The Desmond family returned from the hospital incident, taking places on the cushy sofa with heavy expressions.

It was 7 PM.

Dinner time was approaching, but the three of them made no move to eat.

Olivia, fidgeting with her fingers, glanced at Darbav’s serious face and ventured a question,

“Daddy, is brother going to jail?”

“No, he isn’t.”

Olivia turned her doubtful eyes to Kyle, who sat to Darbav’s left. Kyle’s clothes were in disarray from his confrontation with the green-haired enigma at the hospital.

With feigned calm, Olivia carefully asked Kyle,

“Are you going to jail, brother?”

“…No, I’m not.”

“Why?”

“… Would you like it if I did?”

“No.”

Olivia shook her head, clearly hoping that her brother wouldn’t be eating prison food,

“You hate beans, brother.”

“That’s right.”

“Then you shouldn’t go.”

Kyle’s eyes grew moist with gratitude for his sister’s concern, remembering her preferences. Even as picky with food as she was, she remembered what he disliked.

Anyone would be proud to have a brother like him, Kyle thought.

“What do you want, little sister?”

Olivia answered without hesitation,

“A chocolate palace.”

“…”

“Can’t do that?”

Kyle immediately regretted his words.

“Sorry.”

Surely, the scale of the chocolate palace he imagined and the one Olivia envisioned were drastically different. Thinking he’d have to earn more money, Kyle nodded bitterly.

“I’ll give you money instead.”

“…You’re so cool, brother.”

Olivia was filled with admiration for Kyle.

“So, what happened?”

“What are you referring to?”

“The fight.”

Excitement flickered in Olivia’s eyes. She hadn’t witnessed the brawl between Kyle and the green-haired guy—Ruin.

Today, Kyle had quietly stood next to Ruin in the hospital, linking arms and going outside. Not only had Olivia missed the action, but so had her father, Darbav, who was equally regretful for not witnessing the encounter.

It seemed like a gentlemanly conversation had taken place, leaving Olivia a bit concerned.

“Did you lose?”

Kyle showed Olivia his fist, with a small cut. Olivia focused on the minuscule wound, tilting her head slightly before responding dejectedly,

“You lost…”

Kyle firmly corrected Olivia’s misguided assumption. The idea of the Desmond family, known as the empire’s brawlers, losing was preposterous.

Kyle reassured her with a voice full of pride,

“Brother never loses, Olivia.”

“Then, you won?”

“Yes.”

Kyle wore a slight smile as he briefed Olivia about today’s opponent, the green-haired Ruin—a foe neither too strong nor too feeble.

In common parlance: A mediocre contender.

“He said his name was Ruin.”

“I know him.”

“You do?”

“Yes. He used to buy me pastries at school. Liked getting into fights too.”

“…?”

Questions arose in Kyle’s mind, but he didn’t bother asking. Ruin didn’t seem to have any close ties to Olivia.

Had there been a connection, some recognition would have been shown. However, Kyle remembered Ruin had been too busy avoiding their gaze.

With no apparent link to consider, Kyle didn’t dwell on it any further.

He spoke about the fight.

Olivia looked at him with pride in her eyes, while Kyle, beaming, shared his version of the day’s events.

“He was a pyromancer. Talented despite his youth.”

“A disciple of the Tower Master.”

Darbav, listening quietly, nodded and promised to handle any repercussions, suggesting it had worked out for the best.

“We might just get to fling meteors at the Tower Master’s face now.”

“Dad, is it war?”

“No, it’s only an expression.”

It was Darbav’s succinct way to express satisfaction at triumphing over a rival—a sentiment from the tower competition.

Kyle, speaking of the fight with Ruin, painted it as a most gentlemanly affair,

“I asked him why he was cutting in line.”

“And then?”

“He said he was in a hurry and asked if he could go ahead.”

“Oh…”

“He claimed to know the doctor and didn’t make reservations. Quite a brazen excuse.”

“And then?”

“I threw a punch.”

Kyle was proud to recount how they had settled their dispute with fists rather than magic.

The picture of two mages resorting to a primitive showdown pleased Darbav, who nodded in apparent approval,

“True men settle things with their fists.”

