* * *
Zavad, who seemed ready to press further, turned back to the departing guards with his usual gentle expression.
Ranshel also waved to them.
Strangely, Doter barely looked at the guards, staring off into the distant sky instead.
‘Must be eager to return to the castle.’
It was only natural — Doter seemed to have a master he truly served.
Someone with such a loyal subordinate was probably kind to those beneath him.
Ranshel watched them leave, a bitter taste in his mouth.
High-ranking nobles typically owned several villas in Lima, the capital, and the Pomel family was no exception.
As they headed to the location they’d been given in advance, the steward managing the villa came out to greet them.
The moment they stepped inside, the aroma of delicious food wafted through the air — preparations for their meal, clearly.
“Please, make yourselves comfortable.”
“You must’ve gone through a lot to prepare on such short notice. We’ll be imposing for a little while.”
Zavad, as always, treated the steward with his characteristic gentleness.
The steward, meeting the second young master for the first time, looked at him with favor.
Thanks to how they handled Petro, rumors hadn’t spread from the castle to the capital.
The steward was able to look at Zavad without prejudice, and his first impression didn’t seem bad at all.
“The kitchen is preparing a special meal for you. Please wait here for a moment.”
The steward guided them to the parlor and left, closing the door behind him.
The fleeting peace was shattered by a cold, sharp voice.
“Explain, Hans.”
Zavad’s icy tone cut through the air.
“Give me a detailed report of everything that happened while I was away for the exams.”
Ranshel flinched.
He thought they’d moved past this, but apparently not.
“Yes, young master.”
Hans, unfazed, knelt before Zavad on one knee.
His expression calm, as if he had expected this all along, without a hint of hesitation.
“While I stepped away for a moment, Ranshel’s chair broke, and he rolled forward towards the carriage. It was an accident.”
“…The chair broke, you say.”
Zavad’s eyes shifted to Ranshel’s wheelchair.
“…So, the item the young lady lent you was defective.”
Ranshel’s chest tightened with anxiety.
He didn’t want to shift the blame onto Frey.
But neither could he reveal that Doter had targeted him, or that Danier had been tailing him.
If he spoke recklessly, Doter’s reputation could be ruined, and his ties with the Vershel family damaged.
“You left Ranshel in a faulty chair and carelessly stepped away?”
“…Yes, sir.”
“Because of your incompetence, my property was damaged.”
“That’s right. It’s entirely my fault.”
The calmer the exchange, the louder Ranshel’s heartbeat grew.
He couldn’t let Hans take the fall for all this.
Restless, Ranshel glanced at Petro, but the old man simply smiled, as if pleased by the scene — proud of the young master scolding his subordinate.
Frustrated, Ranshel shifted uncomfortably in his wheelchair, but the interrogation continued.
“Would you object to me punishing you?”
“No, sir.”
The moment Hans responded, Zavad raised his hand and struck him hard across the face.
“No…!”
Thud!
Startled, Ranshel tumbled out of the wheelchair.
The sound of Ranshel falling was even louder than the slap.
Both Hans and Zavad’s eyes shot toward him.
But Zavad didn’t move beyond taking a single step forward.
It was Hans who scrambled over on his knees to check on Ranshel.
“Ranshel, are you okay? What happened?”
‘What happened…?’
Ranshel looked up at Hans, still hearing the loud pounding of his heart.
A vivid red mark stained Hans’s cheek — Zavad had really hit him with full force.
‘Why is he hitting people like this…?’
The anger bubbled up, and Ranshel snapped.
“I told you, it was just an accident! No one’s at fault!”
“R-Ranshel?”
“I already said it was nothing! Why won’t you listen to me?!”
“Ranshel, you shouldn’t talk to the young master like that…”
Hans, flustered, tried to soothe him.
“It’s only right to discipline a servant who messed up. I was careless — it’s my fault.”
“No, I’m telling you it wasn’t your fault!”
“In this case, it was my fault. If I hadn’t looked away, it wouldn’t have happened.”
“That’s not what I mean!”
Ranshel thumped his chest with his fists, feeling like he’d lose his appetite before they even ate.
No one here had done anything wrong.
His injury was already treated — it was over.
What good would it do to hunt for culprits when the truth wasn’t even clear?
His hand got a little hurt — that was all.
More importantly, Hans had chosen to stay in the capital for his sick mother.
Zavad had leveraged that, using Hans’s need for medicine to keep him as a bodyguard.
There was no reason to treat someone so loyal like this.
At that moment, a chillingly soft voice filled the room.
“Everyone out — except Ranshel.”
“…….”
“Don’t stand by the door either. Stay away. Let no one approach.”
Petro opened the door and left first.
Hans scrambled to his feet and followed.
The door closed, silence fell.
Zavad didn’t even look at Ranshel, still sprawled on the floor.
His eyes were fixed somewhere in the room, fists clenched.
“…Didn’t I tell you? Even I have limits to my patience.”
With his jaw clenched tight, he muttered under his breath.
Ranshel’s chest burned at the fact that he wouldn’t even look at him anymore.
“You didn’t hold back, did you? You hit him! Why would you lay hands on Hans?”
“Because it was my responsibility. Instead of kicking out an incompetent, useless servant, I gave him a light punishment. He should be grateful. So why are you meddling for no reason?”
“Because the punishment didn’t match the mistake! That’s wrong. You can’t do that to Hans. Hans is—!”
Bang!
Zavad swung his clenched fist, and the wall he hit shook violently.
Ranshel flinched.
Isn’t he hitting way too hard? What if he hurts his hand…?
Ranshel glanced sideways at Zavad’s hand, but Zavad, patience worn thin, started yelling fiercely.
“Hans, Hans, enough already! How much longer are you going to yap about him? Shut up! Stop spouting nonsense. I’m the one who gets to decide what my servant did wrong, not someone like you!”
“But—!”
“Did you not hear me say shut up? I said I don’t want to hear it! Can’t you even understand that much? How much dumber are you planning to get?!”
“……”
Ranshel clamped his mouth shut.
His chest was already burning, but now his head was heating up too.
He didn’t want to see Zavad harshly punishing someone who didn’t deserve it.
That was all.
So why did he have to listen to this crap?
Didn’t he say he was fine, that it was no big deal?
Then why ignore him, keep glaring at him so coldly like that…?
The frustration was unbearable.
Ranshel, fuming, glared up at Zavad.
His green eyes, always unwillingly gentle, now glinted with icy sharpness that rivaled Zavad’s own fierce gaze.
Zavad frowned as he looked back at him.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“……”
“You were all smiles earlier. Why is it only when you look at me that…”
His words trailed off, eyes shifting away again. Ranshel frowned too.
What the hell was he even talking about?
* * *
