* * *
“Huff… haah… huff…”
But Gordon was alive.
Pathetically crumpled, he only panted, heart pounding so hard it felt like it would burst.
For a moment, he’d truly believed he’d been shot.
As his trembling hand touched his chest, he realized his face felt warm.
Drip.
Something slid down his cheek.
Gordon wiped his face with the back of his hand—only to see blood staining it.
Sticky, red blood dripped down his fingers.
“Ah.”
Isaac let out a short sound.
Gordon, eyes wide, pushed himself up.
One side of his face was smeared comically with blood.
“A bird, it seems.”
His tone was utterly flat, voice dry.
Gordon darted his eyes toward the fallen creature.
A bird lay dead, shot clean through.
“What the hell is this…”
“Something jumped out.”
Isaac added matter-of-factly, “I thought it was a predator.”
With the tip of his tall boot, he nudged the dead bird.
The careless motion filled Gordon with humiliation—as though it wasn’t the bird, but his own body that had been kicked aside.
‘That bastard…!’
He still couldn’t shake the chill from when that gun barrel had been aimed at him.
Gordon clawed at the grass in frustration, tearing it up, releasing a faint green scent.
“Do get up now.”
Isaac’s gaze fell on Gordon.
Slowly blinking his long lashes, he added,
“Why are you trembling so? Someone might think I actually shot you.”
“Ha… ha… ha… You’re saying you didn’t want to?”
“I’m sorry you thought so. My bullets only aim for beasts.”
Isaac brushed his gun with one hand, his touch slow and unruffled.
“Though, I can’t promise I’ll never make a mistake.”
“A mistake?”
“I mean, I could end up shooting a person. There are so many humans who act like beasts, after all.”
The coachmen, after some hesitation, helped the Duke to his feet.
Gordon pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his face, the cloth quickly soaked in blood.
“Then you’d best be careful—not to kill someone innocent.”
His voice was rough with restrained fury and humiliation.
Even being knocked to the ground was shame enough.
“I’ll take that to heart as well.”
Isaac answered politely, with an easy composure, before walking leisurely toward the carriage with his gun.
The trained hunting dogs lowered their bodies to greet their master.
Gordon felt the sudden urge to put a bullet in Isaac’s back.
Meanwhile, Chester was mingling with several nobles.
Unlike Isaac, who had gone hunting alone, Chester enjoyed conversing with others.
His fresh, unflustered face—without a bead of sweat—was beautiful enough to make people look enchanted.
“It seems you’re not interested in hunting.”
Someone had approached Chester.
He was now seated in the shade, drinking water.
Looking up with the bottle still in hand, Chester soon rose to his feet.
“Ah, the second young master of Fetchwig. Come to think of it, we’ve never had a proper conversation, have we?”
His voice was warm, like spring air. The unexpected kindness made Bellick’s gaze waver.
‘I thought he’d be wary of me… Kindness toward the son of a political rival? This man is no simpleton.’
Even while deciding to keep his guard up, Bellick couldn’t help but feel a little pleased.
The politeness of the empire’s greatest hero was gratifying.
“Yes, well… things have been rather hectic.”
“You’ve worked hard. Hosting so many people must be quite the task—especially with His Majesty the Emperor here in person.”
“But why are you only here? You haven’t hunted at all, just talked to people.”
Bellick’s tone was polite, but carried a subtle edge of mockery.
“Well, I suppose deer hunting must seem dull to you. After all, you’re the one who hunted that infamous dragon. Our family forest must feel insignificant.”
“What a thing to say.”
Chester wasn’t flustered—he had already guessed the man had come to provoke him.
“Excess humility can be poisonous. To call such a beautiful forest dull… I was so busy admiring the scenery, I’ve neglected the hunt entirely.”
“Ah… so you were admiring the view? I must have interrupted.”
Chester smiled, then spoke in his characteristically gentle tone.
“I’ve heard much about you, young master. A man of remarkable business talent, they say.”
“…!”
Bellick stiffened.
Cold sweat trickled down his back.
Could Chester know about the drug trade he was secretly running?
Was he testing him?
His nerves tightened.
“Business? Whatever do you mean?”
“Hmm? Your reputation precedes you.”
“Reputation?”
Chester didn’t answer.
He simply looked at Bellick with a steady gaze, his violet eyes glinting.
The young master felt as though his very thoughts had been laid bare.
It was when breathing itself felt difficult from anxiety that Chester tilted his head with an innocent look.
“I mean the education project you’ve undertaken. I hear you founded a seminary for poor, young boys. Thanks to you, many have learned useful skills.”
“Ah!”
Realization dawned on Bellick.
The seminary was only a front for his drug business—its true purpose hidden in certain secret rooms.
‘He… doesn’t know?’
“It’s something worth praise. You’re called the guardian of those boys, and Fetchwig’s prestige has grown because of it. The Duke must be very proud.”
Bellick swallowed hard.
Thankfully, it seemed the compliment had been genuine.
Tension eased, replaced with a faint swell of pride.
Yes, the Duke of Carlisle was right.
Whatever the case, wasn’t he showing kindness to poor children?
It was a worthy cause, deserving of praise.
“Kindness? My father doesn’t even spare a glance for such things.”
“And why is that?”
“Well… it’s always my older brother he pays attention to. He wants to raise him into a proper heir. But, ha… my dear brother is lacking in many ways. He’s still far from being able to measure up to Father.”
“That’s only because His Grace is an exceptional man. Your father’s expectations are high, but your brother surely isn’t truly lacking.”
“Hmph, you clearly don’t know my brother. A few words with him and you’d see for yourself—his only real skill is flattery. All he’s good for is wagging his tongue.”
“Haha.”
Chester let out a laugh.
His face was still as gentle as ever, but inwardly he found it amusing.
The man didn’t even bother to hide his inferiority complex in front of his father’s political rival.
Nothing was easier than manipulating someone blinded by jealousy.
All it took was feeding that hunger for recognition.
“It’s a shame, truly. Just because one is the eldest son doesn’t mean they must inherit. And yet, so many cling to the old custom as if it were law. What truly matters to the head of a house is not birth order, but character and talent.”
Chester added, his tone meaningful:
“Someone like you, my lord.”
Bellick’s eyes widened.
He hadn’t expected such recognition—especially from Chester Carlisle.
This was the very man his own father gritted his teeth over, the man he’d most like to see destroyed.
And yet, that powerful man had just said he wanted to be friends.
* * *
The Charlisle Brothers keeps playing with other arrogant people. Truly deserving of them. And them here be looking extra majestic as ever.