After asking Cecilia and his friends to wait for a moment, Theo stepped aside with Naban.

“I didn’t expect you to arrive so soon.”

At Theo’s words, Naban folded his arms and gave a sarcastic snort.

“You didn’t forget, did you?”

“Of course not. Why would I?”

Theo flinched slightly but kept his composure, answering calmly. He knew that mentioning he’d been busy collecting relics and sword pearls would only irritate Naban further.

“From the looks of it, you probably don’t know the full aftermath of what happened. I suppose the news hasn’t been officially released yet.”

Though it seemed Naban had figured out some of it, he didn’t press Theo for details.

“The Bacchus family has collapsed. The head and key retainers were all dragged to Winterer on charges of rebellion. Thanks to that, other members have been clinging to me non-stop, and it’s been exhausting.”

“You sound more amused than annoyed.”

Naban touched the corner of his mouth, chuckling.

“Was it that obvious?”

“Very much so.”

“Well, I’ve never felt the need to hide the fact that the main family was a mess.”

Naban scoffed and continued, “Anyway, while I was being held as a hostage, most suspicions against me were cleared. Soon, I’ll likely be installed as the new head of Bacchus, albeit with a few restrictions.”

Naban fixed his gaze on Theo.

“This is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Theo responded with a silent smile.

Naban’s brow furrowed slightly.

“Even though I supposedly switched sides, Ragnar’s suspicion about rebellion is known to be relentless, enough to drive anyone mad. And Black Snow’s tenacity is particularly famous. Yet, I was released so easily, almost as if someone gave special orders from above.”

“…”

“It feels like your hand was involved, doesn’t it?”

“If it seems that way to you, then perhaps it’s true.”

“You’re not going to give a straight answer, are you?”

Naban clicked his tongue in irritation, but he continued, “Well, whatever. Regardless, thanks to you, I got to deal with that damned father and the old folks. There’s no revenge more satisfying than having an illegitimate child take over the family. But.”

Theo had a sense of what Naban was about to say.

“A short-lived victory isn’t worth much. What about our agreement? When will you fulfill it?”

The agreement.

It was the promise Theo had made to cure Naban’s incurable illness.

Theo’s eyes grew serious.

Naban Bacchus was a rebellious spirit. Winning him over would require careful handling from now on.

With a swift motion, Theo took something from his coat and tossed it to Naban.

Caught off guard, Naban instinctively grabbed it.

It was a potion.

“What is this…?”

“A cure. I’ve included instructions for preparing it as well. Just a warning, though—it tastes awful.”

“…!”

Naban unwrapped the paper surrounding the potion, his eyes widening as he read the list of common herbs used in the formula.

*Special Celery Juice of the Blood Sword Formula. This potent elixir can steadily alleviate Naban’s condition by reinforcing his energy.*

Naban’s illness drained his vitality little by little, eventually consuming his life force itself. But by reinforcing his vitality and gradually improving his constitution, he could manage it.

Theo—no, Black Snow from his previous life—had learned of this method because of the time gap between Naban’s death and the emergence of the Blood Sword Formula.

*He’s giving this up so easily…?*

Naban was shocked. He’d been prepared for Theo to use the cure to manipulate him slowly over time. Instead, Theo had handed it over with no strings attached.

“What’s your angle? I doubt someone as clever as you thinks this is all it takes to earn my loyalty.”

“If I used the cure to control you, would you truly be loyal?”

“…”

“More likely, you’d get annoyed and look for an opportunity to betray me.”

*This guy knows me too well.*

They’d first met through the Ceres Trading Company, but it was as if Theo had been watching him for a long time or understood his nature instinctively.

“Which is why I won’t try to force you into anything, Naban. I believe that demonstrating my worthiness to lead is more effective.”

“Worthy of my loyalty, huh? How do you plan to prove that?”

“Keep watching me.”

“…”

“Then decide if I’m worth following. In the meantime, Naban…”

Theo’s eyes darkened.

“Rebuild Bacchus. Turn it into something worthy of my attention.”

“…!”

Thump. Thump.

Naban’s heart began to pound. It had been a long time since he’d felt anything but apathy. Now, his heart surged with a strange, invigorating energy, as if awakening from a long sleep.

*He’s telling me to prove myself, to demonstrate my value. If I don’t, he’ll discard me.*

There was an arrogance to Theo’s confidence that Naban found deeply satisfying.

“Fine. I’ll bring Bacchus under control, and you won’t be able to do without me, my lord.”

“Good.”

Theo and Naban exchanged smiles, a shared look of mutual understanding.

* * *

“Senator, you’ve had too much to drink. Please, for tonight—”

“What? Are you mocking me too?”

The Senator, Wolfgang, the “Elder Dragon,” scowled, drunkenly waving off the aide who was trying to calm him down.

“N-no, of course not! I would never dare…”

“Then stop bothering me and get lost!”

The aide backed away, visibly intimidated, and Wolfgang snorted in disdain.

