TRFS 5

Chapter : 5

What exactly are you asking me to think?

Eanok didn’t need to answer. He was the one who asked questions, not the one who answered them.

He knew that perfectly well, and yet, strangely, Cleora’s question felt like something he had to answer.

Eanok watched a few knights—who had been paying attention to him—slowly stand and drag themselves into the training grounds, before shifting his gaze sideways.

“A mess.”

At the end of that gaze, Cleora gave a short nod, then looked back at him.

“Can we speak alone for a moment?”

“Whether I speak or not is at my discretion. So say it here.”

“It’s important.”

“That, too, is for me to decide.”

Cleora twitched a brow at his response.

Was this what people meant by times have changed? How dare a mere collateral branch stand in front of her so stiff-necked?

Even if seventy years had passed, to Cleora it had only been five days.

The world had changed so drastically in that short span that it was impossible for her to take in quietly.

Holding down the agitation boiling inside her, Cleora forced her voice to stay calm.

“Fine, I’ll say it here.”

“Say it here.”

“You won’t regret it?”

“There’s nothing to regret.”

Eanok twisted his lips into a crooked smile. Cleora, reading his meaning, nodded and turned slightly.

“Kick all of them out.”

She pointed at the sluggish knights.

At her ceaselessly bold remarks, Adrian’s jaw dropped soundlessly—and then he foamed at the mouth and fainted.

Cleora didn’t even spare him a look.

“Keeping useless things like that and calling them knights—what’s the point? Street beggars have more life in their eyes than they do.”

“……”

“Training them will just waste grain that should be saved. From what I see, you need every penny you can scrape together.”

Cleora tapped the ground lightly with her heel. She hadn’t put much strength into it, and yet the ground cracked and sand sprayed up.

“Instead of feeding them, use that money to water this place. What is this? A training yard? It’s a wasteland.”

Her voice stabbed sharply into Eanok’s ears.

Everyone who had backed away was staring at him with dread.

Eanok’s temper had cooled over the past decade, but ten years ago he’d been like a pot of oil already brought to boil—one drop of water and he’d explode.

Because of that, almost no one had ever dared to openly insult him to his face. Getting involved with him only led to headaches.

But now, this girl—who looked barely grown—was breaking that unwritten rule. And brazenly at that.

Shouldn’t we stop her?

You do it.

I don’t want to die.

Then will you at least clean up the corpse?

Absolutely not!

Unlike the anxious crowd, Eanok’s gaze remained steady.

He was neither angry nor roused. He looked at Cleora as though she were some fascinating creature.

After a moment of silent thought, he slowly spoke.

“Do you understand just how rude your words were?”

“Is there anyone who wouldn’t?”

“And yet you said them….”

Dragging out the end of his sentence, Eanok—rarely—smiled.

“Long ago, there were a few who spoke the way you do. Without exception, they left with a bone or two broken.”

“Is that so?”

“But you seem even more lacking than they were. Your standing appears even lower.”

Eanok stared idly as Cleora shrugged, then slowly narrowed his brow.

“Let me ask you one thing. Depending on your answer, I’ll decide whether to break a leg, snap an arm, or simply take your head.”

So either way, something was getting broken.

The calm expression masked a faintly simmering fury that now spilled toward Cleora like raw killing intent.

With eyes like the depths of a dark, poisonous green, Eanok exhaled.

“Who are you?”

A plain question. Not even a difficult one.

Cleora met the green eyes looking straight at her, raised her chin unbothered, and answered.

“Cleora.”

“……”

“I am Cleora Bern—the last master of this house.”

“Don’t cause trouble. Sit quietly.”

Bang!

The door slammed shut.

Cleora, staring dumbfounded at the door inside the room she’d been thrown into, scowled deeply.

“No, seriously—are you people insane? I’m telling the truth!”

She pounded on the door, shouting angrily, but nothing changed.

Dropping to the floor, she ground her teeth.

Honestly. To think she’d be locked up at her age.

“Damn it!”

Her scream filled the room.

Back in his office, Eanok let out a small sigh and took off his coat.

Reginald, who had followed him in, eyed his master anxiously.

Given the confrontation he’d just had with that bizarre girl, Reginald wouldn’t have been surprised if Eanok exploded any moment.

Licking his lips nervously, he approached.

“Sir. If it’s about the girl, leave her to me. I’ll see that she’s punished appropriately and expelled at once. So—”

“What do you think?”

“Sir?”

Startled by the sudden question, the butler instinctively echoed it back. He opened his mouth to say something, but Eanok spoke first.

“About what she said.”

“Ah… well…”

Reginald hesitated, frowning awkwardly.

‘The first head of the Eisenbold house was bald. He always wore a wig—you wouldn’t know otherwise. Only family members know that. It’s a secret among secrets.’

‘Ninety years ago, the first emperor gifted a porcelain vase to Eisenbold. I broke it. I was playing around.’

‘There’s a café under the main estate. It’s picturesque, not a torture chamber or dungeon like you’d imagine. The actual torture rooms and prison are at the very top of the tower.’

‘Still don’t believe me? Fine. There’s a secret vault in this house. It’s sealed with magic so only direct bloodline members can open it. Very few people know that.’

‘Ugh, fine—this one. After my mother Aria Eisenbold’s funeral, Cleora disappeared for a week. People thought she died, or killed herself. But she came back. I was here then. Alone in this castle, grieving. Is that enough?’

The golden-haired girl claiming to be Cleora had thrown out every kind of supposed proof.

They sounded like family secrets, but in truth, they weren’t.

Long ago, yes—but once the family splintered, everything leaked.

“…None of that is worth concern. Not everyone knows those things, sure, but anyone who wants to could learn them. Even the vault. We’ve heard rumors that someone intends to crack it since we’re searching for a blonde, red-eyed girl.”

“Is that so.”

“She likely spouted those details to sell her claim. Frankly, it only makes her more suspicious. Didn’t it feel like she was reciting a memorized list? That’s what bothered me the most.”

Unlike Reginald, Eanok looked unusually serious.

As though angry—and yet troubled by thought at the same time.

Seeing this, Reginald bowed cautiously.

“Sir… you don’t mean to say you believe her?”

“How could I?”

“Then…”

“But.”

Eanok cut him off, resting his chin on the back of his hand, brow furrowing deeper.

“Have you ever heard that part before?”

“Sir? Which part?”

“What Cleora did during that missing week.”

“Oh, that….”

The butler stopped mid-sentence. He had never heard anything of the sort.

As Reginald fell silent, Eanok let out a quiet, knowing laugh.

The weak exhale made Reginald rush to speak again.

“B-but it still can’t be trusted. The fact no one heard means no one can confirm it. She could claim anything!”

“And if it could be confirmed?”

“That’s impossible—”

Reginald cut himself off.

Because Eanok was smiling.

A faint, unsettling smile.

Reginald slowly opened his mouth.