Can We Become Family?

Chapter 4

Nikan, seized by a fury he had never before unleashed on his son, struck Eudes’ face with a resounding slap. The strike did nothing to quell his anger. “Have you completely lost your mind?” he thundered.

Naviah was no ordinary child. The duke had meticulously chosen her to replace his chronically ill daughter, Vivian, and to eventually become empress and bear the next heir to the throne. Vivian suffered from mana reflux disease, a fatal condition affecting the children of magicians. The illness was characterized by unpredictable and deadly surges of mana energy, and no one with the condition had survived past the age of twenty. Naviah was brought in to serve as Vivian’s replacement, taking over her aspirations as future empress.

Nikan was overcome by irritation. Why would Eudes dare to create such a scene when the Agnus household is being watched so closely? The Agnus family was renowned for their sizable mines that produced high-quality mana stones, and their many adversaries were eagerly awaiting their downfall.

The empress, particularly, has her eyes set on our mines. Her family, the Lucias, were deeply involved in the magic train industry, which relied heavily on mana stones as a fuel source. Knowing this, Nikan struck a deal: He gave the empress sole rights to buy the mana stones his mines produced at a discounted rate, and his adopted daughter would become poised to be the future empress.

But the fact that Naviah was only of common birth, and not a true noble, posed a significant risk. The impersonation of nobility carried grave repercussions. If the royal family were to discover such a lie, they would likely seize it as an opportunity to take control of the Agnus mines. Nikan could handle losing the mines, but the deeper issue of such a discovery was the extensive measures he had taken to conceal the girl’s true background.

He had orchestrated the demise of other children at Naviah’s orphanage through a series of “accidents” and “illnesses.” The orphanage director, now employed as a vassal, was slowly being poisoned in order to guarantee his ultimate silence. If the full extent of the duke’s heinous acts were to be uncovered, the loss of the mines would pale in comparison to the retribution he would face.

But they won’t uncover the truth, Nikan reassured himself, confident in his ability to engineer an airtight scheme. He had carefully established multiple layers of protection, ensuring the crimes would never be traced back to him. He was prepared to shift the blame onto others if need be.

This train of thought helped him to regain some control over his anger. However, another issue loomed large in his mind: There was a sense of unrest growing among the younger nobles, particularly regarding class discrimination. It would reflect poorly on the Agnus family if it became known that Naviah, ostensibly the daughter of a lesser noble, was being mistreated due to her adoptive status. Such a scandal would undoubtedly attract the attention of the family’s critics who were eager to label the grand nobility as corrupt.

Low-class trash. Nikan held nothing but contempt for the progressive young nobles. He wanted nothing more than to rid himself of them, but he knew that even a crushed insect might still be able to wriggle in resistance. If this fire shifts attention to our household, it will significantly complicate matters. The incident had already drawn more notice than he had hoped for. These servants, although employees of the Agnus family, might not be entirely loyal. He knew he had to quickly diffuse the situation.

“What kind of disgraceful behavior is this, Eudes? And toward your sister?”

“Father...” Eudes, stunned by the unexpected slap, was nearly speechless.

“And you dared to set fire to the mansion? Phillipa! How could you have let this happen?”

Phillipa, who had nurtured Eudes as if he were her own son, broke down in sobs. Tears streamed down her face. “It’s all my fault, Your Grace. Forgive the young lord. Punish me instead, I beg you...”

Naviah, shivering slightly as she watched the scene unfold in front of her, felt a swirl of emotion. Being privy to the true sequence of events gave her a unique perspective. Phillipa, pleading on her knees, shot her a venomous look. Naviah had to suppress a laugh. In the past she might have tried to intervene, but this time she would do nothing. There was no longer any need to. The discord within the family, which had once caused her distress, was now only a novel source of amusement.

