The road back to the mansion was eerily quiet.
As they emerged from the mountains, the bone-chilling cold that had frozen their skin finally let up.
But a fierce storm still raged within her heart.
"Sis... are you okay?"
Heron, barely managing to walk with a knight's support, asked in a worried voice.
Who was worrying about whom?
At the sight, she forced a faint smile and nodded.
"I'm fine, so take care of yourself first. Your wound's deep."
A hacking cough.
In the silence, the occasional clash of cold steel weapons shattered the quiet now and then.
But she, walking with her gaze fixed on the ground, was anything but fine, despite her words.
There was no way she could be.
The closer they drew to the mansion, the more the image of him—left behind—flickered before her eyes.
'...Make it.'
The distance had been too great to catch what he'd said to the fallen Imir clearly.
But his faintly visible face as he spoke to her.
That expression held neither a victor's leisure nor arrogance.
It was like reciting an obvious fact.
An emotionless look that transcended everything.
...That expression filled her with maddening unease.
'Is that really you?'
Unconsciously, she clutched her skirt.
She didn't know when it had started, but he had changed. Utterly, completely.
The weak, cowardly brother she knew was gone.
In his place stood a stranger of unfathomable depths.
'I took down that bitch. So do as I say.'
A one-sided command. Impossible for Evan Dreadnote just a few years ago.
Words she never would have obeyed under normal circumstances.
'...Scary.'
Scary, brother.
The emotion she'd felt when that coldly sunken gaze turned her way was pure fear.
Terror that his rage might shift from enemy to her.
The clutched fabric trembled faintly.
Recalling that moment without thinking, her hands shook.
'...Is that really brother?'
The words she couldn't voice.
Frightening, yet her heart raced strangely.
In the crisis. That overwhelming figure appearing from nowhere, resolving it effortlessly.
It perilously overlapped with the brother she'd idolized as a child.
'I'll be right back.'
His final words.
But his promised "right back" hadn't held—even two days after their return to the mansion.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Young Lady! The wounded need urgent treatment!"
"I've compiled the list of the deceased. We'll notify the families in sequence..."
"Young Lady. The Family Head's condition is critical. He still hasn't regained consciousness...!"
"The captured prisoners are detained for now, but how should we handle them going forward...?"
A flood of reports and tasks crashed over her like waves.
The Family Head's office brimmed with stacks of documents, hurried footsteps, and desperate voices.
And at their center.
Celine, seated and buried in paperwork, looked pale as someone sleepless for days, issuing orders without pause.
"Divide the wounded by priority levels. Send condolences to the families in the Family's name."
"Yes, understood!"
"Ah, set that matter aside. And Heron?"
"His wounds are deep, so he'll need to recuperate for a while."
"...Haa."
Sign after sign, yet the documents showed no end.
If Heron had been here, she wouldn't be so swamped, but his injuries were severe too.
Unable to handle paperwork, she was proxy signing for now.
'Brother. Where the hell are you and what are you doing?'
Outwardly calm, inside she burned.
The one who'd said he'd return soon hadn't shown after days.
What if that barbarian woman's final struggle killed them both?
Or unnoticed, he'd taken a fatal wound and collapsed?
Or, knowing his disillusionment with the family,
had he seized the chance to vanish forever?
Worst-case scenarios chained endlessly, tormenting her.
'Will he really come back?'
She longed to act herself, but leaving would doom the territory to chaos.
"Young Lady. At least rest your eyes a bit..."
"No. There's a mountain of work left."
Chewing her nails, she processed the influx silently.
After long hesitation, at sunset, she rose as if resolved.
'I can't just wait anymore.'
She needed elite knights dispatched to the mountains now.
"Butler...!"
At least confirm life or death.
The moment she called for the head butler.
"Wha, what..."
"...!"
A commotion echoed from the corridor outside.
As if someone had arrived.
"...What's going on?"
What now?
Her smooth brow furrowed faintly as she called out.
The door-guarding knight burst in, face ashen.
"Y-Young Lady! It's...!"
Before he finished, the heavy office door creaked open slowly, as if by itself.
Kiiiiiik.
