TSRTL 22⏳

Episode 22

Letting a Dantal into his house meant she could wander around the mansion acting as a spy. Even if not, people’s perception would hardly be favorable.

It could look as though he was pressuring Dantal by taking her child hostage.

Though unintended, Rodion finally found himself able to smile genuinely.
He was satisfied at least that he had managed to ruffle the Count’s mood a little.

A faint smile spread across Rodion’s lips.

“And what does that have to do with me? That’s your concern, not mine, Count.”

It was meant as a sharp jab, but the Count’s expression remained unchanged.

Abandoning the childish contest of wills, Rodion began to explain the real reason he had brought Dantal’s child.

“Valentina Dantal has subjugated the Flower Spirit. With a spirit, surely—”

Before he could even finish his words, the Count cut him off, as if he already understood what he was thinking.

“You went to the Academy to find a way to cure your brother, didn’t you?”

It was true. He had thought that if any place could hold a cure for Rev’s high fever caused by the spirit, it would be the Academy, where scholars of all kinds gathered.

But in the end, the only thing he gained there was a rumor—that in the southern Duchy of Dantal, there was a girl who could command the Flower Spirit.

If she existed, he reasoned, she could provide rare medicinal herbs that were otherwise only obtainable as cut flowers.

That was why Rodion had used the excuse of extending his stay at the Academy to instead slip away to the south.

A foreboding crept over him as he waited for the Count’s next words.

He should not have.

“Wasting your time cleaning up after someone who’s going to die anyway.”

The moment the Count spoke of Rev’s death, Rodion’s shadow surged. It twisted back against its natural flow, stretching out like a blade meant to pierce Shurka.

The shadow spirit was just about to strike when—

“Father.”

Rodion barely, just barely, managed to restrain his spirit, speaking in a low, heavy voice.

There was no longer even a forced smile on his lips.

“It is not only His Majesty’s enemies you should be wary of. Even in this mansion, there may be one or two who slip poison into your cup or press a knife against your throat.”

Shurka stared at Rodion’s shadow with a cold, indifferent gaze. To let his spirit seize control, swept away by mere emotions—

“Earn that capability first before you talk like that. Worthless boy.”

A deadly silence fell between father and son.

Anton, nearly crushed under the oppressive air, was silently whimpering inside.

‘There’s still someone else here, you know…’

He timidly raised his hand between the two, who seemed to have forgotten his existence entirely.

“M-Master, you must be tired from your trip to the south. Please, you should go and rest!”

“…Very well.”

Only then did Rodion’s shadow return to its place.

After one last sharp glare at the Count, Rodion left the study.

Thud. The door closed behind him.

Stepping into the corridor, Rodion caught sight of his reflection in the window and faltered.

His face was a wreck.

“Damn it.”

The empty hallway echoed with a curse, laced with both resignation and anger.

He covered his eyes with his hand.

Once again, he had let his emotions get the better of him.

Threats, insults, provocation, pleading—none of it would ever change that man. He knew it, and yet after all this time, he still had not learned.

Drawing a deep breath to steady himself, he repeated his familiar mantra:

“It’s fine.”

As long as Valentina’s spirit was here, Rev would be fine for now.

Besides, Tiya was in the house too.

He had to keep his wits about him.

He had to make sure his younger siblings did not cross paths with the Count and suffer needless wounds, and he had to make this desolate house a place they could bear to stay in.

That was something only Rodion could do, and must do.

Because he was their brother.

He must never show them a broken figure—they had to have someone to lean on.

“It’s fine. I can do this.”

This time, the words carried a new strength. And when he dropped his hand from his eyes, his face had returned to its usual gentle and kind expression.

He wanted to check on Rev’s condition, but first, there was another task.

“First, I should clean the house.”

For while he was away, a rat must surely have crept in.

* * *

On the day Rodion returned, Winter shared what she knew about the Dantals.

For ten years, the Empire had been gripped by a plague. Hatred of Northerners reached its peak.

The Imperial Family refused to lift the blockade, and when barbarians invaded the North, no one stepped forward to help.

All waited for the North to be torn to pieces, eager to scavenge the remains.

In that climate, only one house declared it would send military aid.

That was the great southern noble house of Dantal.

Listening gravely, Tiya’s face clouded with doubt.

“They said they’d help? Then aren’t they on our side?”

It’s not that simple.

Ten years later, when the current Emperor died and the Crown Prince ascended the throne, his power was far weaker than his predecessor’s.

The only solid support he had was his uncle, Marquis Montes, a foreign-born noble who had fled to the Empire.

To make up for his lacking power base, the new Emperor turned to the Dantal house.

Chosen by the Emperor, the Dantals rose to become the new Grand Dukes of the Empire, taking the place of the declining Vladizev family.

And thus, the Dantals became the Emperor’s most trusted blade.

Which meant, inevitably, that they were the enemies of Vladizev.

So, thinking of what would happen later, the Dantals are our enemies.

Tiya, beginning to grasp politics, asked cautiously:

“Then… does that mean Valentina might be a bad girl sent by the Dantal Duke?”

I told you, it’s not that simple.

“Winter… my head’s starting to hurt.”

For once, Winter did not scold Tiya for her slow understanding. Even she admitted the situation was too tangled.

The future Emperor and the Dantals would indeed press hard against the North.

But that glory lasted only two years.

A bastard son of the house appeared and struck down the Duke himself, seizing the title.

It was a blatant act of treason, yet none of Dantal’s vassal houses rose against him.

Not because of the sinister thorn-vines that shrouded the famed Rose Castle.
Not because of his merciless slaughter of the entire Dantal family.

But because the house’s sacred heirloom, the holy sword Rosabella, which had chosen every master of Dantal for generations, acknowledged the usurper as its new owner.

It was he who had contacted Winter, offering military aid.

Later, people would call him the Thorn King.

At the end of his letter, he had written:

[All I ask is the chance to repay the debt owed to your house. That is the last proposal I can make.]

A chance to repay a debt?

To Winter back then, it had made no sense.

Even if he did not share his predecessor’s loyalty to the Emperor, that alone was no reason to trust him.

Bringing in southern troops too hastily could bring even greater danger.

Winter had remained cautious to the last and ultimately rejected the Thorn King’s offer.

But now, standing before Valentina, who so easily bloomed a little flower pond, she thought again.

The ties of the past.

The unknown power that cloaked the Rose Castle in thorns.

The bastard son who appeared from nowhere.

Perhaps…

That girl could be the one who later becomes the Thorn King.