“The Duke is still suffering under the curse, is he not? For the sake of His Grace’s well-being, and in recognition of Count Averitt Barmark’s efforts while His Grace was absent, isn’t it premature to make such a decision now?”
“I never took Baron Miol for such a magnanimous man. Asking us to consider the Count’s efforts? Anyone listening might think you serve him as your liege.”
“W-When did I ever say that?! Don’t twist my words!”
Mockery and accusations volleyed back and forth, and once the fire was lit, it showed no signs of dying. The already chaotic discussion took a turn for the worse when someone poured oil on the flames.
“I hesitate to bring this up, but ever since His Grace’s return, strange phenomena have been occurring in the estate. If those events are linked to the curse, won’t the chaos only worsen? Changing the leadership in such a climate would be disastrous in the long run, wouldn’t it?”
He must’ve been referring to the rumors circulating among the servants. A rebuttal shot out immediately.
“Are you not ashamed to drag baseless gossip from the lower ranks into a family council and speak of it as though it were fact?”
“He’s right. Even if those rumors were true, you’re clearly behind the times. That issue’s already been dealt with. From what I heard, the Spirit Beast His Grace brought with him personally stepped in.”
Before the fire even had a chance to settle, the conversation flared again—this time from the opposing side.
“Is there anyone here who doesn’t know that Count Averitt and the former Duke of House Laufe persistently abused the current Duke?”
It was a bombshell.
“Watch your tongue! How dare you present unverified claims as fact!”
“There’s a saying among commoners for this kind of denial—‘covering one’s eyes and pretending it’s not there.’ Hah, and you expect me to believe such a man opposes stripping the acting title purely out of goodwill?”
“You dare bring personal grudges into a family council? Have you lost your mind?!”
“…But it’s true, isn’t it?”
“What did you just say?”
The moment someone aired the past everyone had been pretending to forget, the room exploded with shouting and angry protests loud enough to hurt the ears.
It wasn’t a circus anymore—it was an absolute mess. It felt exactly like watching politicians from my old world.
Just as a pounding headache began to set in from the endless yelling, Justyn, who had been silently observing all this time, finally opened his mouth.
“Enough.”
“……!”
Only a single word echoed from behind the mask. Just one word.
But those who had been ready to unleash sharp retorts suddenly froze, not even daring to make a sound. The force of Justyn’s presence silenced them instantly.
It only lasted a moment, but the intangible pressure that clutched their throats was more than enough to show them what kind of power Justyn held.
Gone was the fish market chaos—replaced by a heavy silence that pressed down on all sides. The only sounds were the occasional gulps of dry swallowing.
This is insane.
Was he always this strong?
Is he even cursed anymore?
Some were stunned, others clicked their tongues in disbelief. Their reactions varied, but their thoughts were all the same.
Even weakened by a curse, a predator was still a predator. Justyn might’ve stayed quiet until now, but he was no pushover. In fact, if he chose to end his seclusion, he could easily reclaim the peak of power.
And right now, Justyn looked very much like a man with every intention of doing just that. Change was inevitable. The retainers’ eyes darted around, taking note of everything.
“Continue.”
“…….”
“…….”
But what was the use of being allowed to speak? Once crushed under that kind of pressure, few could muster the courage to open their mouths again. Everyone in the room was watching Justyn’s every move.
That’s when one hand slowly rose.
“Your Grace. May I ask a question?”
“Mmm.”
Justyn gave a slight nod. The retainer, having barely secured the right to speak, took a few deep breaths before finally managing to speak.
“Please forgive me for speaking out of turn with something that may seem disrespectful—I only do so out of concern for the House.”
“Go on.”
“…Now that Your Grace has returned, I believe it’s only right that all authority over the House be restored to you. However, I also understand the concerns of those who oppose this.”
Worry was written all over his face—perhaps for his own future—but still, the retainer didn’t stop talking.
“Your Grace is still suffering from the effects of the curse. If your health were to falter again and you had to step down once more, the House would be thrown into far greater turmoil than before.”
He took a breath and continued.
“So I must ask—have you recovered enough to return to the front lines and revoke the acting head’s authority without issue?”
Everyone held their breath, fixated.
In truth, the state of Justyn Laufe’s health was one of the most pivotal matters on the agenda today. That much even the Count agreed on. Though drenched in cold sweat from the overwhelming pressure Justyn exuded, he too waited for the answer.
Justyn opened his mouth slowly.
“I stopped the treatment.”
Not a yes or a no—just an ambiguous statement. The retainers’ expressions clouded with uncertainty.
