"The Folt family—they've completely collapsed. Was that your doing, by any chance?"

"?"

"Hmm, I suppose not."

"I didn’t even say anything yet…."

"One look at your face is enough to know. That’s a refreshingly straightforward expression, befitting a true knight. Hahaha."

"…Hey, old man, that wasn’t a compliment, was it?"

"Hahaha."

The Folt family. To be precise, it was only Raynol Folt, his wife, and their one remaining daughter. They barely deserved to be called nobility, and as people, they were contemptible.

"I looked for them, but they seem to have vanished. Do you know anything about that?"

Over the past week, Ihan had been searching for the Folt family. More specifically, he was hunting Raynol Folt—the beast who could only masquerade as a person. But Raynol was nowhere to be found, and Ihan was growing increasingly frustrated. So when the marquis dropped this hint, Ihan’s curiosity was piqued.

The marquis shrugged nonchalantly under Ihan’s questioning gaze.

"Just a little curiosity led me to investigate. According to our inquiries, Raynol Folt only had one daughter—so why did it suddenly become two? And just five years ago, at that. Quite curious, wouldn’t you say? Not only did he gain a daughter out of nowhere, but he also tried to marry her into a marquisate. What audacity, as if he thought Tristan would be easy to fool."

"So? What are you going to do about it?"

"Do about it? I’m going to let him know exactly why Tristan has endured as a marquisate for centuries, that’s what."

Though his lips held a smile, his eyes did not.

They were the eyes of a predator—sharp, intense, and unwavering. If a civilian met those eyes, they’d likely tremble in fear.

However...

"You trying to start a staring contest with me?"

"……."

"If not, ease up. I’d rather not throw an axe at a guest."

"Just teasing you a bit, heh."

The marquis's eyes softened, as though he’d simply been playing a harmless prank on someone he found interesting.

"If I took a liking to someone once or twice, I’d end up killing them," Ihan scoffed, clicking his tongue. "These nobles, honestly."

It was like testing people was just a habit for them.

‘Is this what they call the butterfly effect?’

Ihan was genuinely surprised at how quickly the marquis had discovered details about the Folt family.

‘In the original story that Taechang and Derrick talked about, this wouldn’t have come to light so soon.’

According to what Derrick had shared of the original storyline, Ihan’s disciple was supposed to be married off and endure three years in the marquisate. In other words, the fraud against the Tristan family wasn’t exposed until after the marriage. But now, things were different.

Whether it was due to his conflict with the marquis or the marquis’s inherent competence, the deception had been uncovered in mere days. And it seemed...

"My girl has nothing to do with any of this. She was merely used. Don’t you dare touch her."

The marquis had likely discerned Revi’s true identity as well. Realizing this, Ihan’s expression hardened. His resolve was clear: if anyone so much as laid a hand on her, he would tear down more than just doors.

"I’m aware."

"?"

"A knight as honorable as you wouldn’t go out of his way to save a girl if she were some deceitful villain. So, of course, she was just being used."

"…And you trust that? Just like that?"

"It’s not ‘just like that.’ I trust you."

"……."

"So yes, I believe her."

"Hmm."

He’d thought it before, but...

‘This is probably the most respectable nobleman I’ve met.’

…This old man was, surprisingly, a decent person.

 

"To cut to the chase, Raynol Folt… he’s currently in a temple, barely clinging to life. His body is covered in burns, his left arm and both ankles have been severed, and they say even his tongue was cut out. They found him too late for proper treatment, so he’s just barely surviving, heh."

The burns were bad enough, but the other injuries were severe. With the temple’s help, he was alive, though at the cost of accruing debt. The temple’s healing methods were effective, but they were notorious for demanding their payment in full.

Rumor had it that to recover a debt, they’d even send people to work in mines or salt fields if necessary.

"The wife and daughter haven’t fared much better. His wife is drowning in temple fees, gambling debts, and additional loans. And the daughter? She was expelled from the academy she was attending. So yes, things don’t look promising for them."

The mother and daughter’s future seemed bleak as well.

It was unclear whether they had tormented Revi as much as Raynol had, but ultimately, Revi and the Folts were eternally at odds. They could not live under the same sky.

"Those women have few choices left. Either they end up in a convent or make the worst of all choices. It hardly matters, really—I’ll make sure they have limited options."

"Oh? I thought you were kind to women."

"I am kind to ladies. But those who condoned and enabled such acts share in the blame. Do you think they were oblivious to the fact that their head of household was openly deceiving and dishonoring a marquisate? Of course not. So they’re no ladies. A criminal’s gender is irrelevant."

