IHRS 32

Chapter 32

Once again, I was reminded that Gepetto was the son of the man behind all the schemes.

“Well… he’s not an idiot, that’s for sure.”

With that sharp brain of his, it was a shame that all he ever did was stash away secret funds and smuggle drugs behind the marquis’s back.

“……”

After a long ride, the carriage finally stopped in front of the Marquisate of Leweiz.

The long-abandoned mansion lay wrapped in an eerie silence.

Yet, oddly enough, nothing seemed broken or in urgent need of repair.

…I couldn’t deny that even this empty mansion was still a better place to stay than the ruined old temple.

“Let me ask you one more thing.”

“What now?” Gepetto snapped irritably.

“You deliberately didn’t disown me, did you?”

Back at the tribunal, I thought Gepetto simply lacked the authority or the guts to officially cast me out. But now, sitting in this carriage with him, I’d changed my mind.

He was sharper than I’d thought.

Besides, back when the Marquis was still alive, Gepetto had gone on daily tirades about kicking me out of the family. It stood to reason that he already knew how to do it.

Gepetto’s shoulders twitched. He bit his lower lip, hesitating for a long time before finally forcing his voice out.

“That day, when you took the disownment papers and left all happy-like… I don’t know, something about it just felt off.”

The moment I got that confession, I grabbed him by the collar.

“You crazy bastard!”

“Eek!”

His scream was as pitiful as his existence.

The Leweiz mansion was nothing more than an empty shell now.

The marquis’s kin and servants had scattered the day Gepetto was arrested.

Meaning, there wasn’t a single soul left to witness our little “fist-based discussion.”

“Why sully your noble hands on the likes of him, my lady?”

Masha stopped me gently.

“The young master will now have to live watching the Leweiz house sink beneath the waves. And since he’s become rather frail… I fear even the smallest shock might cause him to collapse.”

At first, I thought Masha was showing pity for Gepetto’s prison-thinned frame.

‘Ah. I was so wrong.’

It turned out, Masha’s revenge was only just beginning.

“That’s precisely why I think the young master should regain his healthy physique as soon as possible.”

“What?!” Gepetto yelped. “You’re gonna make me diet?!”

The way he freaked out made it clear—he thought once he got stronger, Masha would beat him the same way he’d once beaten her. His instinctive step back said it all.

“See? Should’ve lived a better life.”

But Masha wasn’t wrong.

I’d brought Gepetto along because I needed him to help dismantle the Leweiz family from within.

I wanted history to record it as self-destruction—for the name “Leweiz” to quietly vanish into oblivion.

For that, I needed someone who knew the inner workings of the house.

And since I couldn’t fully trust him, I’d also had his name erased from the noble registry.

‘If he’s got no chance to become Marquis, he won’t get any funny ideas.’

As for my own family record… I decided to leave it untouched for now.

I still needed a formal reason to come and go from the Leweiz estate. Once the house crumbled completely, the registry would be invalid anyway. So, no need to worry.

‘Right, can’t have Gepetto falling apart before I’ve used him properly.’

Masha really was a smart one.

Fortunately, despite being thinner, Gepetto still looked physically capable enough as he walked steadily ahead.

‘Perfect. Feed him, work him to the bone, and no guilt attached.’

I was entertaining such benevolent employer thoughts when Gepetto suddenly stopped at the entrance of the mansion and turned around.

“…You’re gonna live here too, right?”

“Well, for now.”

There were two reasons for that.

First—because I didn’t trust him.

If I wanted to keep an eye on him and make sure he pulled his weight, I needed him close.

‘And obviously, Masha will be the watchdog.’

Since Gepetto was the son of her enemy, no one would be more diligent in monitoring him.

And the second reason…

[Wouldn’t the Leweiz estate be a more suitable place to raise a child than that ruined temple?]

It was Asel’s suggestion.

He’d even mentioned Seraphina as his reason—making it impossible for me to refuse.

The abandoned temple, divine blessing or not, had collapsing walls and rotting floors. It was no place for Seraphina to live.