All eyes snapped to the door.
Entering their view: Evan, unchanged from two days prior—ashen hair, signature dead eyes.
"Brother...!"
Celine's cry blended relief and resentment, beaming face.
Her voice faded into the air.
She'd meant to demand why he'd taken so long,
but words caught as someone followed him in with a swaggering stride.
Kagagagang.
"Didn't I say no dragging swords inside the mansion?"
"Ah, oops. Habit."
Flaming red hair.
Beauty to steal any man's heart.
Above all, the massive claymore dragged in her grip.
"Isn't that Imir!"
"Y-Young Master! Why her...?"
A knight shrieked.
At "Imir," the room's air iced over.
All present had clashed with her at least once.
They knew that monster's power to their bones,
so knights swallowed reflexively, hands on hilts, alert.
The calamity they'd fought for their lives.
The nightmare that downed the Family Head and left Heron near death stood before them.
"Huaam..."
Imir herself ignored their killing intent.
Yawning boredly, she scanned the room.
"Wow. Southerners. Killer looks. Fancy house too. Huh? Our tribe nearly blows away in the wind."
Casual as a tourist.
"Master. I'm hungry. Food when?"
"..."
Celine blinked blankly, uncomprehending the scene.
What the hell was this?
Why was that monster so casual—and chummy with brother?
As if mocking her turmoil, Evan snapped curtly.
"Shut up and stay put. Food soon."
"Cheap bastard."
Imir pouted but meekly fell behind him.
Like a feral beast heeding its master.
The room's stunned occupants gaped, jaws slack.
Shocks piled on, but most jarring:
...Master? Evan?
Those words hung like a death sentence.
Frostfang Imir.
Northern bloodbath incarnate.
Barbarians acknowledged no outsiders but kin.
And this pinnacle called him "Master" casually.
"What... what trickery!"
Silence shattered: Galen.
Forgetting shattered ribs' agony,
glaring warily at Imir, bellowed.
"You dare scheme here?!"
"Trickery?"
Imir glanced annoyed at Galen, whined to Evan.
"Master. Noisy uncle."
"Dogs bark like that. Ignore."
Evan tapped her head lightly, nonchalant.
The casual exchange instilled surreal dread.
Galen's face burned crimson with humiliation.
"...Young Master Evan. Bind that bitch and dungeon her now!"
"Bind?"
Evan smirked like at a joke.
Stepped to the room's center, eyed stiff knights and pallid Celine.
"Funny thing to say."
Lazy tone, but icy edge made Galen swallow.
"Why? She's my property."
"...Ugh."
Evan draped an arm naturally over Imir's shoulder.
She flinched briefly, then nuzzled in like a cat.
"Y-Young Master! What do you mean! She's our family's foe!"
"Right. Killing her wouldn't suffice...!"
"House Dreadnote's heir, consorting with that barbarian..."
"...Foe?"
Evan's eyes glinted coldly amid the knights' outburst.
"Foe? She's the MVP who ended this war. Isn't she?"
Sneered across them.
"You couldn't stop her even betting lives. I did. Don't boss me."
"..."
"And since when did you treat me like heir? Flapping those foul mouths?"
No replies. None possible.
His words struck cruelly true.
Ignoring glaring knights, Evan shifted to frozen Celine.
"Rin. Captives?"
Snapping to, her silver eyes quivered.
"Ah... Still locked in the underground dungeon."
"Yeah?"
Evan nodded faintly, added casually.
"Release them all. Making 'em my exclusive retainers."
"What...?"
To her near-shout of absurdity, Evan raised a hand.
"I take full blame. Imir manages them. Hiring her as my maid too."
"Maid? Hey! Not what we agreed... Ah, no. Master. Can't I just fight?"
Imir grumbled aside; Evan brushed it off.
"Objections?"
Gaze pinned Galen; he flinched back.
That humiliation silenced the rest.
Evan tapped Celine's shoulder en route out, ignoring them.
"Exhausted. Leave me be awhile. Got work."
"Whoa. Master, too cool?"
"Shut up and follow."
Chin-jut to Imir, he exited.
She scampered after like an excited pup.