Chapter 870

“It didn’t work out, did it?”

The villagers wiped their tears and looked up toward the manor. Though it was the height of the farming season, they had dressed neatly to pay their respects to their lord and lady.

The lord had been ill for a long time, so his passing wasn’t entirely unexpected. But the lady’s death was truly shocking—like a bolt from the blue.

“They say the lord hanged himself from grief over losing his wife. I understand the pain, but what about the young master? How is he supposed to live now?”

“Shh. Don’t say that.”

“Why not? What don’t I know?”

“It’s the funeral period, yet hardly anyone has come to pay their respects.”

“Now that you mention it…”

It was a tragedy that both lord and lady died on the same day. Though the manor was far from the capital, there should have been plenty of visitors by now—relatives, officials from the palace. Yet, surprisingly, hardly anyone showed up.

“Didn’t you hear? The butler died with the lady.”

“Some say the lady killed the lord, and the butler found out and tried to report it, but then things went sideways.”

“Come on, that can’t be true.”

“But think about it. The lady wasn’t exactly affectionate toward the lord, yet she took her own life. There must be something she was trying to hide.”

“That’s just baseless gossip. Better keep your mouth shut before you get yourself in trouble.”

“Isn’t the fact that no relatives have come to mourn proof enough?”

“Hey, I said stop it!”

“Whoa! Look, it’s the young master.”

The noisy group fell silent when they spotted Ian. Awkwardly, they placed their hands over their hearts in a gesture of mourning. Ian watched them expressionlessly before turning away.

Creak.

Inside the manor, white flowers were lavishly arranged beside the coffin. Ian glanced at Crony and his entourage, all dressed in black uniforms.

‘How did they know to bring black uniforms? As if they expected a funeral.’

Crony noticed Ian and beckoned him over, patting the seat beside him.

“Uncle, please sit.”

Hana, standing behind Ian, instinctively clutched her skirt tightly. The tragedy that had befallen their lord and lady was all Crony and his conspirators’ doing. Did they even understand how it felt to find Ian unconscious in the bedroom and drag him out? She wanted nothing more than to rush forward and strangle them—how could they, wearing the guise of humans, do such things?

But Ian obediently approached at Crony’s call. Surprised by his compliance, Crony smiled enigmatically.

“Uncle, I know this is hard, but you must pull yourself together.”

“Yes, Sir Crony.”

“Do you know why none of the relatives have come?”

Ian lifted his head slightly to meet Crony’s gaze. Of course he knew. They must have interfered—either not informing the relatives at all or, as the villagers whispered, slandering his mother so that the family refused to come.

In the worst case, they might have exerted control over the entire family. Whatever the truth, it was bad news for Ian.

“I don’t know. Maybe they have their reasons.”

Ian feigned ignorance, still holding onto his mother’s last words: survive, stay hidden until someone trustworthy can protect you.

Crony raised an eyebrow, and Ian added, “Otherwise, I don’t understand why they wouldn’t come.”

Crony and his group exchanged glances, trying to gauge how much the boy understood. Then Crony patted Ian’s shoulder lightly and smiled.

“Once the funeral is over, I’ll get in touch again. Though I’m familiar with the manor’s affairs, I’m still an outsider and lack experience with noble funerals. Please understand.”

“…No, I’m grateful you’re handling this for me. Thank you.”

Ian swallowed the surge of silent emotion and bowed slightly. No one else was left in the manor. With the butler dead, only the steward remained, but she was only skilled in cleaning and chores—not in noble funeral rites.

And a five-year-old couldn’t possibly oversee everything. So the entire funeral fell to Crony, Ian’s older nephew.

“Of course, Uncle. I will see this through to the end.”

Crony said kindly, taking the boy’s hand.

“So, I wanted to ask—how about you settle the manor and come live with me?”

“Huh?”

Ian’s eyes widened.

“Even though there are servants, I’m uneasy leaving you here alone without a guardian. It’s not practical.”

“Not practical, meaning—”

“There’s a lot to handle in the inheritance process. There will be interference from all sides. So why not come to the capital with me?”

Ian’s heart pounded.

Of course, Crony’s goal was to become his guardian. Living together was only natural. If Ian hadn’t known that Crony was behind his parents’ deaths, he might have welcomed a fresh start with him.

“…Ah.”

Crony stared intently into Ian’s eyes. This was a test—to see how much Ian knew, whether he was willing to obey, and if he was worth keeping alive or should be eliminated.

“Yes, I suppose that would be best. I’ll be in your care.”

Ian forced the words out, bowing his head to avoid Crony’s gaze.

Crony seemed satisfied, patting the back of Ian’s head and smiling warmly. The others exchanged pleased looks.

“By the way, Sir Crony, the priest has arrived.”

“Oh, right. I’ll be there shortly. Ian, wait a moment.”

Crony and his group left the room. Left alone, Ian clenched his trembling hands and curled inward. He had to stay alert—he couldn’t afford to show any weakness here. If he did, he’d end up dead, just like his parents.

Then, a hand rested gently on his shoulder.

“Ian.”

It was Philia. Dressed in black, she looked at him with concern and embraced him.

“Philia.”

“Are you alright?”

