“Greetings, Duke.”

“Welcome to the Bluewell estate.”

The man who welcomed Rupert had striking blue hair, a middle-aged figure with an air of authority. He was Firionel Bluewell, the head of the Bluewell family, reputed to hold the greatest power and influence among the Empire’s nobles. They had met once before at a banquet, and their third encounter had been during the Agora, but this was the first time they were meeting one-on-one, which added a hint of awkwardness.

“I truly appreciate the judgment you gave at the recent Agora.”

“Well, my daughter asked me to do it, and I do admit that I’ve caused the Somerset family trouble in the past. But, even objectively, that debate was yours to win.”

Duke Bluewell waved off Rupert’s thanks, indicating that he had felt Rupert's victory was deserved. Had he sided with Rupert solely out of friendship, he would have considered it shameful, but Rupert had won fair and square in his view.

“Nevertheless, I was able to win because of your judgment, Duke.”

Rupert remained gracious, which prompted the Duke to recall the first time he had seen Rupert at a banquet. Back then, Bluewell had a less-than-favorable opinion of him.

‘There have always been fools trying to curry favor with my family.’

Countless young men had attempted to approach his daughter, Amelia, in an effort to forge connections with the prestigious Bluewell family. And Bluewell could boast without hesitation that Amelia possessed beauty and poise that would impress anyone.

So, he was initially suspicious of Rupert’s intentions, assuming him to be another opportunist drawn to Amelia’s allure. But his perception changed after meeting Rupert directly.

Rupert had been there, standing beside his father, the Earl of Somerset, who was more like a figurehead. Rupert took on the responsibility of meeting guests himself, exactly as the rumors described.

‘Ha ha, many misunderstand as you did, Your Grace. But it was my decision to step back.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I wanted to let my son take charge. After all, it was he who rescued the family from ruin after my mistakes had nearly led us to disaster.’

Rupert’s father had voluntarily stepped aside, recognizing that Rupert was better suited to lead the family. It was an unusual choice that intrigued Bluewell, particularly given his own thoughts about succession and family obligations.

From that point on, Bluewell found himself questioning whether his own daughter truly wanted to succeed the family or if that was merely his own expectation. His goal had always been to ensure his daughters’ happiness and safety.

“At first, you surprised me with your books. Then, you went on to become a professor at the Academy, and now you’ve even won the Agora. I’m genuinely impressed,” the Duke remarked, eyeing Rupert.

“I was just lucky.”

Luck? Bluewell didn’t believe in luck—or rather, he believed that luck was a skill in itself. To revive a fallen family was no easy feat, and he knew he might have crumbled had he been in Rupert’s shoes.

“Do you have a lady you’re courting, or anyone you’re interested in?”

“No, I’ve been too busy with work to think about such things.”

“Hmm... you’re the head of the Somerset family now, aren’t you? At your age, it’s about time you considered marriage.”

“Thank you for your advice, I’ll keep it in mind.”

Bluewell knew that Rupert’s personal life was unusually clean. He’d only asked to confirm what he already suspected.

“Well, I suppose that’s enough from an old man like me. Amelia’s here, so why don’t you chat with her for a bit before you go?”

With that, Bluewell stood and left the room before Rupert could respond.

‘That’s all I can do for you, my dear daughter.’

Everyone knew Amelia’s feelings for Rupert, and the Duke hoped she would make the next move herself. Though he was reluctant to hand his beloved daughter over to another man, if she was happy, he would accept it. Plus, marriage meant he could avoid Amelia’s cooking—something both he and his younger daughter, Evelyn, might find relief in, given how their cheeks had been thinning of late.

The aftermath of the Agora was as tumultuous as ever. The victor held the absolute right to demand anything from the defeated, except their life, which often resulted in severe ruin for the losers.

“I declare that today, Delle Macbeth is no longer an honorable noble. The Macbeth family name is hereby removed from the Empire’s noble registry. Henceforth, anyone using the Macbeth name will be subject to Imperial law…”

The Emperor’s representative delivered the decree in front of Macbeth’s mansion. The former Count, along with his family and retainers, could do nothing but listen in shock.

“Furthermore, in accordance with the sacred rights of the Agora’s victor, Rupert Somerset, all of Delle’s assets are hereby confiscated as of this moment.”

At a signal from the representative, dozens of Yuren Guild employees entered the estate and began clearing it out with impressive efficiency.

“You thugs! Do you have any idea how precious those are?! Don’t you dare touch them!” Delle cried, watching as his family heirlooms were carried away.

Delle tried to stop them himself, but a Yuren employee punched him squarely in the face, sending him sprawling to the ground.

“You’re not a noble anymore. You’d better get used to it.”

His family rushed to his side, but the employee paid them no mind, continuing to haul away their belongings.

“What… what is happening…”

Clutching his swollen cheek, Delle could barely process the reality. Once, even a glance would have been enough to have a lowly guild worker beaten. Now, he was punched by one without consequence. It was incomprehensible.

“Get out of here! Stop blocking the way and leave this estate!”

“This is my home…”

“Everything you owned, including this estate, is now part of the Somerset family’s property. Don’t even think about touching it.”

As he was thrown out onto the street, Delle understood fully that he was no longer a noble. The name, the title, the wealth—everything was gone. All that remained were his wife, who knew nothing of real work after a life of luxury, and his son, who had only ever been a tyrant to the common folk.

“Look, it’s Count Macbeth!”

“Don’t call him that; he’s a commoner now!”

“I heard it from the Emperor’s envoy himself!”

Cast out and exposed, Delle could feel the hostile eyes of the commoners like predators watching their prey.

‘How did it come to this?’

The Agora’s final moments came back to him.

“I request that the title of Count Macbeth be revoked, and that all of his assets be seized as the victor’s right.”

With a devastating 3-0 defeat, Macbeth had faced the harshest punishment. Other members of the Imperial Parents Association had escaped with fines, but as their representative, Macbeth had lost everything. Rupert’s message to the nobility was clear:

‘Cross me, and I will show no mercy.’

If he had truly wished to, Rupert might have stripped all the Association’s members of their titles, but he knew that doing so would provoke the nobles further, potentially rallying them against him. By punishing Macbeth alone and sparing the others, Rupert set a precedent without overstepping.

Anyone who dared stand against him as a representative would face the consequences.

Furthermore, the nobility had no sympathy for those who had lost their usefulness. They were known for their cold pragmatism, abandoning former allies the moment they became liabilities.

And then…

“Mu… Muriel, why are you here…?”

“Still don’t know your place, Delle?”

The scavengers were already circling, waiting for the weak to fall.