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Chapter 62
Four Gobies. When a Person Goes Mad (2)
The most surprised was Edmund. He looked shocked, but Ban was half-composed.
“Your entire family will die, you know?”
“They’ll manage to survive somehow. It’s not the concern of someone who’s about to die.”
The madness reflected in those green eyes was real.
Ban showed no excitement and spoke calmly. Yet, the moment he saw Ellie, he had already lost his composure.
He had been wary of Seth Hastings and Marc from the start, anticipating some trouble, yet he had foolishly missed the crucial moment.
If Edmund hadn’t informed him that Ellie’s room was empty upon returning from the magic tower…
The last person with Ellie had been himself.
Had he been even slightly delayed, Ellie would already be dead.
‘In this bastard’s hands…’
To Ban, Ellie was a friend.
Friends, to him, were closer than family.
Someone to share support and comfort with, who gave their presence freely.
A person he chose and who chose him in return.
Though Edmund was his first friend, the one who made him whole and honest was Ellie.
It wasn’t strange for him to choose a friend over family he couldn’t choose. At least, not to Ban.
“Act rationally. You’re too worked up right now.”
“I’m more composed than ever, Eddie. If I miss this chance, who knows when I’ll get another to approach Yan’s prince. Just like you weren’t able to kill me for a while.”
“……”
“If I leave him be, he’ll relentlessly harass Ellie—with Duke McClure’s help.”
The Duke had pulled Irene into his arms, apparently afraid Ban might harm her too.
Yet he had poured a curse on Ellie.
“Now’s actually the last chance.”
“……That might be true.”
“Right?”
Ban smiled unnaturally for the situation. Edmund let out a hollow laugh.
‘Damn, he’s pissed…’
Of course, Edmund was angry too, but he didn’t reach Ban’s extreme level.
“But Ellie will hate this.”
“She’s not dying. She just has to escape safely.”
“……”
True enough.
Persuaded by Ban’s clumsy reasoning, Edmund lowered his gaze to Marc and then, unusually, glanced at Maurice, who said nothing.
“Not going to intervene?”
“Doesn’t seem like a bad idea.”
“Huh?”
Maurice, holding Ellie upright, spoke:
“It’s a chance to leave Duke McClure untouched and blow his nose, so I won’t say a word. And since my daughter’s alive, I can’t involve Ellie unless I silence him. It may be a major problem for the Kingdom of Rosso, but the state’s affairs are none of my concern.”
Even though Maurice dropped formal titles, Duke McClure didn’t show displeasure. Marc glared at him.
“You treat me like a hunted prey. Do you think you can kill me easily?!”
Edmund made a puffing, deflated sound.
“Easy as pie.”
Through his white hair, violet eyes narrowed.
“You must be mistaken. I didn’t intervene because I couldn’t kill you. I left it to Ban because I might accidentally kill you.”
“Ban, don’t worry about what comes after. I’ll support you so you can have a luxurious escape.”
“That’s reassuring.”
Maurice smiled brightly, and Edmund shrugged. Ban, pleased that his intentions were understood, gripped the hilt of his sword.
Marc shouted in anger.
“Duke McClure, what are you doing! Call someone immediately!”
“Where’s that dog barking from?”
If Ellie had heard that, she would’ve freaked—but it showed he was her real father. Maurice smirked, and Edmund too.
Perhaps Ban had been waiting for this moment.
The moment to cast aside family and lineage under the pretense of protecting someone.
He had always disliked his family and detested his house’s principles, yet he had been frustrated by his own inability to completely abandon them.
Ban smiled broadly, raising his sword to strike, and Marc flailed and screamed. The laughing, sword-wielding Ban looked truly insane.
“Damn it, move! You vermin! Do you think you’ll survive if you kill me?! Kill me, and my army will trample this puny kingdom to dust!”
“Then I’d better kill you even more.”
“With just my word, armies will gather at the borders, burning it to ashes! Damn it, we should’ve wiped them out earlier instead of waiting…”
“If you’d been preparing for war anyway, you wouldn’t feel guilty.”