Without realizing it, Ian leaned into her, and she comforted him with gentle pats. Their closeness allowed them to speak in hushed tones.

“Hana told me everything. Ian, I’ll testify for you later. I’ll take responsibility for keeping the records about the lord’s health safe.”

“Thank you, Philia. And there’s one more thing I need.”

“Anything.”

“Please inform Count Jacques in the capital about my situation. Mother said he’s the only one she trusted.”

Jacques? Philia nodded.

“I’ll send a letter separately.”

“Thanks. I think I’ll be going to Crony’s manor. Please send news discreetly there.”

“To Crony’s manor?”

“…Yes. There’s no other way.”

No matter how much he thought about it, Ian had no means to escape Crony’s grasp on his own. He had to lie low until he grew stronger.

“No relatives came. That means Crony is the only one who can take me.”

“Ian, that can’t be. You should come with me instead.”

“With you, Philia?”

Ian asked in surprise. Philia looked at him resolutely.

“My home isn’t big, but it’s enough for the two of us. And Hana can come too, if you want.”

“But Philia, we just met. We’re not even family.”

“Still, it’s better than living with Crony.”

“That’s true.”

Ian smiled faintly, but it wasn’t realistic.

“If I go with you, Crony will try to kill you.”

“Ian…”

“Thank you. But hearing you say that gives me courage.”

The comfort of not being alone, the security of having a place to run to—those were exactly what Ian needed now.

Just as Philia tried to persuade him to reconsider, Crony’s voice called out.

“Uncle.”

Ian nodded and squeezed Philia’s hand.

“Thank you.”

But Philia, for your sake, I can’t run away.

Ian sensed that to escape Crony’s manor safely, he’d need power beyond reach. After all, Crony had killed the lord and lady—anyone else would be snapped like a twig.

“I will pray.”

The priest arrived, holding a holy book, and began the funeral prayer. A small ensemble played a mournful melody, and the few mourners bowed their heads in silent prayer.

Ian let his tears flow freely as he prayed for his parents.

“Mother, Father.”

Please protect me. And someday, help me take revenge. I will punish everyone involved in your deaths. Until then, please help me survive…

Boom.

Suddenly, a noise interrupted the solemn moment.

The mourners turned, puzzled, to see a plump man awkwardly rubbing his knees with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry. Ahem. I came in a bit hastily… Please, continue.”

“Who are you?”

The priest was about to resume his prayers, but Crony stepped in front of him. None of the relatives would show up at the funeral, and the estate’s residents were strictly forbidden from entering. Judging by his appearance, this man didn’t look like a reckless vagrant.

“Oh, I’m from the Imperial Palace.”

“…The Imperial Palace?”

“But aren’t you going to pray?”

Was verifying personal details really that important during a funeral? The man’s puzzled expression made Crony frown and glance back at the priest. Understanding the hint, the priest resumed his prayers.

Wuuuu—

“There is a small soul who lived a beautiful and honorable life. May the Lord have mercy on them…”

Sniffle! Sniffle! The newcomer’s sudden sniffles drew everyone’s attention—Ian’s, Crony’s, the others’, even the praying priest’s.

The funeral went on in a daze, and soon the priest and clergy gathered around the coffin to conclude the ceremony.

Thud.

Two firmly closed coffins. It was all over. Now, they just had to wait a bit before moving on to the burial.

As if waiting for this moment, Crony approached the stranger and greeted him. If he was from the Imperial Palace, was he a messenger from the Emperor? But the Emperor surely wouldn’t be involved in such a remote matter.

“I’m Crony Alphart.”

“Oh, yes, yes. Greetings. You’re with the Imperial Defense Department, right? I’m—”

The man pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it over.

“I’m Romandro, from the Magic Department.”

“The Magic Department?”

So he wasn’t an envoy from the Emperor. Why on earth was someone from the Magic Department here?

“Do you have business here?”

“Indeed. It’s very important.”

“Important?”

Clearing his throat, Romandro took out an official document and handed it to Crony.

“There’s a procedure where, if a noble child under ten loses their guardian, the Magic Department must verify whether they have magical abilities. That’s why I’m here.”

“What? There’s such a procedure?”

Crony repeated in disbelief, having never heard of it before. Testing for magical ability? That was news to him. And to do so on nobles? That was even more absurd. Historically, ‘noble-born mages’ were unheard of.

Romandro shrugged.

“News travels slowly in the provinces. Honestly, it’s rare. This is my first time carrying it out. Since the law was enacted, it’s only been done five times.”

“…Five times?”

“Yes. It’s uncommon for a noble child to lose their parents on the same day. This isn’t wartime, after all.”

Though said casually, Crony flinched as if struck in the gut. Romandro grinned and added,

“Annoying as it is, we have to follow orders.”

“……”

Crony kept rereading the official document stamped with the Magic Department’s seal, muttering to himself that something was going wrong. Of course, Ian wasn’t a mage, but unexpected complications were never welcome.

“Honestly, who came up with this law…”

Just as Crony grumbled, Romandro snatched the document from his hand.

“Oh, you want to know who? I know that well.”

It was the perfect chance to show off what he’d studied so hard last night.

“It was Emperor Jin Verosion who enacted it during his reign. It’s quite an old law.”