"Well said."

Clap, clap.

Ihan clapped, appreciating the marquis’s refreshing perspective.

Now that was a proper example of an adult and a leader.

"…You’re suddenly a bit too approving; it feels strange."

The marquis scratched his cheek, puzzled by Ihan’s unexpected admiration, especially from someone who had shown him nothing but disrespect.

Still...

"Haha, I can’t say I dislike it!"

Unable to hold back, the marquis laughed heartily.

The two men continued their conversation, laughing and discussing what to do with Raynol, with most of the talk revolving around…

"There’s a method called ‘bone and flesh separation’—basically, you peel the flesh from the bones without killing the person. Think it’s worth a try if he’s still alive?"

"Haha, but what if he dies from the shock? Better to start with torture using anesthetics and potions. Skin him daily, drain some blood, then use anesthetics and potions to keep him alive. In wartime, we made prisoners remember their third birthday with that method, hahaha!"

Their debate centered on how to inflict torture without causing death, and as they discussed it, a strange camaraderie blossomed between them. It was a moment of friendship—of sorts—between two men, regardless of age.

Eventually, though…

"Now, back to the main topic. Why do you want to take my girl as your daughter?"

"Ah, that." The marquis cleared his throat, realizing he had gotten sidetracked. "In all the excitement, I nearly forgot."

He took a moment to gather his thoughts, recognizing the seriousness of the matter.

Adopting a girl he’d only just met wasn’t a decision to make lightly; it required genuine sincerity.

"Let me be clear—I’m not taking her in because of you. If anything, it’s because it would be a waste not to."

"A waste?"

"Her talent, I mean. It would be a waste of potential—she could become an exceptional knight."

The marquis spoke with a calculated perspective.

"I heard from my sources that she’s been learning the sword for less than three months. Yet, with only three months of training, she managed to defeat a stone troll and held her ground against a horde of monsters. Never thought I’d hear heroic tales from my men as if it were a legend, but… after verifying, it’s all true."

"……."

"…Her talent is real. And such potential shouldn’t be buried because of her ‘status’ and ‘background.’ If she could become the next Sir Felicia, I can’t just stand by."

An heir to the Sword Saint, a child who could one day be a legend. Raising her within Tristan would only add honor to their name, so the marquis, after weighing the pros and cons...

"—Your real reason?"

"……."

"Skip the fancy talk. Just tell me the truth."

"Hmm, I thought I’d hidden it well, but I guess not."

"Oh, you hid it well. I just happen to be good at spotting lies."

"A talent I’d love to have…"

The marquis observed Ihan like one would a rare animal, then, after a five-second silence, finally admitted,

"…Isn’t it pitiful?"

"……."

"I know how shallow sympathy can be and how it can degrade people. But if no one takes her in, she’ll be an orphan with nowhere to go. Knowing that, why shouldn’t someone lend a hand? Of course, you could take her in yourself, but I can offer her a wealthier life."

"……."

"Do you find that reason too shallow?"

"…No. In fact, I like it better than your first reason."

"Hm?"

"It’s only those who are well-off who view sympathy as an insult. For those truly desperate, even sympathy can be precious."

He remembered watching TV dramas where prideful characters rejected help out of self-respect. As someone who had grown up as an orphan, he’d always found it absurd.

Real humiliation isn’t about worrying over tomorrow. It’s when you can’t find food or water for today, when you shiver with a cold because you don’t even have a blanket, when you’re so broke you can’t afford medicine for a fever.

For those who understand true hardship, sympathy is not shameful—it’s a lifeline.

"When life is so miserable and disgusting that it makes you want to die, and someone tells you not to feel sympathy… that person isn’t really suffering. But my girl? She’s not in a position to care about pride or what sympathy means. If you offer her this, she’ll be grateful."

It was, in a word, salvation.

There was a quiet conviction in Ihan’s tone that no rallying cry could match. It was the conviction of someone who understood the deepest humiliation and loneliness.

"…Heh."

The marquis was genuinely impressed, though Ihan, oblivious to this, continued,

"I did consider taking her in myself, but a poor knight can only do so much. She’d benefit from a more comfortable life, so… go ahead, take her. Though convincing her will be up to you."

"……."

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"…The more I look, the more tempted I am."

"?"

"I was already wavering, but… young man, would you perhaps consider—"

"—calling me Father?"

"……."

…It took all of Ihan’s willpower not to curse out loud.