No words could sway him.
“Hurry. We need to take Ellie to a healer.”
Maurice urged him.
Realizing he couldn’t escape Ban’s grasp, and no one could stop his sword, Marc’s face finally went pale.
“Damn, Tongue, Brother…”
“If you wanted to cause such fun, you should’ve called me, Maurice.”
Maurice clicked his tongue.
“Prince Demian.”
“Brother!!”
Marc grinned like he had found salvation and shouted triumphantly.
“Damn it, move! You’re all dead now. Kneel immediately—khrk!”
“Shut up, Marc.”
Demian kicked Marc’s kneeling face, frowning in displeasure.
“Tongue, you…”
Marc, with a broken nose, looked up in confusion.
“You’ve never been able to keep a secret since childhood. Staying silent is still the hardest thing for you.”
“…hng, ugh…”
“Even dogs understand ‘wait’ immediately. You’re worse than a dog.”
Demian didn’t look at Marc, speaking instead to Ban:
“Sir Cronin, will you let my brother go?”
“……”
“Even if he’s useless, he’s still my brother. I have to look after him.”
Ban remained silent, glancing at Maurice. Maurice shook his head.
With Demian present, the timing had already passed.
Ban gripped Marc’s neck tightly, then released him, leaning slightly to warn, “Don’t forget, I can come for you anytime.”
Marc immediately tried to attack Ban after being released, but Demian grabbed his collar and slapped him across the face.
With a crack, Marc’s head snapped back.
“Behave, Marc. You’ve caused enough trouble with this stunt.”
“Tongue, Brother, I—”
“Maurice, is Ellie alright?”
Duke McClure’s gaze, and the glances from Ban and Edmund, were humiliating.
He felt like a dog, barking arrogantly, then silenced and kicked when the master arrived. The white-haired wizard tilted his head, twisting his mouth in amusement.
Your master isn’t you—it’s our Ellie who’s more important, it seems.
Why should I be treated like this?
The Emperor’s son, Demian’s kin, was himself.
Yet Demian trusted a lowly merchant more than him, fussing over a maid as if she were more important.
Marc panted heavily, humiliated by being slapped in front of people he had looked down on, but he could barely utter a word.
The education he received since childhood—fear and submission deeply ingrained.
Repeatedly learned terror gripped his body.
“We need to take her to a healer. Her arms, ankles, and shoulders seem injured.”
“Ah, I had work for Ellie tomorrow too. I’ll assign my healer to her.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem. I have high expectations for Ellie.”
“May we go to the healer now?”
“No, wait a moment, Marc.”
Demian called Marc, knowing how close he was to exploding.
Marc clenched his fists:
“Brother… why that maid…”
“Ellie is mine.”
“What?!”
Marc knew Demian’s whims. He was capricious but protective over what was his.
He hadn’t touched Maurice, despite dislike, to avoid upsetting Demian.
‘How did that maid capture my brother’s attention?’
Even knowing, Marc wouldn’t have touched her. Killing the princess destined to fail in the war was far easier.
“You don’t realize how much you’ve ruined. You just couldn’t stay still and spoiled all my plans.”
“I-I’m sorry…”
“Now we can’t even strike Rosso.”
“What?!”
“You blew it all with your own mouth. Nothing you do now will justify itself.”
Demian gestured irritably at Duke McClure. If only Maurice or the rookies were present, maybe. But silencing the Duke required too much—hardly worth it.
Moreover, his most treasured daughter had been assaulted.
Regardless of her identity, it was clear she wouldn’t obediently comply.
“You can sort that out after victory!”
“Exactly why you fail. If you’re dumb, stay quiet and practice ‘wait’ in your kennel.”
“Brother!”
“I said be quiet, Marc. Don’t make me repeat it.”
“……”
“Good, obedient.”
Demian gestured to the Duke:
“You come too. We have much to discuss—my engagement with my sister, and about that woman’s birth.”
“……Understood.”
Duke McClure lifted Irene in his arms.
Demian smiled brightly and led the way.
