WLYV 35

Chapter 35

 A Precious Daughter

Feeling Teishar’s overwhelming presence, Adrian shrugged his shoulders. Brandt swallowed hard as he met Teishar’s unblinking red gaze.

“I know she’s unwell. I was going to ask about that,” Brandt said quietly.

Before he could finish, Teishar clenched his fist and slammed it onto the table. The loud bang made Brandt flinch involuntarily.

“So she was so precious to you that you starved her until she became skin and bone?”

“That wasn’t me who starved her.”

“Saying it was Lady Anne’s doing is nothing but an excuse.”

“Marquess Spencer—!”

“You’d best not claim ignorance of her frail body either.”

Teishar tilted his head slightly and forced one corner of his mouth into a mocking smile.

“If you want me to believe even a little that she’s truly the ‘precious daughter of Count Paul Heredian’, you’d better at least speak as someone who actually knows her condition.”

“Marquess Spencer, do you realize your words are crossing the line?”

“You say I’m crossing the line… but I haven’t truly crossed the line into the Heredian estate yet.”

Brandt’s face flushed red.

“If I were to cross that line,” Teishar said coldly, “I’d do it properly—in the name of House Spencer. If that’s what you want, then by all means, keep talking. I’ll cross it for real.”

Crushed by Teishar’s terrifyingly hardened expression, Brandt could do nothing but sit still. A tense silence followed, and at last, Brandt spoke first.

“I only wish to take my daughter back. I’ve imprisoned Anne, who abused Lorencia. There’s no one left at the estate to harm her. I’ll take good care of her, so please—let me bring her home.”

“…Ha?”

Teishar’s eyes narrowed dangerously. The very word care made him bristle.

Not even her real father.

“You think Lady Lorencia was only tormented by Lady Anne? Count Paul Heredian.”

“I don’t understand what you mean, Marquess Spencer.”

“Lady Illina also struck Lady Lorencia.”

“Our Illina would never do such a thing. You may have heard rumors, but she’s always been a kind girl who looks after Lorencia.”

Teishar clenched his jaw to suppress the fury boiling inside him at such a shameless lie.

“Lady Illina came to visit. She said she had something to say to Lorencia in private—and after that, Lorencia’s cheek was swollen.”

Brandt merely nodded, as if it were nothing.

“Yes, I know. Yesterday, Illina went to the Imperial Palace to see her sister because she missed her dearly. I was so worried about it that I came today myself.”

He sighed heavily before continuing.

“Lorencia is a sick child—physically and mentally unstable. You said her cheek was swollen? Then she likely hit herself, as she often does.”

Teishar stayed silent, letting Brandt continue digging his own grave.

“She’s a mentally ill girl, broken by Anne’s cruel abuse. She harms herself, lies, and sows discord. Keeping such a child in the palace will only bring harm to others. That’s why I’m asking you to return her—before she causes any more trouble.”

Teishar said nothing. Brandt, expecting a rebuttal, grew uneasy at the silence. He had no idea what Teishar was thinking and grew increasingly nervous.

“You and Lady Lorencia… don’t look alike at all, Count.”

“What are you implying? She’s my daughter.”

“Yes, your daughter—who’s currently malnourished. Are you aware of that?”

“What exactly are you trying to say? I’ve told you repeatedly—the abuse wasn’t by me but by Anne! Marquess Spencer, return my daughter to me at once!”

Brandt was trying desperately to take Lorencia back—not like a father longing for his child, but like a man nervously trying to recover a misplaced possession.

What is he so afraid of?
Or perhaps… is someone holding something over him?

“Return her to me…”

“She’s your precious daughter, is that it?”

Teishar’s teeth ground together audibly. Brandt kept insisting—“Return my daughter”—as if trying to drag that young, fragile tree of a girl back into hell itself.

“I promise my beloved daughter will never again be harmed by Anne,” Brandt pleaded on. To any outsider overhearing them, Teishar might have seemed like a villain holding someone’s child hostage.