Had his body deteriorated to the point where treatment was useless? Or had he recovered so fully that treatment was no longer necessary? They were caught in that in-between space, trying to figure it out.
Justyn offered them a helping hand to make up their minds.
“I intend to take back everything that should’ve rightfully been mine. Every last bit of it. You have my word.”
“…….”
“…….”
A warning, or perhaps a declaration of war. Either way, nothing could have expressed his resolve more clearly. Mouths snapped shut again in unison. And in that moment, a quiet realization dawned on them.
The Duke didn’t return to House Laufe just to give it all up.
The only flaw Justyn Laufe had was the curse. That aside? His capability rivaled that of the greatest family heads in their history. Hadn’t even the Crown Prince once sought his instruction in swordsmanship?
There wasn’t a soul in this room who didn’t know that. Naturally, the discussion stalled as everyone began to nervously gauge each other.
Justyn made the next move.
“I no longer see the need for the acting head. Does anyone oppose?”
A few twitched at the corners of their eyes. The momentum had shifted, but they couldn’t let things end like this. Some had colluded in advance and were about to raise a united voice in dissent, when—
“Surely not, wouldn’t you say? No retainer would dare oppose the Duke’s return or recovery. I, of course, am in full agreement.”
Once again, someone had beaten them to the punch.
“B-Baron Embio, why are you…?”
“Hm? Did I say something wrong?”
It was none other than Baron Paulen Embio.
Those who’d planned to object exchanged panicked glances. Never mind that Baron Embio held significant sway—some among them were even entangled in financial debts to him.
“Are you opposing, then?”
“……No, Your Grace is correct.”
“Ahem. I feel the same.”
And one by one, they began to surrender. In the end, Count Averitt Barmark stood alone, awkward and exposed like a duck on dry land.
“Then let us proceed with a vote.”
The result was unanimous. Every retainer present voted in favor of revoking the acting head’s position. The Count ground his teeth in frustration.
His mind scrambled to recover from the whirlwind. There were two things he hadn’t anticipated—Justyn’s recovery, and Baron Embio’s betrayal.
With both misfortunes colliding, resisting any further might only deepen the backlash and lead to him being expelled outright. Hastily rearranging his expression, he forced out a placid voice.
“I agree as well. However, there are still affairs I’m managing. Let me assist you until I can hand things over properly. Perhaps this will also give us a chance to clear up the misunderstandings between us.”
“……”
“You wouldn’t reject even this, would you? If you do, I’ll be left humiliated.”
Justyn said nothing. Only his chilling red eyes rolled slowly in the Count’s direction, pinning him in place.
Averitt froze, unable to protest. He felt like a helpless mouse before a starving cat. All he could do was swallow hard as Justyn spoke in an indifferent tone.
“Again.”
“…What?”
“Say it again.”
Averitt blinked dumbly for a moment, but the meaning soon slammed into his skull like a hammer. His face flushed crimson with humiliation.
“I said—repeat it.”
“…What are you playing at? You’re mocking me, in front of everyone? This is no different than an insult—!”
“I recall hearing something earlier.”
Justyn’s voice, completely devoid of emotion, cut through the Count’s outburst like a blade. He didn’t even look at him as if he were something discarded by the roadside. The sheer gulf between them—undeniable to any living being—clamped down on Averitt like iron shackles.
Justyn’s gaze swept the room.
“Someone here said it sounded like the Baron served the Count as his liege rather than me. Tell me, Uncle—do you share that sentiment?”
“……”
Only then did the Count understand what Justyn was doing. Know your place. That was the message.
Gritting his teeth, he barely managed to pull his words together.
“…I trust you know I didn’t mean it like that. Still… was it really necessary to disgrace me this way?”
“Maintaining decorum—that is the best courtesy I can extend to you, as a member of this family.”
That was the end of it.
Devastated, the Count stormed out of the chamber, unable to contain his rage. The loud slam of the door unsettled the entire room.
Ketir Ribote, who had been silently standing by, quickly stepped forward to bring order back.
“The meeting is adjourned. The matters discussed and decisions made today will be compiled and delivered to you by tonight, so please feel free to rest.”
At those words, those who had longed for a reprieve didn’t wait a second longer to exit the chamber.
Some tried to approach Justyn—perhaps hoping to score some favor—but most backed off the moment they faced him directly.
Except for one person.
The one who, next to Justyn himself, had made the most impact during today’s council.
“Baron Embio. Do you have business with me?”
Justyn’s red eyes curved into a crescent moon, glinting with intrigue.
