# Chapter 162
—
Cain Dormund drained his glass.
The acrid liquor scorched his throat as if it were aflame.
Forcing himself to endure the searing burn, Cain emptied the cup at last.
Then, with a slow motion, he poured the remaining liquor onto the grave.
*Splash—!*
The ownerless grave was drenched in alcohol.
Cain collapsed before it, bowing his head low.
In that instant, an unbearable weariness and emptiness struck his chest like a hammer.
Enduring the throbbing pain, he muttered under his breath.
“…It will all be over soon.”
The Empire’s expedition had ended in complete success, and as planned, the Second Prince, Khan Madrid, was made Crown Prince.
The Dormund family, in return, was granted the title of the Empire’s Guardian House.
Everything he had schemed for had been brought to completion.
If no unexpected variable arose, his name—and Dormund’s—would be carved into history.
And yet, why?
His chest throbbed as though being torn apart.
Even though he had seized everything others coveted beyond measure, he was left with an even deeper thirst.
Cain let out a bitter laugh, muttering.
“…Let me go now, son.”
“……”
“I did everything I could… Will you even drag your father down with you?”
The grave gave no reply.
Enraged, Cain ripped his sword from its sheath.
“I scoured the entire continent to find you!”
“……”
“And still unsatisfied, I even touched forbidden magic! Yet I never found you!”
Breathing heavily through his nose, Cain slashed his blade down in fury.
The strike of a swordsman on the cusp of transcendence tore through the air.
*Shhhk—!*
Cain’s brow twitched.
Even after his outburst, the grave remained silent.
A hollow laugh escaped him as he collapsed to the ground.
The sword slipped feebly from his hand, clattering along the dirt.
Cain shut his eyes and wept.
“Ahh… my son.”
“……”
“Seven years have passed since you died, and still you torment me.”
His son—who had died without leaving even a corpse—what was he trying to say?
What grudge bound him so tightly that he haunted his father so relentlessly?
If only he would speak, Cain would help resolve that grudge. But the empty grave remained mute.
And it always would.
Realizing this, Cain roared his anguish skyward.
Then, suddenly, the words of his master, Khan Madrid, came to mind:
*\[If you wish to see your son again, bring me the awakened bloodline of Bayern.]*
Cain froze, then muttered, almost laughing.
“Ha… I must be losing my mind.”
What was this “Bayern bloodline,” that it could promise his son’s return?
No matter how rare a lineage, blood was just blood, was it not?
Yet at the same time, another thought struck him.
His master, Khan Madrid, had long obsessed over the Bayern bloodline.
A man who had everything in the world, who stood in a position of absolute power, and yet fixated on this one thing—mere blood.
‘Then… doesn’t that mean it must be worth that much?’
Cain’s eyes flashed.
It was a possibility.
His master, Khan Madrid, was a god.
By the radiance of that god, Cain had risen to this height.
So, perhaps this time too, it would be worth believing him.
‘In any case, everything is ready.’
This week would be the engagement ceremony of his youngest son and the daughter of the Bayern family.
Once that ceremony concluded, the last surviving Bayern would fall into his hands.
If his master’s words were true, he could use her to awaken the Bayern bloodline. If not, then he would simply consume the Bayern family entirely.
‘Either way… soon, everything will be decided.’
Cain rose to his feet, his decision made.
“…I’ll be back, son.”
“……”
“When I return… much will have changed.”
The grave gave no answer this time either.
Cain had not expected one. Turning away, he left the burial ground.
It was only two days before the engagement that would decide everything.
—
—
Irene thought to herself.
Why had her life become so twisted?
As she searched for the answer, it came to her easily.
‘It all began when Brother… when Arthur Bayern disappeared.’
To others, he was the mute lordling, scorned and mocked.
But to her, he had been kinder than anyone.
The one who protected her in place of their father.
When that person vanished, everything began to unravel.
‘Mother grew weaker with each day, and Dormund’s obsession deepened.’
Cain Dormund slowly gnawed away at their house from the outside.
He pulled one or two allied nobles to his side. Then he struck at Bayern’s businesses.
A noble house, stripped of connections and wealth, could not maintain power no matter its honor.
Piece by piece, Bayern crumbled, until the final blow: her mother.
Yonel Bayern collapsed.
Since Arthur’s disappearance, her health had steadily declined—but then her illness suddenly worsened.
With the family’s last pillar faltering, Cain Dormund bared his hidden claws.
He moved to seize every business, every source of income—eventually even Bayern’s domain itself.
With its master gone, Bayern could only watch helplessly.
The absence of a leader’s decision was fatal.
So Irene became heir to the ducal house.
‘If I wanted to protect Mother and my people, I had no choice but to take that seat.’
Her resolve stalled Cain’s ambition for a time.
But an unprepared heir could do little.
When their lands and holdings again faced ruin, Cain Dormund offered a poisoned chalice:
*\[Marry my third son, Bill Dormund, and I will return everything.]*
She had no other choice.
If she wished to protect her family and her ailing mother now, she had to accept.
‘I can’t let Mother be cast into the streets.’
She told herself the only thing she could offer was her body—and agreed.
But she could not stop her tears.
“Kehek… Irene—!”
Bill Dormund.
Her betrothed.
Since her brother’s disappearance, he had stared at her with lecherous eyes.
That chilling gaze had scarred her deeply—and now, in only days, she was to be engaged to him.