‘This mansion has plenty of rooms. I can make a space for her.’

I was in the middle of wondering where to set up Seraphina’s room when I felt a prickling gaze on my face.

It was Gepetto.

Still standing at the entrance, waiting quietly, eyes expectant.

Patience—something rare for him.

Wait. Could it be…

“Confess now.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’ve rigged something in there, haven’t you? If you confess now, I’ll consider reducing your sentence.”

“What? No, I didn’t!”

He shouted, but when I pressed further, his shoulders slumped, and he mumbled,

“I mean… yeah, I did mess up a lot before…”

“And?”

“And I figured if you’re here, the imperial knights won’t come dragging me off again.”

In other words, he thought being near me made him safer.

His face was still pale—clearly traumatized by the day Asel and the knights stormed his home—but… I felt no sympathy.

‘You’d think I personally framed an innocent man.’

“What do you even take me for? If you start your drug nonsense again, I won’t save you.”

Gepetto snapped his head toward me with a glare.

“Damn it, I know that much!”

He stomped hard as he stormed into the mansion.

When nothing exploded or screamed after a few minutes, I concluded he hadn’t set any traps.

Good—site inspection complete.

Now I could move my things from the ruined temple.

I was giving new orders to the waiting coachman when Gepetto suddenly stuck his head out the window.

“What? Where’re you going?”

“To pack.”

“…Pack?”

After months in the temple, I’d accumulated quite a bit of stuff.

More importantly, I couldn’t leave Sirin alone to take care of Seraphina any longer.

The moment I said that, Gepetto ducked back inside, threw on a jacket, and hurried after me before I could stop him.

“I’m coming too!”

His eagerness made me click my tongue.

“What are you, a kid who can’t stay home alone?”

“Shut up!” he barked, cheeks flushed red.

Then, embarrassed, he climbed into the carriage and stayed silent all the way.

But as soon as we arrived at the ruined temple, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“What the hell? You slept here when you had a house?! How could you even eat in a dump like this? This place is haunted—holy crap, that spider’s huge!”

He flailed his arms when a spider appeared. Masha steadied him by the arm before he could fall over, but he immediately yanked away.

“…I wasn’t scared!”

“Of course, young master.” Masha replied flatly.

Clearly stung by her tone, Gepetto muttered curses and stomped further inside.

“Why the hell are there so many apples?”

Then, without being told, he picked up a nearby piece of cloth and slung it over his shoulder.

Seeing him handle himself for once, Masha murmured quietly,

“Does the young master not know that you’re a wind spiritist, my lady?”

“Let him be. He says it’s strength training.”

“I see…”

Of course, Gepetto had zero upper-body strength.

He’d never done a day of physical labor in his life, so naturally a few sacks of fruit were too much.

One apple slipped out and rolled across the floor.

A small hand reached out to pick it up and offered it back to him.

“Hmph, I can do it myself!” he snapped, shoving it back into the sack. Then, realizing I hadn’t been close enough to hand it to him—his face froze.

Gepetto glanced down beside him.

“…Wh–who the hell are you?!”

Standing at his feet was Seraphina.

She looked up at him, then at me, and with an expression of total conviction said,

“Sam-tton?” (uncle?)

And then—

“UNCLE?! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!”

Gepetto’s scream echoed through the ruined temple.

The Grand Duke stood by the window, arms crossed, gazing down below.

From the shadows, a dark figure vaulted over the wall and knelt before him.

“I have returned, Your Highness.”

“Good. I trust you left no trace?”

“None whatsoever.”

That day, the Second Prince, Malken, had been discreetly eliminated—his death staged as a suicide.

He’d been too deeply entangled in the Grand Duke’s plans. If not cut off cleanly, the trail could’ve led straight back to him.

If the Second Prince had been competent…
If he’d at least succeeded in ousting Lora as the Grand Duke’s final proposal had urged…

Then perhaps his life could’ve been spared.

But he’d failed completely.

And his death—was nothing more than the price of his incompetence.