“Hmph! All of them—scheming, waiting to tear into me like wolves! But just wait. I won’t go down that easily.”

The people who once surrounded Wolfgang had quietly withdrawn. After the recent Troyban incident, Wolfgang had become the subject of suspicion due to his association with Ed.

There hadn’t been any official summons or announcements from Black Snow, but given Wolfgang’s long-standing conflicts with the Black Dragon, it felt like a matter of time.

Wolfgang found the situation increasingly frustrating.

*All this… because of that wretched bastard Theo Ragnar!*

He resented not Ed, but Theo—the illegitimate upstart who’d thrown the clan into disarray. If he could, Wolfgang would crush Theo himself, but he knew that was impossible. Theo had earned the favor of not just Julius and the Plum Palace Lord but even the Black Dragon.

*Just slip up once, Theo. That’ll be the day I end you.*

Dark thoughts swirled in Wolfgang’s mind as he spotted a familiar figure near the entrance.

Heavy makeup and an extravagant dress—an unmistakable face, trying to hide her innate vulgarity.

*Perfect. Maybe I can vent some of this frustration.*

A cruel grin crossed Wolfgang’s face.

* * *

*Can I really go in like this?*

Standing at the entrance of the grand hall, Evelyn adjusted her outfit in front of a full-length mirror.

She was wearing a dress, a deep, midnight-blue garment that shimmered like the night sky. Its elegant lines suited her perfectly.

The dress was a gift from Cecilia, who had assured her it would look beautiful on her. Still, Evelyn felt out of place, unused to such attire after a lifetime in training gear and armor. Even with the accessories and makeup, she wondered if it was all too much.

Her biggest concern, however, lay elsewhere.

*I took the plunge, thinking it would look natural…*

She touched the prosthetic arm that extended halfway down her forearm. She had checked it multiple times, and it felt just as responsive as a real arm. But the cold, metallic feel didn’t belong in a lavish gathering like this.

*Maybe I should just go back.*

Turning to leave and return to the training grounds, Evelyn remembered Cecilia’s words.

*“You need to recognize your own beauty, Evelyn. Be confident. If you respect yourself, others will follow suit.”*

Taking a deep breath, Evelyn steadied herself.

*I’m here. I’ll just see Theo and the captain, then go.*

As she stepped into the entrance,

“Introducing Evelyn Nereville, Fifth Captain of the White Iron Cavalry and Senior Swordswoman!”

All eyes in the hall turned toward her.

*Evelyn?*

*The name sounds familiar…*

*Oh! Isn’t she Theo Ragnar’s sword instructor?*

She overheard murmurs, some unpleasant, but she walked forward with confidence.

“Oh, Evelyn! You look stunning.”

Cecilia hurried over, taking both of Evelyn’s hands in hers.

“You wore the dress I gave you. I told you it would suit you perfectly, didn’t I? My instincts weren’t wrong.”

“Thank you. Thanks to you, I got to try something like this.”

“Do it more often. Dress up as much as you like. Whenever you need help, just let me know.”

Wellington and Erica chimed in.

“To be honest, I barely recognized you, Captain. Right, Holcus?”

“H-huh?”

*Pay attention,* Erica elbowed Holcus, who quickly snapped back to reality and awkwardly nodded.

“Y-yeah! We should take a picture. The squad would love to see this!”

*Keep your expression relaxed, and smile.*

*Like this…?*

Holcus tried his best to hide his annoyance about Naban’s earlier use of “lord,” but forced a smile.

“Should I get a camera?”

“Erica, Holcus, don’t do anything unnecessary. Especially don’t tell Selford and Arin.”

Selford would certainly tease her endlessly

, and Arin… well, that was a whole other risk.

*Maybe I should sneak a photo… I could sell it to Arin for a good price.*

Erica, remembering her friend Arin’s fondness for collecting “Evelyn memorabilia,” considered the idea seriously.

“But where’s Theo?”

“Oh! My son is…”

Just then,

“I should have a word with the butler. A cripple shouldn’t be spoiling a fine social event like this!”

Evelyn turned, only to freeze in place.

It was Wolfgang.

Memories she thought she’d buried and forgotten surfaced, haunting her.

*Hey, girl. Do you really think your captain can protect you?*

*Don’t be ridiculous. The world listens to me, not you.*

*If you want to live like a pathetic cripple, suit yourself.*

*It seems you can’t hide that filthy blood of yours.*

The cruel face of Wolfgang overlapped with the man in front of her.

“A cripple should know her place and stay at home. Who let you wander around here? And what’s with that arm?”

Wolfgang sneered, reaching out to touch her prosthetic arm.

Suddenly, a hand seized Wolfgang’s wrist mid-motion.

“You must not have learned your lesson from last time. I told you, lay another hand on my pupil, and I wouldn’t let it slide. Have you forgotten, or is it dementia?”

Both Wolfgang and Evelyn looked toward the voice.

Julius stood there, his eyes cold and menacing.

“Do you need another beating, Elder?”