The Count fell silent, brows knitting in clear irritation at Ketir’s unbothered, sharp-tongued responses.
But the flare of emotion didn’t last. Like a man with a different agenda, his slick gaze quickly returned to Ries.
“Well, that was more violent than expected, but considering who his master is, I suppose I can let it slide. I’ll need to have a serious chat with my dear nephew. It’s high time he got some proper training—something worthy of our family name, don’t you think?”
“Count.”
That’s when Ketir’s composed expression finally cracked. Averitt offered a lazy smirk and bowed, extending a hand—confident, arrogant, like he fully expected it to be taken.
“No matter how mystical they are, a Spirit Beast is still a beast. Tame them right and they wouldn’t dare bite the hand that feeds them. With the vassals’ meeting coming up, I’ll be formally proposing this matter and personally overseeing the training of—AHH!”
He didn’t even finish his sentence.
Ries sprang forward and swiped his paw without hesitation. Claws extended, he slashed clean across the back of the Count’s hand, leaving behind three precise, bloody lines.
Ketir watched, then let out a breath that was halfway between a sigh and a scoff.
“Before you got so close, you really should’ve done your homework. Ries is incredibly intelligent. He can tell when someone speaks ill of him, almost like a sixth sense. So,”
He tilted his head, a satisfied grin tugging at his lips.
“—you’ve well and truly earned his hate.”
***
Ugh.
Ries flicked the paw he’d used to strike Averitt, then unsheathed his claws and dragged them against the floor. Just the thought of that man’s blood clinging to him made his skin crawl.
Still, seeing those beads of blood dripping from the Count’s hand? It was oddly satisfying.
Averitt pressed down on his bleeding hand, trying to stop the flow as he forced a smile. But his twitching lips and quivering brow gave him away—it was clearly fake.
“Count, are you all right? You’re bleeding…”
“Haha… I’m fine. He’s clever—much more than I expected. I must’ve forgotten just how fiery this one is.”
He was trying his best to act benevolent, but… those eyes. Unlike Justyn’s, his red irises churned with smoldering anger and unquenched greed.
Ries averted his gaze and slipped behind Ketir’s legs for cover. Somewhere nearby, the sound of teeth grinding echoed in the air.
“I’ve got things to do, so I’ll be going. Let my nephew know I’ll be visiting soon.”
“Of course. I’ll make sure to report everything we discussed… and your unfortunate incident today, down to the last detail. So no need to worry.”
“…Fine.”
Ketir’s eyes lingered on the Count’s injured hand—so openly critical it could’ve been a slap to the face.
Averitt’s eyes narrowed at the insult, but that was as far as his pride would take him. He turned and beat a hasty retreat. The ruckus in the middle of the hallway was drawing more and more attention.
Pfft.
By the time the Count’s bulky, sweat-covered form disappeared completely, Melissa let out a snort of laughter. Ketir turned to her, mildly surprised.
“You seem to be enjoying yourself.”
“Obviously. That was a show. Watching the Count run for it like that? My friends who’ve suffered under him would pay good money to see that again.”
She bent down and pulled out a handkerchief. Catching her intention, Ries lifted his paw obligingly.
Ketir asked, almost offhandedly, “You’ve got a lot of friends like that?”
“Yeah, kind of… He’s not exactly known for treating people below him with kindness.”
Melissa gently wiped away the faint smudge of blood from his claws. Ries could feel her fingers subtly fondling his paw pads, probably out of pure indulgence—but since she meant well, he let it slide.
What caught his attention more was what she’d said about the Count.
“Like what, exactly?”
“Well… He’s moody, his temper swings like a pendulum, yells a lot, always seems angry… Oh, and one of my friends said she got hit once.”
What a horrible boss. Then again, it was easy to believe. The man practically oozed bad vibes. Ries pulled his paw away with quiet disdain. Melissa looked openly disappointed.
“That’s why I’m really glad His Grace is back. He might be a little scary, but at least he doesn’t treat us like dirt… Wait. Or does he?”
She tilted her head, clearly remembering the time she got tossed around like a paper doll during “training.”
Ketir seemed to recall the same moment. With a troubled look, he rubbed his brow and muttered like he’d already given up.
“Well… please try to understand. When it comes to anything involving Ries, His Grace tends to get a little… intense.”
“Oh, I understand completely. If I had a cute cat like Lord Ries, I’d never let him out of my arms. I’d pamper him like a prince.”
Ries listened to their conversation with mild disinterest. At least Justyn wasn’t the type of obsessive master who couldn’t stand to be away from him—that was a relief.
He pushed aside the idle thoughts drifting through his mind and turned his gaze toward the direction the Count had disappeared.
Why had he attacked the Count again?
Yeah, the guy was seriously annoying.
All that nonsense about training, taming, calling him a beast—every word had been calculated to irritate him. And yet, the Count had the nerve to act like everything was going according to some grand plan. It was almost impressive how delusional he was.
Still, that wasn’t the only reason.
He hadn’t noticed it at first, but once he focused, he saw it again—shards of a curse, faint and flickering, hovering over the Count’s body.
From that moment on, he’d been waiting for the right moment to strike. And when the Count started spewing more offensive garbage, Ries pounced on the opportunity without hesitation.
Serves him right.
Those scratches on the man’s hand? Absolutely satisfying. He’d never been so proud of his claws.
And from that little incident, Ries walked away with two valuable insights.
First—the curse fragments had a much wider range than expected. Justyn hadn’t left his office, and yet the Count, who’d come from quite a distance, was already carrying those fragments on him. If the Count kept wandering around the estate like this, it might be possible to fully lift the curse.
And the second?
Unlimited curse refills. That’s just insane.
He’d found himself a walking, talking curse fragment dispenser. A slow, wicked grin crept across Ries’ face—sharp and anything but catlike.
***
At that point, Ries genuinely believed his first stroll around the estate would end in triumph.
“….”
Right up until something completely unexpected crossed his path.
The moment it appeared, his body froze and his mind went blank.
A long, flowing dress. Hair cascading down like silk. A half-transparent blue figure.
It was, without a doubt—a ghost.
Wait… wasn’t this place supposed to be a ghost-free zone?
He’d come down here with Sefiut, so he’d assumed the area was clear. That assumption shattered in the worst way possible, leaving him thoroughly rattled.
The second he realized what he was seeing, Ries bolted. He didn’t even hesitate. Forget the steward—the entire reason for this walk—he ran straight back to Justyn’s office.
And the moment he reached safety, he launched himself into Justyn’s arms like lightning. The man flinched at the impact but slowly began to stroke his back.
“…What’s going on with Ries?”
“Ah. He ran into the Count during his walk. The man had the usual filth to spew, so it’s only natural that Ries is upset.”
“Details.”
Justyn’s expression wavered briefly, but as expected of a capable aide, Ketir quickly collected himself and offered a full, detailed account of what had happened—more than enough to satisfy his master.
And just like that, a dark, cold light flickered in Justyn’s lowered eyes.
“…So that’s what he said.”
Ketir instinctively held his breath. He’d expected his master to be upset, but this—this was another level. He’d never seen Justyn look so cold, so quietly seething. The chill that settled into the room wasn’t just in his imagination.
And Melissa—who had accidentally followed them into the room—
T-Terrifying…
She had to muster every ounce of self-control just to keep herself from collapsing on the spot. It felt like sharp, invisible needles of bloodlust were pricking her skin all over.
Gulp. She swallowed hard—and then flinched at the sound, startled by her own nerves.
