. The lips that had trembled… now curved into a smile… a cold smile, full of calculations and plans.
*An engagement… a massive dowry…* he thought.
*You think this is how you get rid of a burden… but for me… this is an 'opportunity' you've handed to me on a silver platter.*
*The Cornelius family has money… and money is what I need most right now.*
*To control a merchant, one must speak their language… the language of 'profit'.*
*And to create profit… I need 'starting capital'.*
He summoned the system window.
*One month… I have one month… to find my first capital and flip this entire chessboard.*
A spark had been lit… amidst the ashes of despair.
(End of Chapter 6)