* * *
Helid licked his lips like he was genuinely looking forward to it.
Ashard didn’t want to imagine what kind of filthy thoughts were swirling in that man’s head.
And the fact that Eren was the subject of them made his blood boil.
He hated that such a vile name could even touch Eren’s.
He locked the door—and slammed his fist into Helid’s face.
The unexpected punch sent Helid flying from his chair and crashing into the wall.
“What the fuck?! Where did that come from?!”
Clutching his bruised face, Helid staggered.
Ashard quickly grabbed the handcuffs from the sofa and cuffed Helid’s arms behind his back.
“Let me out of these, you fucker!”
“You piece of trash. How dare you even say his name.”
Grinding his teeth, Ashard drove a hard kick into Helid’s stomach.
Still bound, Helid crumpled to the floor—face-down.
His restrained wrists were now fully exposed.
Ashard stepped on them.
CRACK.
The sound of breaking bones rang out, followed by a stream of curses and screams from Helid.
Worse yet, the cuffs were enchanted to tighten the more the wearer struggled—now constricting his already fractured wrists.
“AAAGH! YOU FUCKING—!”
“Shut up. I don’t want to hear your voice.”
Outside, Elyrion—having returned—stood silently, listening to the chaos inside.
He leaned gently against the door for a moment, then tapped the artifact twice.
“…Uncle, I gave you that artifact for a reason. You’re supposed to turn it on.”
“I can’t tell if I’m the one doing the watching or being watched.”
It had already been three hours since Elyrion, who dragged Carlyle here under the pretext of needing to visit the Imperial Palace, vanished without a word.
Forced to remain, unable to return to the estate, Carlyle clenched his teeth and muttered,
“Such a damn fussy brat to please.”
Carlyle, who always made an effort to maintain his noble demeanor, had changed completely after only a few days with Elyrion.
His usually composed face now betrayed clear irritation.
“You’ve been waiting patiently, huh?”
Elyrion smiled faintly, like he was looking at a well-trained dog.
“…Where exactly have you been?”
“Do I owe you an answer just because you asked?”
Carlyle stared at him with cold, humorless eyes, making Elyrion smirk.
Not even trying to hide his expression anymore, huh?
“You know Helid Yulta, right?”
“…”
“What a coincidence, really. I happened to catch him just as he was smashing Eren Nefendis’s ankle.”
At that, Carlyle’s eyes flashed sharply.
“You’re telling me someone laid a hand on him?”
Not even burning the estate down or destroying stacks of classified documents could get a reaction out of Carlyle.
But the moment Eren’s name was mentioned, his voice brimmed with rage.
Elyrion swept his gaze over him, clearly intrigued by the change.
“It was a clean break. In broad daylight. Inside the Imperial Palace, no less.”
Tossing the comment like bait, Elyrion closely observed Carlyle’s reaction.
Just as Melody had said—dropping Eren Nefendis’s name was all it would take.
“You knew those three didn’t come to Trovien out of sheer goodwill, right, Brother?”
“Then what’s their real goal? Those three bastards.”
“It wasn’t rebellion—not politically, at least. They had the power, but they still followed the Emperor of Epentel obediently. The reason is simple.”
“Which is?”
“Because of Count Eren Nefendis.”
“That kid from before…? So what about him?”
“They pushed for the union with Trovien precisely because the Count was here.”
“…Are you seriously saying they sold out their country for one person?”
“If the Count had stayed in Epentel instead of coming to Trovien, and if we hadn’t known his strategy—Trovien would’ve been utterly crushed in open war. He had already accounted for magical warfare and mapped out counterstrategies.”
“…”
“Thanks to the Count, Trovien wasn’t annihilated. I don’t care what thoughts drove him to follow Uncle. What matters is that because of him, the war stopped. Because of him, we didn’t pay the price in blood. That’s more than enough for me.”
“Melody, you…”
“I intend to support the Count with everything I have. I know you don’t trust him yet, Brother. So trust me instead.”
Her gaze said plainly that if he didn’t, she wouldn’t let things slide.
While Elyrion recalled his conversation with Melody, Carlyle stood trembling with fury, his eyes blazing.
“They dared to hurt Eren?”
He’d let them be, and this is what happened.
He’d warned them repeatedly to treat Eren gently.
But now Helid had gone too far.
A fury he could barely contain roiled inside him.
Bang—!
Carlyle’s clenched fist slammed down on the desk.
Cracks began to spread from the point of impact.
He should never have left Eren alone with Ashard.
If Eren had stayed by his side, he would’ve been safe.
He should’ve kept him close—by force, if necessary.
“If you still have business at the Palace, I’ll be stepping out. You’re probably watching me anyway, so I won’t bother asking permission.”
Before Elyrion could answer, Carlyle strode out.
Normally, Elyrion would’ve clicked his tongue in disapproval, but this time, his expression was one of delight.
“Well, I guess I didn’t even need to lift a finger.”
The bond between those three had always been tenuous—held together only by the existence of Eren.
A fragile connection that would collapse the moment one of them crossed the line.
Carlyle, Julius, and Helid—they were all obsessed with Eren Nefendis.
Elyrion had assumed it was just petty infatuation…
His gaze drifted to the desk, its surface cracking where Carlyle’s fist had struck.
This wasn’t mere interest.
“So it’s true… He actually means it. Things just got a lot more interesting.”
—
In the dark room, the clinking of metal echoed.
The cuffs, which had been tightening around his wrists due to the artifact’s lingering magic, finally began to loosen.
Helid managed to sit up against the wall and spat the blood pooling in his mouth onto the floor.
“Tch. Tied up and beaten by a damn man.”
He hadn’t held a noble title long, but Helid knew all too well how that world worked.
Pride was worth more than life.
Cowards hiding behind masks, obsessed with public image—that was nobility.
Carlyle and Julius were the same.
They killed without blinking, yet obsessed over their reputation as if it were some noble virtue.
But there was one exception.
Someone who didn’t—or couldn’t—hide his true feelings, regardless of who was in front of him.
That purity…
That’s what drew Helid to Eren.
He wanted him.
Wanted to possess that changing face beneath him.
“Shame. I was this close to having him.”
The twisted expressions from pain, the tears while begging him to stop—seeing Eren like that, even for a moment, had been enough.
He couldn’t get the image out of his head.
Helid glanced toward the couch where Eren had lain, a crooked grin forming.
The raw desire to take Eren still lingered on his face.
Even if it meant being beaten half to death, it felt like a fair price.
“Helid Yulta.”
“Fuck, who now? I thought you—”
Thud—!
The fist struck the exact same spot Ashard had hit before.
Helid’s body was violently lifted off the ground, and before he could react, he was face-to-face with Carlyle, eyes blazing with rage.
“Khhaha! Now that’s a face worth seeing! The great Carlyle Firentium, actually showing emotion for once!”
* * *
