Flies still lingered in the night sky, their wings catching the silver moonlight, while the faint sound from the gazebo drifted across the courtyard.
Yet in an instant, the atmosphere changed, like thunder breaking a calm sky.
Ivaan's face grew darker, his shadow stretching longer across the garden stones.
His voice, smooth yet sharp, echoed in the silence.
"Sir Danwel… does this boy truly belong to you?"
The question struck harder than any sword.
He no longer needed proof.
Everyone already knew why people avoided being tangled with the Viscount.
His boy acted recklessly without thought, without control.
Still, Ivaan's voice carried on, relentless.
"It is my duty to ask. Tell me, Viscount was this the son you raised? Did you not teach him manners? Or has he already forgotten his place?"
The Viscount forced a sly smile, trying to hide his tension.
"Oh, Ivaan… don't you think that's a very rude comment? You've not met my son for more than a few minutes, yet you question how I raised him."
Ivaan clenched his fist for a moment before regaining his composure.
"Viscount, it only takes a few seconds to see the truth of someone's upbringing."
Before the Viscount could answer, a voice rang from the corridor.
"Master Ivaan!"
Irwin appeared at the edge of the courtyard, moving quickly but with the same sharp precision as always. He bowed lightly but did not hide the urgency in his voice.
Ivaan's jaw tightened. The third interruption today.
His thoughts hissed like ice: If this keeps happening, my temperature will rise. Does everyone in this tower have a death wish tonight?
Irwin stopped a few paces away and inclined his head. "Forgive me, my lord".
Irwin quickly realized that he had chosen the wrong moment and that he had done something wrong.
Irwin and Lior now felt the same weight of suppression pressing down on them.
But unlike Lior, who stood frozen and pale, Irwin had long years of experience serving under his master. He knew that when Ivaan's presence grew this heavy, hesitation was dangerous.
Better to finish quickly than let the silence drag.
He straightened, forced calm into his voice, and spoke clearly:
"Master, it is the time of the funeral rituals. We should return at once."
On the word funeral, Ivaan's expression shifted.
His face grew warmer, a faint trace of stress appearing beneath his anger, frustration, and strangely amusement.
His shoulders straightened, his boots scraping softly against the stone as he prepared to leave. Without turning back to the Viscount or Lior, he spoke, his voice smooth but unyielding:
"Viscount, I trust you will teach him a proper lesson next time. He must learn to take responsibility for his actions without being so reckless and arrogant."
With those words, Ivaan strode toward the exit. His figure blurred into the night, fading among the faint glow of fireflies, leaving Irwin, Sir Danwel, and the pathetic Lior standing in uneasy silence.
Irwin was also ready to depart from the clock tower with his master, but a shadow of doubt lingered in his mind. He had not fully understood the situation just now, and the thought of leaving with things unfinished did not sit well with him.
Without wasting a moment, he turned to the Viscount and asked carefully,
"Sir Danwel… was there some problem just now with …"
Before he could finish, the Viscount's voice cut him off sharply.
"Irwin, don't you think your master will be angrier if you delay any further? You should move fast!"
The interruption was clear. Irwin paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. He was sharp enough to realize that the Viscount was deliberately trying to dismiss him quickly. There must be something more here… something he doesn't want me to see, he thought.
Still, the Viscount was not entirely wrong. If he delayed too much, his master's temper would surely worsen. Irwin exhaled, lowered his head, and bent his back in respect to the Viscount.
"Understood," he said simply.
Then, without pressing further, he turned and followed the path toward the exit, his boots clicking softly against the stone as he departed. Yet in his heart, suspicion grew heavier.
Finally, the Viscount allowed himself a small smile of relief, as if he had won a silent battle. The tension in his shoulders eased, and for a moment, he thought the ordeal was over.
But his expression froze instantly.
His gaze fell upon his son, still standing there with unreadable expressions.
Lior was still standing there.
one of his feet, a shoe had gone missing. He was just watching the exit, his hair partially covering his eyes, but you could still see that his pupils were wide and dilated, and his lips were slightly parted.
Then a gust of wind blew, making his blue hair flutter in the air. He ran his slender fingers through it, and a sparkle appeared in his eyes. As he lifted his head, a small smile spread across his face. His delicate features looked so perfect, it was as if a celestial being had descended to the earth.
Lior realized that his father was watching him. At once, he slipped back into his playful, childlike act. He folded his hands behind his back, tilted his head slightly, and said in a sweet voice,
"Father, I am sorry. I have made a great mistake… haven't I?"
His smile looked foolish, almost careless, yet there was something strangely appealing about it.