Chapter 32
Suddenly, I was reminded that Gepetto was the son of the hidden villain.
‘Well, he’s not exactly stupid…’
He just used that decent brain of his to secretly hoard money and traffic drugs.
The carriage finally came to a halt in front of the Luweiz estate.
The long-abandoned mansion was steeped in an eerie silence.
Yet, there were no signs of collapse or urgent repairs.
…It was undeniable that the Luweiz estate was far better than the dilapidated temple.
“One more thing.”
“What now?”
Gepetto snapped irritably.
“You didn’t expel me from the family on purpose, did you?”
At the tribunal, I assumed he was too incompetent to remove me. But in the carriage, I reconsidered.
From what I’d observed, Gepetto was more capable than I thought.
Back when the Marquis was alive, he used to rant daily about disowning me—so surely, he knew the proper procedures.
Gepetto’s shoulders trembled. He bit his lip and hesitated for a while before finally muttering:
“That day… You looked too happy walking away with those papers… It seemed suspicious…”
I grabbed him by the collar.
“You crazy bastard!”
“Kyaak!”
Even his scream sounded as pathetic as he was.
The Luweiz mansion was an empty shell.
When Gepetto had been arrested, the family members and servants had all scattered.
Meaning there was no one around to witness our “physical conversation.”
“Why waste your precious hands in a place like this, milady?”
Marsha interjected.
“The young master will now have to watch the Luweiz family sink. But he’s in a fragile state… I’m afraid even the slightest shock might break him.”
At first, I thought she pitied the skinny, prison-worn Gepetto.
‘Turns out I completely misunderstood.’
Marsha’s revenge was just beginning.
“That’s why I hope he regains his healthy body soon.”
“What? I’m going to be on a strict diet now?!”
Gepetto shrieked in horror.
He seemed convinced that once he was fit again, Marsha would do to him what he used to do to others.
‘Well, you should’ve lived kindly.’
Marsha wasn’t wrong.
I brought Gepetto back to use him as a tool in the Luweiz family’s downfall.
I wanted it documented that the family crumbled from within—so the Luweiz name would vanish from history.
To do that, I needed someone like Gepetto, who knew the family well.
Just in case, I’d erased his name from the noble registry.
‘If he can’t be Marquis for sure, he won’t get any funny ideas.’
As for my name… I’d leave it for now.
Since I needed an excuse to enter the estate—and once the house collapsed, the noble registry would be void anyway.
‘I’ll work Gepetto to the bone—but without guilt, as long as I feed him.’
Marsha was wise.
Thankfully, Gepetto looked relatively fine apart from some weight loss.
Unexpectedly, just before entering the mansion, he turned back to look at me.
“…So, you’re going to live here too?”
“For now, yes.”
There were two reasons for that.
First, I didn’t trust him.
He needed to be kept close if I was going to watch and work him.
And second…
[Isn’t the Luweiz estate more suitable for raising children than a ruined temple?]
It was Asel’s suggestion.
He even brought up Seraphina—making it impossible to argue.
The temple, though holy, had collapsing and decaying parts—no place for a child.
‘There are plenty of rooms here. I can make a nice one for Seraphina.’
Just as I was thinking that, I felt an annoying stare.
It was Gepetto, still standing at the threshold, waiting patiently.
A rare moment of patience.
“Confess.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You rigged something inside, didn’t you? Confess now and I’ll reduce your sentence.”
“What?! I didn’t do anything!”
At my second attempt to interrogate him, he mumbled sheepishly.
“I mean… yeah, I made mistakes… but…”
“But?”
“With you here… I figured I wouldn’t get dragged off by royal knights again.”
He had been waiting for me because I made him feel safe.
Even now, he was still pale from the trauma of the royal knights seizing the estate.
‘You’d think he was an innocent wrongly imprisoned…’
“What do you even think of me? If you mess with drugs again, I can’t save you.”
Gepetto turned and glared at me.
“Tch, I know that much, okay?!”
He stomped into the mansion with dramatic steps.
When no traps were triggered inside, I considered it a successful on-site inspection.
Time to move my belongings from the temple.
While giving orders to the waiting coachman, Gepetto suddenly popped his head out the window.
“Where are you going?”
“To pack.”
“…Pack?”
I’d lived in the temple for months, so my belongings had accumulated.
Most importantly, I couldn’t leave Sirin alone with Seraphina anymore.
As soon as he heard that, Gepetto disappeared into the mansion—only to return moments later, cloak on, joining me.
“I’m coming too.”
He looked anxious, and I clicked my tongue.
“What, can’t stay home alone like a kid?”
“Shut up!”
Blushing, he threw a curse and climbed into the carriage.
As soon as we arrived at the temple, his complaints started.
“You lived here instead of a proper house? You could eat in this dump? Ugh, ghosts must live here—damn! That spider’s huge!”
A spider startled him into flapping his arms. Marsha helped him stay upright, though he immediately jerked his arm away.
“…I wasn’t scared, okay?”
“Is that so?”
Marsha responded flatly.
Clearly upset, Gepetto stormed inside, muttering incomprehensible curses.
“Why are there so many apples?”
Then, without being told, he picked up some cloth and slung it over his shoulder.
Marsha whispered softly.
“Does the young master not know you’re a wind spirit user?”
“Let him be. Says he’s strength-training.”
“Ah…”
Gepetto’s physical strength was abysmal.
He’d always made servants do the chores—so there was no reserve strength to draw on.
A single apple rolled out of his bundle.
Someone next to him picked it up and offered it back.
“Hmph, I can do it myself!”
He stuffed it back in his sack and glared at me—until he realized I was standing too far to have handed it over.
He looked down.
“W-What the—who are you?!”
It was Seraphina.
She had walked up to him and now stared directly at him.
Then she smiled and said:
“Sambton?” (Uncle?)
And finally—
“Uncle?! What the hell kind of nonsense is that?!”
Gepetto’s shout echoed throughout the ruined temple.
* * *
Elsewhere…
The Grand Duke stood at a window, arms folded.
A silhouette slipped over the wall and knelt before him.
“I’ve returned, Your Grace.”
“Good. I trust no traces were left behind?”
“Of course not.”
Prince Malken had been eliminated—made to look like suicide.
Malken was deeply tied to the Grand Duke’s schemes. If not cut off cleanly, the trail might have reached the Duke himself.
If Malken had been competent—if he’d succeeded in bringing down Laura as proposed—perhaps he’d have been spared.
But he failed. Completely.
His death was simply the price of failure.