Towards the end, Kyle disparaged Ruin for resorting to magic, calling him cowardly.

“That’s cowardly. Like master, like disciple.”

“But I still emerged victorious.”

“Of course… my son. The future of the Desmonds is bright.”

Kyle gazed at his fist, muttering under his breath with pride, “A man’s worth is in his fists….”

Although the battle would have been decidedly in his favor even if it came down to magic, Kyle had chosen a more primal method to claim victory against Ruin, the line-cutter.

Darbav also showed a sense of satisfied pride seeing his son’s scar.

“You’ve grown, my son.”

“I’m simply emulating you, father.”

“Haha, you flatter me.”

Rosanna, watching the warm-hearted exchange between the father and son, massaged her throbbing forehead.

“Ugh…! Self-congratulations all around!”

“To think you’ve turned out just like your father. Isn’t that right?!”

As Darbav hung his head sheepishly, muttering that it should be considered a compliment, Rosanna slapped his back with a sigh,

“Spare me, you bunch of enemies!”

With a stern look, Kyle addressed Rosanna,

“Mother, you had quite the temperament in your youth as an adventurer, didn’t you? Even renowned as ‘Red Gauntlet’…”

“Quiet. Those days are a black history I’d rather forget.”

“I’m proud of you, mother.”

“… ..”

Rosanna shook her head.

After a brief silence, she addressed her gathered family,

“So, what’s the reason you called us all here?”

Rosanna had been in the middle of preparing dinner when she was summoned by Darbav, causing her to pause her task.

Urging Darbav to hurry so she could resume dinner preparations, he responded with a somewhat serious tone,

“There’s something I need to discuss.”

“A discussion?”

“Yes, a very important one.”

Lowering his voice, Darbav said,

“What’s for dinner tonight?”

Another thwack landed on Darbav’s back.

*

Having escorted Yuria back to her dormitory, I now trekked back to the estate, stretching contentedly, satisfied with the fulfilling day.

“Yawn… I’m beat.”

Conversations with Yuria were more enjoyable than anticipated.

Neither awkward nor burdened by heavy topics, I was genuinely pleased throughout our discussions.

Hearing about the events within the novel from the perspective of Yuria herself was intriguing.

She shared her emotions on occurrences during my absence from the Royal Academy—details that weren’t available in the story, giving me the thrill of a reader’s excitement for the first time in a long while.

And, of course, chatting with a pretty girl was a bonus. Not as pretty as the young lady, but pleasant to the eyes, nonetheless.

It was now 7:30 PM.

As I beheld the family estate in the distance, a shiver ran through me.

“Nothing happened, right?”

I felt secure about Kyle, but Olivia and Lord Desmond were not as reliable, stirring concern within me.

‘I just hope everything goes smoothly until I return to the estate…’

It was a minor wish, but given the young lady’s track record of granting none such, I sighed and continued toward the estate.

Life in the capital was nearing its end.

Only about three days left.

In three days’ time, construction on the estate would finish, and the lord’s birthday would be behind us. The thought of returning home to catch up on delayed chores darkened my mood a bit, but the prospect of returning home after so long brought a small smile to my lips.

A journey that started with the young lady’s driving mishaps.

Having harbored many concerns, the trip turned out rather meaningful, enabling me to untangle relationships not only with the entangled Desmond family but also with Yuria. While not resolved perfectly, our softened relations offered a reprieve from the frustrations I had carried.

The street lamps shone brightly, illuminating the dark path ahead.

The densely placed street lamps in the capital made even solo walks less intimidating.

I was a coward at heart, scared of ghosts and dark places, but the patrolling guards and bright light of the lamps put me at ease.

‘I’ll have to date the young lady tomorrow.’

Contemplating the end of the lengthy trip, I walked towards the estate when a familiar male voice called from behind,

“Ricardo.”

As I saw his face, I bowed lightly,

“Lord Kyle.”

Kyle stood there, looking at me with a slightly heavy expression,

“We need to talk a moment.”

“About Olivia.”

In Kyle’s hand was a small piece of paper.

[Olivia’s Medical Report]