Chapter 53

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: No Mercy 53

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Aden nodded slightly at Altas, who still wore a terrified expression.

"No new information?"

"I'll compile it and report by tomorrow morning."

Aden gave a curt nod before glaring at Altas and turning away.

Baran watched Aden quietly leave the room, then turned back to Altas.

He approached and grabbed the man's shoulder.

"What is this...?"

"Listen well, prisoner. Tomorrow, you'll leave here and board a transport carriage back to your family safe and sound. Congratulations—you'll shed the title of prisoner then. But you'd do well to remember something."

Baran leaned in close, bringing his lips to Altas's ear.

His slow words fell in the intimate distance where his breath felt provocatively stimulating.

"What kind of person you tried to touch and whose nerves you rattled. If you ever return here, starting from your fingernails, then your toes, muscles, bones, teeth, even your intact ears... You'll endure agony so horrific you'll wish for death, and it'll drag out memories of that forgotten fetus you've buried away."

"Wh-what...?"

"Do you understand? Nod if you do."

Altas nodded blankly, his soul seemingly fled.

Baran watched the motion steadily, then smiled calmly and stepped back.

He glanced down at the sword in his hand and smirked.

"Good to hear."

His face mild once more, Baran spun on his heel and left the room.

Altas stared at his retreating back until the door closed, then collapsed as strength drained from his body.

Too drained to react further, he stared blankly at the bed before slumping over in a faint.

Two days after the incident, they had managed to sort out the internal disarray to some extent.

They also discovered that contact had been lost with some of the dismissed servants, or that they had gone missing.

The number had reached ten.

It was the result of Bellieta openly deploying people to eliminate them.

While tracking the matter, they tried desperately to save them and catch any leads, but the targets slipped away from the Brilloxen grasp as if they knew exactly what was coming.

Only after two days passed without further disappearances or injuries could they finally lower their guard and wrap things up.

Kestian stayed at Brilloxen, handling his own duties while helping Sierra root out Bellieta's planted agents.

There weren't any major breakthroughs, but his assistance had truly been invaluable.

"Thank you for your help, Pallieva Young Lord."

Sierra approached Kestian as he boarded the carriage to return to Pallieva.

Spotting her approach, Kestian paused mid-step, descended, and smiled.

"No need. But we've only spoken a handful of times—why call me so formally still? Use my name, Sierra."

What did he mean by "casually"?

Did he just want "Young Lord" tacked on like everyone else, or did he mean her first name?

Gazing at his beaming smile, Aden suddenly came to mind.

Sierra tilted her head thoughtfully, then nodded.

"Alright, Kestian."

"Straight to the first name?"

"Pardon?"

"I figured you'd add 'Young Lord' at least. But straight to the name? Not bad. I like getting close without reservations."

Kestian grinned, nodding as he reached back to take a box from his knight and hand it to her.

Wondering what it was, she opened the lid to find a pair of small earrings inside.

A sudden gift?

She looked up slowly with a puzzled expression, and Kestian held out his palm.

She placed the box back, and he took out an earring.

"You called me by name, so I should do the same, right, Sierra?"

She nodded hesitantly at his gentle smile.

Kestian approached with the earring, gesturing to her ear as if asking permission to put it on himself.

Suddenly? she thought, but since he was her benefactor who had helped and saved her, she unfastened her current earrings without much fuss.

Kestian leaned in close, extending his arm toward her ear.

The faint rustle was vivid, and his fingertips brushing her ear felt intensely warm.

Moreover, with their faces so near, his breath blatantly grazed her skin.

Whispers rippled from the onlookers nearby, but Kestian ignored them, deftly attaching the earring before stepping back.

"Mana stones personally refined by a mage. They perfectly block incoming arrows for a set time."

"Isn't that an artifact?"

Artifacts—spells etched into mana stones—were exorbitantly priced.

The stones themselves were costly, but inscribing spells into such tiny ones was several times harder.

Flustered by the abrupt gift, she hurriedly tried to remove it, but Kestian calmly shook his head.

