* * *
The horses pulling his carriage thundered across the flat ground, while hunting hounds raced alongside, barking sharply.
‘The eldest is incompetent in every way. And the second? No better—just obsessed with making money. He’s thrown away any shred of noble dignity.’
Gordon rested his rifle on his shoulder, his eyes glinting sharply like an eagle’s.
‘If only they had even half the ability of the Carlisle brothers. If only they were my sons… Well, their behavior is odd enough, what with being co–heads of their house and talking about bringing in an omega to bear an heir.’
Bang!
A deafening gunshot rang out, and the coachmen cheered.
They called out to the duke standing behind them.
“You hit it, Your Grace! A perfect shot!”
The carriage halted, and Gordon stepped down himself.
Sure enough, a deer lay dead from his shot.
But the joy of the catch was fleeting—his wrinkled face soon twisted in displeasure.
“It’s half-grown. Not much to look at either.”
The coachmen, inspecting the deer, hesitated at his words.
No one dared contradict him, which only soured his mood further.
Then came the sound of carriage wheels from somewhere nearby—accompanied by hooves and the barking of hounds.
Someone was approaching.
Gordon relaxed his expression, intending to greet them with the composure befitting the event’s host.
“…!”
But his resolve shattered within seconds.
The moment he saw who was on the carriage, the furrow between his brows deepened.
Inwardly, he muttered through clenched thoughts:
‘Isaac Carlisle…!’
In the ornate carriage, Isaac sat alone.
He handled the reins with skill and precision, surrounded by horses and hounds.
Spotting Gordon standing in the clearing, Isaac brought the carriage to a stop.
“…”
Isaac’s eyes narrowed, studying Gordon’s wolfish smile.
With honey-gold hair, crimson eyes, and an exceptional build, Isaac looked like a god carved from a Renaissance masterpiece.
“Why stare so intently?”
Gordon belatedly masked his hostility and spoke.
Isaac stepped down from the carriage and stood before him, a long black rifle slung over his shoulder.
The sight of Isaac armed irked Gordon, though he kept it from his face.
‘I’ve got a rifle too. And he’s alone. No reason to be intimidated. Surely that pup wouldn’t dare shoot me?’
The corner of Gordon’s mouth twitched.
As if he could shoot—there were plenty of coachmen watching.
If anything, the greater danger lay in Gordon shooting him and leaving the scene, passing it off as an accident.
The thought tempted him briefly, but he dismissed it—too risky a gamble.
So instead, he opted for a genial welcome.
“I finally bagged a deer. Age is catching up with me, I suppose—took me until now to get even one.”
“On the contrary, Your Grace.”
Isaac’s voice was calm as his gaze rested on the deer.
“To get even one by this time of day is impressive. Most young men haven’t even spotted one yet. Your hunting skill is as fine as ever.”
“Kind of you to say so. Well, it’s true—my skills are something I’ve honed since I was a boy.”
Blood leaked from the deer, pooling dark and ominous on the grass.
“I learned early the pleasure of the hunt—the thrill of firing into the neck of something unsuspecting. I love the moment the life leaves those beautiful eyes, when its glossy coat tangles with blood.”
“I understand exactly what you mean.”
“You do?”
“Yes. I can even agree with it, to an extent. Especially the joy of killing the unguarded. I know well the kind of ecstasy it brings.”
Gordon’s smile thinned.
Just then, the wind cut between them, and Isaac lifted his gaze to the sky where flocks of birds crossed overhead.
“Plenty of birds today.”
“Your father… it’s a pity he couldn’t live to see you grown like this. It would’ve been good if he’d lived long enough to watch his son’s rise.”
“I don’t think he’d have been all that regretful. He knew, you see—what sort of man I would become.”
Isaac’s gaze shifted back from the sky to Gordon.
“So even if he had lived to witness it, I doubt he’d have been surprised.”
Arrogant brat. Gordon clicked his tongue inwardly—but there was a twinge of envy, directed at the late Duke and Duchess Carlisle.
How had they managed to produce not one, but two such creatures?
“Listen, Duke Carlisle.”
“…”
“Don’t make an enemy of this old hunter. There’s no need for you to become my prey.”
“…”
“You two… you stand out too much. I know—better than anyone—that you’ve brought unprecedented glory to this nation. I even revere you for it. But there’s a problem. You don’t want to remain as young heroes—you keep trying to become powerbrokers.”
“Powerbrokers, you say.”
“Yes. You enjoy His Majesty’s favor, yet you build gardens to rival the imperial ones, rally countless followers… It could be seen as a challenge to the throne. When one has power, one ought to live with greater humility than anyone.”
Isaac exhaled softly—a sound devoid of mirth. Gordon’s eyes tightened at the insolence.
‘Is he mocking me? To my face?’
“I’ll keep your words in mind,” Isaac said, straightening his back.
Power radiated from his young, handsome face.
“Especially since they come from you, Your Grace. I’m sure you’ve endured countless trials to reach your position.”
“What?”
“The Fetchwig family has risen higher and wealthier than ever—and you made it happen. You gave your entire house a life of splendor, and elevated a family of uncertain standing into one of dignity.”
Isaac did not add: ‘Using trickery and underhanded means, and raising children who’ve inherited your ruthless ways. His Majesty’s patience with your ever-growing family is wearing thin.’
Gordon’s expression was already twisted as if struck, so instead Isaac wore the look of a man wondering what the problem was.
“Advice from someone as exceptional as you… of course I should take it to heart.”
“Isaac Carlisle, you’re quite arrogant.”
“I merely wished to praise you. If it came across as rude, I apologize. Then, I’ll take my leave.”
Isaac turned around. When his broad back came into view, Gordon let out a snicker and made a mocking remark.
“Do take care while hunting. What if you fall off the carriage? Hurt your back—that would be terrible. After all, you’re soon to be a father, aren’t you?”
Isaac stopped in his tracks. Gordon nodded toward the man who had frozen still.
“Ah, perhaps I worried for nothing? Your younger brother is also a candidate, after all. He could be the one rolling around with an omega instead—until the child is born.”
No sooner had he finished speaking than Gordon’s shoulders flinched. Isaac had turned, gun in hand.
Shockingly, the barrel was aimed directly at Gordon.
“…!”
Gordon’s face drained of all color.
He could have just drawn his own gun, but his hands wouldn’t move from sheer panic.
‘What—what is this…? This arrogant bastard! Is he truly going to shoot me?’
No way.
Surely it was just a threat.
Gordon forced a laugh.
“Upset, are we? Even so, to dare point a gun at me—”
Bang!
The loud gunshot echoed through the forest.
The startled coachmen clapped their hands over their ears and crouched.
Those who didn’t understand what had just happened inhaled sharply.
“Gasp!”
“D-Duke!”
Gordon was sprawled on the grass, curled up like a pill bug, frozen stiff as if dead.
The coachmen’s faces filled with horror.
Surely he wasn’t actually dead?
* * *