Barely clinging to sanity, Irene whispered:
“…Brother. What would you have done?”
No answer came.
So she wept endlessly.
A crushing loneliness closed around her, as though she were the last person left in the world.
Just as her spirit began to fray under that solitude, a letter arrived.
*\[Arthur Bayern is alive.]*
In her crumbling world, a single ray of light fell.
—
—
The engagement of the two houses was officially announced.
Dormund, now the Empire’s ruling power.
Bayern, the family of longest noble lineage.
An engagement destined for history brought a flood of nobles to the ceremony.
“Hoho… to think I’d live to see such a day.”
“Indeed. Bayern and Dormund, joined in marriage!”
“With their powers combined, no house could dare oppose them. After all, it’s Bayern *and* Dormund.”
The nobles gossiped eagerly.
Anna, watching them, pouted her lips and muttered.
“Combine forces, my foot.”
“……”
“These days, I suppose forced marriages under threats count as alliances. Isn’t that right, my lady?”
Snapped from her daze, Irene nodded belatedly.
“Ah, yes… That’s right.”
“…My lady?”
“…Yes?”
“Don’t worry too much.”
“…?”
Irene blinked.
Anna’s voice trembled, as if she might cry, as she comforted her.
“Even if this engagement is born of Dormund’s vile schemes, it will be only for a while.”
“……”
“When the Duke rises again, everything will return as it was. So please… just endure a little longer. I’ll be by your side.”
Irene faltered.
It was warm comfort—but Anna seemed to have misunderstood.
‘…It isn’t that my heart is heavy.’
Rather, a strange anticipation swelled inside her.
She thought of the letter left on her desk the night before.
*\[Arthur Bayern is alive.]*
Just one line.
Yet the shock it gave her was indescribable.
‘Brother… alive?’
But how?
Seven years ago, Yonel and Bayern had searched the entire continent for him.
They had not found a trace—not even the smallest clue.
And now, suddenly, he lived?
Irene bit her nail, whispering.
‘Could it be a cruel joke?’
She shook her head.
Who would dare play such a joke on the daughter of a ducal house?
Not even Cain Dormund would stoop so low.
Just as she wrestled with doubt, an unfamiliar voice rang out.
“My lady. It has been too long, hasn’t it?”
Startled, Irene looked up.
Before her stood a man with radiant golden hair and skin bronzed by the sun.
She blinked, then cried out.
“Brother Leon—!”
Once the Empire’s Seventh Prince, now infamous as its greatest womanizer, Leon smiled brightly at her call.
—
—
Anna, unable to hide her delight, exclaimed.
“Your Highness! When did you arrive?”
Leon chuckled warmly as he greeted her.
“Oh! Anna! That smile of yours shines as beautifully as ever. Have you been well?”
“I’m always the same. And you, Your Highness?”
“Of course. So well, in fact, I’ve grown a belly this big.”
Anna laughed.
“A belly, on the Empire’s greatest womanizer? That hardly suits you.”
“Oh, womanizer, you wound me. Call me instead a lone wolf, forever in search of love.”
His shameless line made Anna laugh again.
Watching them, Irene’s eyes lit up.
‘Brother Leon… still so dazzling.’
His flowing golden hair, sun-kissed skin, and bold, striking features—no man could compare.
Unconsciously, she smiled at him.
‘You came… I feared your duties would keep you away.’
Leon was one of the few remaining friends of Bayern.
Seven years ago, when Arthur vanished and the world turned its back, Leon Madrid alone remained.
He had introduced himself as Arthur’s closest friend, even his senior at Arcane University.
Neither Irene nor Yonel had known that the solitary Arthur had such a friend.
Seven years had passed since that bond was forged.
Through that time, Leon had supported House Bayern as best he could, and Irene had come to treat him like a brother in Arthur’s stead.
‘…If not for his complicated affairs with women, he’d be truly perfect.’
As she smiled, Leon, chatting with Anna, suddenly stiffened.
“…Hmph.”
“…?”
“Feels like I’ve stirred up some dangerous misunderstanding… That’s bad.”
Puzzled, Irene asked,
“What do you mean, Brother Leon?”
He waved it off.
“Nothing. Just that some madman seems to have taken the wrong idea.”
“…?”
She blinked.
Leon chuckled despite himself—when suddenly, the voice of Bayern’s knight, Haruden, thundered across the hall.
“Lord Cain Dormund enters—!”
Irene’s face hardened.
‘…The time has come.’
With the arrival of the day’s true host, there was no turning back.
She was about to be engaged to Bill Dormund, the Empire’s greatest fool.
She bit her lip unconsciously.
Then, before she realized it, Leon had drawn close and whispered.
“My lady. Do not abandon hope. Everything will soon turn out well.”
Her eyes widened.
“What… do you mean, Brother Leon?”
“The letter from last night. You received it, did you not?”
“…!”
Irene’s jaw dropped in shock.
Leon smiled.
“The time has come. Bayern will rise again.”
With that, he slipped away, leaving her to be ushered by attendants to the high table.
As Irene moved to her seat, Leon turned his gaze.
There stood Cain Dormund, surrounded by nobles.
Leon’s lips curved into a smirk.
“Hm… the cast is assembled. Now the play may begin.”
His eyes glinted.
“So be ready, Arthur Bayern. Your return—let us make it a grand one.”
—