He dipped his head slightly to meet her eyes, inspecting her ear before lifting his gaze.

His vivid purple eyes shimmered.

"You're beautiful, intelligent, clever, and brave, Sierra—but sometimes that puts you in danger. Seeking my help was wise, but you won't always have someone reliable nearby. This is my gift for those times."

Kestian, who had looked her straight in the eye, smiled warmly and withdrew.

He tossed the empty box into the carriage and turned back to her.

"Did I mention? I like capable, trustworthy people. In that sense, you really catch my eye, Sierra. You're the first to use me so boldly."

"I'm sorry about th—"

"Not blaming you—I'm grateful."

Kestian laughed, offering an elegant bow with a graceful dip of his head.

"I'm thanking you for relying on me, Sierra."

"......"

"In that urgent moment, seeking me out means you find me trustworthy too."

Was that how it worked?

Thinking it over, it didn't sound wrong, so she nodded slowly.

With the sunset at his back, Kestian gazed at her steadily, then curved his lips into a smile.

"See you again, Sierra. May the spirits' whispers linger in your ear until then."

With that greeting befitting the Pallieva family—known as spirit descendants—Kestian boarded his carriage and departed slowly.

Sierra watched his carriage recede, then touched her ear, still frozen in place.

Her fingertips met the earrings' clear, cool sensation, and she pursed her lips.

"What an odd man."

He was different from Aden, yet oddly similar in certain ways.

She let out a soft breath and turned to approach Jin, who waited behind her.

"Let's head back."

"Shall we take all the remaining bodies too?"

"We have to return them to their families' arms. That's the only comfort we can give the survivors."

"Understood."

Sierra headed to her carriage with Jin following calmly behind.

The sunset pierced her back, casting long shadows.

She gazed at her shadow stretching across the ground, then lifted her head.

"Are shadows the only ones who die?"

Did she feel this strange kinship because she resembled them?

The bitter taste lingered as she sighed.

"Miss Sierra."

As she moved toward the carriage to return to the mansion, a voice called from behind.

Turning, she saw an errand boy from the mansion.

Tilting her head in confusion, he spoke calmly.

"The Count requests your presence."

"Father?"

"A letter has arrived from Bozbon."

Her face hardened the instant Bozbon was mentioned.

It had been like this before, but lately even more so.

Just hearing the Bozbon name made her teeth grind and anger surge.

Especially on a day like today.

"Tell him I'll come."

She replied curtly to the errand boy and shot Jin a look to head back.

Boarding the carriage, she leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes.

Rita's indelible image resurfaced, and she opened them again.

"You should have seen it too, Bellieta."

So you could know what you've done.

Chapter 06

"Hello."

A stiff voice mimicking adult etiquette in speech and gesture.

An arrogant expression clashing with her fairly cute appearance.

"I'm Bellieta, the eldest daughter of Bozbon."

Sierra's first impression of the girl was just another obnoxious duke's daughter—nothing special.

Nothing striking about her aside from looks, and their hobbies didn't align either.

This unannounced fiancée was a disaster for someone immersed in sword training.

An betrothed not even debuted in society yet.

With a personality and hobbies that repelled her entirely, the girl was superfluous.

"Aden, eldest son of Riplton."

An unwelcome meeting, but Bozbon—long allied with Riplton for mutual prosperity—couldn't be snubbed.

Besides, she'd be a constant presence through the two-year academy mandatory for all imperial nobles.

There, Bellieta monopolized adoration like a princess.

"...That brat... Ah, no. Is this the Riplton heir?"

"Really, Lady Bozbon? Is he truly...?"

But even those flies scattered silently upon hearing Riplton's infamy.

To the young children, Riplton's reputation was a living nightmare.

Tales of devouring people alive, drinking blood instead of water, horns sprouting from heads, and wings unfolding upon adulthood.

Rumors so wild some kids burst into tears at the sight of him.

In time, no one approached, and his days passed in quiet solitude.