Sitting in the office, Lys applied the improved transparent anti-swelling ointment around Friedm's eye socket. "Why didn't you fight back at first?"
"Lys, he wasn't worth it. My spell effects have been particularly unstable lately—I was afraid I'd accidentally kill him. His sudden arrogance must mean he's got some backing I don't know about."
Friedm drew in a sharp breath. "You said many uncontrollable situations sometimes begin with one small incident..." He looked up earnestly. "I haven't done anything, yet I've already spent quite a bit of money and caused you plenty of trouble."
"But I didn't expect him to deliberately ambush me there! He did it on purpose!" Friedm looked thoroughly indignant.
"It has nothing to do with you—that was aimed at me." Lys ground her teeth but still refrained from making threats. Only threats that could be executed were genuine; otherwise, voicing them was merely empty posturing.
She simply spread the ointment evenly across Friedm's face. "By the way, would you like to accompany me to the Triwizard Tournament?"
"Yes, yes, yes, yes!" Friedm looked at Lys with such excitement that the ointment on his face trembled. He'd thought Lys wasn't planning to bring him!
Lys indeed hadn't originally intended to bring him. This time, the three premier Western schools, with approval from various national magical departments, had revived the Triwizard Tournament—this ancient competitive event.
But due to the distinction between hosts and guests, the students Durmstrang brought needed to be willing to participate in the competition.
Friedm barely reached five feet tall, only coming up to Lys's upper arm—she had to look down to see him. Moreover, he was only in fourth year, having skipped a grade at that.
Though Lys believed Friedm wouldn't necessarily be selected, she'd heard the selector wasn't human.
After all her years studying magic, Lys knew it could produce absolutely any outcome.
A child wielding a wand, regardless of purpose, was terrifying enough—let alone competing in some tournament.
But leaving Friedm alone at Durmstrang made Lys even more anxious, so she might as well keep him close.
"Right then. Come find me after lessons. I'll help you practice spells."
Both tactfully avoided mentioning the blood-splattered throat from earlier.
That evening, Lys received an invitation to visit the Karkaroff estate the following day.
Looking at Stalys seated before him, Menier Quaid's expression showed distinct displeasure.
But he could hardly say "Why didn't you show me proper respect in public?" so he could only briefly explain some misunderstandings regarding his fiancée.
Some chaotic, fabricated romantic rumours that had caused confusion.
But Lys didn't accept his explanation. She remained as direct as when she'd first chosen Karkaroff: "I chose Karkaroff because to some extent, I need the vague connection between your family and the former Dark Lord to shield me at certain moments."
Lys's expression remained composed.
"But when hostile elements appear within your family toward me, I hope you won't mind certain actions of mine—or my withdrawal. After all, I can't handle this sort of... fabricated yet accepted reality particularly well."
Menier Quaid's expression suddenly froze.
Then his smile carried a trace of annoyance. "Withdrawal? What—not afraid of when Voldemort might return anymore?"
"I am afraid, but between two disadvantages, I still prefer having some choice in the matter."
"This is the Karkaroff household, and I am its true master."
"But her child is equally a Karkaroff family member, and..." Lys ignored his hostile gaze, "influential."
After all, pure-blood heirs were precious—once they appeared, they became treasures to their respective families.
Moreover, the true master of the Karkaroff family had never been Menier Quaid. She was beginning to suspect she'd made entirely the wrong choice...
She suddenly straightened and stared directly into Menier Quaid's eyes. "I had no bloody idea my rumours were being spread so disgracefully, and from certain perspectives, the trouble my brother faces because of this seems considerable!"
"I thought my choice would bring stability. But what's the reality?"
"Mr. Menier Quaid Karkaroff, I harbour no particular grievance against you, but I believe that being affiliated with the Karkaroff family, we should receive a certain level of respect—even without any particularly significant contributions. Don't you agree?"
Lys smiled without warmth. "We all have our unique principles, don't we? I simply hope my life remains unaffected."
She'd endured the revulsion of being harassed at seventeen and the gradually mounting wariness of relying on the Karkaroff family until now.
Yet as the Dark Lord's presence grew increasingly prominent, she'd discovered her chosen backing had developed factors detrimental to herself and her family.
The thought made controlling her emotions nearly impossible.
She wanted to say more but held back, preparing to leave instead—she couldn't afford to offend Karkaroff too severely.
Recently, the Dark Mark on Lys's left arm, which had long since faded, had begun gradually darkening again. On extremely rare occasions, it even felt slightly scorching.
So even though Karkaroff's current attitude seemed rather different from what Lys had hoped, she still had to swallow this indignity...
And Menier Quaid?
He knew perfectly well that any Karkaroff under close scrutiny had no right to freely display their attitude, yet he'd still permitted such rumours to flourish.
He'd wanted to test the woman before him—for his own selfish reasons...
But not only had his hints fallen on deaf ears, the entire situation had been turned into this mess by his fiancée.
Just as both lapsed into silence, the sound of a walking stick tapping the floor echoed from outside the study.
With the walking stick's rhythm, Lys turned and offered a simple nod: "Old sir."
As she bowed her head, she employed Occlumency. Germany's most terrifying old monster wasn't comparable to Menier Quaid, who could be tested by some upstart heir.
"Ah, Quaid, step out for a moment. I have some matters I'd like to discuss with her. When you're old, you develop greater curiosity about young people."
One of the old sir's legs had somehow been broken over the years and remained unhealed.
He refused Menier Quaid's assistance, walking to his chair with his walking stick and settling down with a relieved sigh: "Indeed, we all have our unique principles."
After adjusting his leg to a more comfortable position, the old sir studied Lys intently. "Don't make your rejection quite so obviously defensive, my dear. I'm old—Karkaroff is merely my surname now."
Lys didn't believe this statement for a second. For people like him, their surname was their family—their everything!
You had to understand—when Menier Quaid's father died, this old sir, as Menier Quaid's uncle, had even sworn an Unbreakable Vow to stabilise the family's situation. He'd promised never to have descendants of his own, eliminating suspicions of power struggles whilst simultaneously steadying the then-precarious Karkaroff family and Germany's entire wizarding world. He was a legend among German families.
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