“I would like to send her back,” Teishar said coldly, “but I can’t.”

“What do you mean by that?”

‘My father will come soon, Marquess Spencer.’

Teishar recalled what Lorencia had told him before her reading lesson the previous day.

‘He’ll demand you return me, no matter what. When that happens, please call for me—or if that’s impossible, tell him clearly what I said.’

“Lady Lorencia said she doesn’t wish to return to the count’s estate.”

“My Lorencia would never say such a thing. With Anne gone, Illina, Lorencia, and I will finally have a happy household again.”

Watching Brandt’s forced smile and denial of Lorencia’s will only disgusted Teishar further.

“She said she absolutely does not want to go back.”

“Hahaha. I suppose our dear Lorencia has taken a liking to palace life, Marquess Spencer.”

“She isn’t refusing because she likes the palace, Count. She refuses because she hates the count’s house.”

“…Then at least let me see her face. I miss my daughter terribly.”

Teishar’s lips twisted into a warped grin. Then, with a sudden motion, he seized Brandt by the collar and yanked him forward. The fabric strained and crackled.

At the man’s audacity to say he missed Lorencia, Teishar’s mind went red with rage.

Brandt’s shameless pretense of love ignited his fury.

“What are you doing!” Brandt shouted, shocked, struggling to pull free.

“Marquess Spencer,” Adrian interjected quickly, trying to mediate between them. “He’s still a high noble of the Empire—Count Paul Heredian. Please, just let it go once.”

When Teishar finally released him, Brandt coughed harshly and glared. Teishar’s red eyes curved into a half-moon, dangerously calm. Without Adrian’s intervention, he might well have strangled the man to death.

“I only came to take my daughter home. What is the meaning of this violence?” Brandt demanded.

Under Teishar’s chilling stare, Brandt averted his eyes. He’d heard the man was cold and stern, but this was beyond rumor. He hadn’t expected to be grabbed by the collar. A lunatic.

He wanted to demand an apology between houses, but he wasn’t foolish enough to get entangled with the Spencers over pride. The mad are best avoided. For now, bringing Lorencia back was far more urgent than preserving dignity.

“I can’t believe Lorencia said she won’t return. Please, let me see her.”

“Your daughter, you say…”

Would Teishar lose himself to rage first—or kill Brandt first? His mind flashed back to a conversation with Evan and Amelin.

“We were shocked to hear Lady Lorencia is said to be the illegitimate child of the Heredian Count, Master.”

At first, he’d only felt curiosity.

“Evan, being illegitimate isn’t that strange.”
“But if Lady Lorencia’s mother was Lady Musila, then her father must be Lord Cain.”

Then confusion.

“Who is Lord Cain?”
“Lord Cain was the second son of Duke de Gloston—one of the three grand ducal houses of the Poroid Empire. Twenty years ago, he was betrothed to Lady Musila, and he was an exceptional swordsman—the commander of the 2nd Imperial Knights.”

And finally, astonishment.

“Father never told me any of this.”
“It would be best to ask Lord Magus directly.”
“Wait… if that’s true, then Count Heredian isn’t her real father?”
“Of course not. He’s certainly not her biological father.”
“When I first saw Lady Lorencia, I was struck by how much she resembled Lord Cain.”
“There’s no doubt—she’s the granddaughter of the former Duke and Duchess of de Gloston.”

Teishar had covered his mouth in shock at their words.

“There must be a great conspiracy behind this—something terrifying. Lady Musila couldn’t have died otherwise.”
“If Lady Musila truly perished, then Lord Cain likely did too…”

And so, Teishar learned the secret of Lorencia’s birth—an unbelievable truth Evan and Amelin had laid bare.

It sounded absurd. Yet both had spoken with absolute conviction: Lorencia was Cain’s daughter.

“If you ever see Lord Cain’s portrait, you’ll understand what I meant when I said, ‘Lady Lorencia resembles him.’”