Episode 57
The elderly butler’s face went pale as he looked at the banner.
A crimson serpent writhed against a black circle—
the insignia of the Barhad chieftain’s personal guard.
And more than that.
Edwin Blurst, the man widely believed to be the chieftain’s right-hand, had arrived in person.
With soldiers at his back.
“W-what brings you to this estate, sir…?”
“Enough.”
The master of the house pushed his butler aside and stepped forward himself.
It was Zaveni Kusley, his brows furrowed in irritation, his quiet afternoon shattered.
His sharp gaze fixed on the unwelcome visitor.
Edwin Blurst.
The man who obeyed Kaisa’s every order without question, who made no secret of being his “dog.”
“Who taught you to storm into another man’s home with your boots still on?”
Such words, hurled at a man of Edwin’s stature—not only the chieftain’s confidant, but a public figure in his own right—were brazen, bordering on suicidal.
But Elder Zaveni cared little.
“A gutter rat, a beggar… a slave who shouldn’t have ever set foot in the palace. Why show courtesy to such filth?”
Normally, when faced with the elder’s insults, Edwin would simply let them slide, brushing them aside with an easy smile.
Not today.
“How rude, Lord Kusley.”
Edwin’s voice was cold as he unfolded the letter in his hand.
“I’m here under the chieftain’s direct orders.”
Zaveni’s expression hardened.
“Our intelligence officers have uncovered illegal foreign assets you’ve hidden away. In siphoning those funds, you committed tax evasion and embezzlement of state coffers.”
“…What?”
“The chieftain has judged you a flight risk and has therefore issued a warrant for your arrest.”
At Edwin’s curt nod, the disciplined soldiers surged forward.
“Master!”
The butler and gathered servants shrieked in alarm.
“Unhand me!”
Zaveni’s body was strong for his age, but strength mattered little against a squad of trained soldiers. They forced him down.
“In my own house—my own domain—treated like this?!”
Grinding his teeth, he shot Edwin a venomous glare.
“A worm groveling in the mud, pretending to be something more—it’s laughable.”
“Is that so?”
For once, Edwin allowed a mocking smile to curl his lips.
“All my life, I’ve endured the barbs of elders obsessed with bloodlines. And yet—”
he leaned closer—
“—isn’t it you who’s groveling in the dirt now, Lord Zaveni?”
Pinned to the floor, his arms wrenched behind his back, Zaveni’s eyes bulged with fury. Bile rose in his throat at the indignity.
But no—his empire would not collapse over mere tax charges.
“So long as she falls into the trap I laid at the hunting tournament…”
His eyes flicked, almost unconsciously, to his daughter.
Olivia.
Pale as a ghost, staring back at him.
Yes. His greatest card was still in play.
And beyond that—
“Even without me here, everything will proceed as planned.”
The old butler, trembling, caught his master’s look and gave a subtle nod.
The arrow had already left the bow.
Zaveni regained his composure. Even in chains, he strode toward the exit with pride.
“You will regret this.”
“Perhaps.”
Edwin shrugged at the empty threat. He’d heard countless such warnings before.
And he knew exactly how to deal with them.
From his pocket, he drew out a folded handkerchief and smiled brightly.
“Then I’ll silence your mouth before you can make me regret it.”
* * *
In Barhad, hunting was more than sport—it was survival.
With blizzards howling day and night, starving beasts often descended on villages, forcing men to hunt or be hunted.
But this hunt was different.
The royal hunting tournament was a spectacle, hosted by the sovereign himself—a grand stage for the nobility’s social games.
“Ah, it’s been too long. You’ve been well?”
“Quite well, thank you. And you, Lord Julius?”
Polite greetings drifted from cluster to cluster. Behind each smile lay calculation.
In these circles, value was measured in a thousand ways—alliances flaunted, wealth displayed, status paraded.
But above all, the simplest way to draw attention was beauty.
And today, one man in particular drew every pair of eyes.
“Lord Julius, it seems you’re very popular today.”
A friend nudged him with a grin.
“Surely you won’t hoard all the ladies’ affection for yourself?”
“Hardly.” Julius smiled humbly, though his twitching lips betrayed his pride.
Yet suddenly, the admiration vanished.
All at once, the gazes turned elsewhere.
“What—?”
Startled, Julius turned to follow their eyes.
And then he saw him.
“…!”
Upon the dais stood a man whose very presence swallowed the room.
Broad-shouldered, towering, striking beyond compare—so much so that even Julius could only bow inwardly in acknowledgment.
Like iron drawn to a lodestone, every gaze fixed upon him.
Kaisa.
But the sovereign himself seemed oblivious, bending toward his wife to murmur something with a faint smile.
“As I expected—you look perfect.”
Though his voice carried no further than her ear, the tenderness was clear.
“Truly beautiful today.”
Oblivious to the court’s eyes, Kaisa’s gaze belonged to one woman alone.
Sharie.
Her cheeks warmed. She dipped her head shyly.
“Thank you. You look handsome yourself.”
The seamstress had worked miracles.
His hunting attire clung just right, sturdy stitching and supple cloth allowing freedom of movement without sacrificing elegance.
Even Sharie, usually indifferent to clothing, couldn’t help admiring the craftsmanship.
And Kaisa himself seemed pleased.
“That tailor has real skill. Next time, we should commission a matching set for us both.”
The thought made her heart squeeze with longing.
If only I’d had something made to match his…
Yet even in his old garb, Kaisa cut an imposing figure.
The close fit emphasized his predatory grace—shoulders broad as a wall, a lean waist, thighs thick with raw power.
And when he breathed, the leather straps across his chest pulled taut over the swell of his muscles.
Sharie found her eyes straying again and again.
“Why does this feel… indecent? He’s fully clothed, yet I can’t stop staring…”
Her cheeks burned hotter.
Kaisa, catching her gaze, smirked.
“You’ll bore a hole through me.”
Her heart skipped.
“A-ah! I’ll stop looking!”
“No need. I enjoy it.”
She flushed scarlet. His teasing only deepened her embarrassment.
“You won’t look anymore?” he pressed.
Flustered, Sharie ducked her head—her hand slipping into her pocket.
“Sharie?”
Soon, the horns would sound and the hunt would begin.
The grounds stretched vast; once separated, she might not see him again until the end.
I have to give it to him now.
Her mind made up, Sharie drew out the small object hidden within her pocket.