Eudes, nursing his stinging cheek, was momentarily taken aback. His bewildered face soon reddened with anger as he shouted, “I didn’t do it!” His protest was more than just a denial of having started the fire—when he locked Naviah in her room, he had never intended to harm her at all. But what was more infuriating was his father’s apparent defense of the girl, who he still believed to be the child of a lesser noble. “And so what if I did? She’s nothing more than a low-class wench, anyway!”

“Watch your tone!” Nikan snapped. He internally shared his son’s sentiments, but expressing them openly was a risk given the climate that surrounded them.

Eudes, unable to contain his fury, turned toward Naviah. “Go on, tell Father the truth. Was I the one who started the fire? If you dare lie, I’ll wring your neck!”

Naviah paused for a brief moment, regarding her enraged brother with a cool expression. He moved as if to grab her by the hair, then suddenly froze, a chill running down his spine. Wh-what’s this? The Naviah he knew was timid and submissive. Yet the girl locking eyes with him seemed profoundly different, nearly unrecognizable. She had been insignificant to him, but now she bore little resemblance to a delicate insect that could be easily squashed underfoot. Instead, she seemed to have transformed into a viper, fangs bared and ready to strike. Eudes gulped, unnerved by the sudden intensity of her gaze. It was a strange feeling, similar to the terror he had felt on his first encounter with the emperor—perhaps even surpassing it.

But before anyone else could notice the intimidation in her eyes, Naviah’s expression melted into one of fear and vulnerability. The change was so abrupt that Eudes began to almost doubt his own perception. The tension in her glare seemed to dissolve, leaving him to wonder if he had been seeing things. She now appeared as fragile and weak as she had always been. What just happened? Was it all my imagination? Eudes felt a fleeting sense of shame that he had ever felt such terror when looking at her.

“Y-you’re a disgusting petty noble!” He spat the words, anger evident on his face as his fist tightened. At this subtle gesture, Naviah visibly flinched. She crumpled to the floor, recoiling and cowering in fear. Her reaction drew the room’s attention to Eudes’ clenched hands.

In reality, the boy was too intimidated by his father’s piercing gaze to actually strike his adopted sister. However, Naviah’s reaction suggested otherwise, giving the impression that she knew he was indeed about to hit her. Her trembling body and the panicked way she looked about the room, eyes wide and filled with dread, conveyed a silent plea for help. Her quivering lips, tight with unspoken distress, garnered empathetic looks from those around her. But she refrained from crying out. Instead, she stayed kneeling on the floor, and with blank eyes began to beg Eudes for mercy.

“I must have been mistaken. I know you didn’t do it, Eudes.” Given the context of the situation, her words were hardly convincing. The onlookers seemed not to believe her—exactly as she had intended. They were now convinced of Eudes’ guilt. But she couldn’t stop there. She knew that most would disapprove of a minor mistake being too harshly punished, but how would they judge a punishment for a non-existent crime?

“I’m sorry, Brother. I’m so sorry!” She pounded her forehead on the rug in a display of extreme submission, mirroring the actions of a lowly servant. The dramatic display shocked everyone present. Gasps and sighs, followed by murmurs of disapproval, rippled through the air.

I’m sure Eudes is overjoyed to see me in such a state, she thought. Raising her eyes slightly, she caught sight of her brother wearing an arrogant smirk. Foolish boy.

With the exception of Eudes, everyone was alarmed, their mouths agape in horror. Naviah, however, felt no shame. She was willing to endure this humiliation countless times if necessary. She thought back to one freezing and windy winter day when she had been shut out of the mansion clad only in a thin slip. She spent hours kneeling outside, nearly naked in the penetrating cold. Her current situation was far from that level of hardship. I succumbed to frostbite and flu that time, she recalled, reflecting on the finale to her fifth regression.

“Stop!” Nikan’s booming voice abruptly cut into Naviah’s show of prostration. Her reddened forehead glowed beneath her strands of silver hair. In the ensuing silence, the duke let out a quiet sigh. It was as if he were trapped in a spiraling nightmare centered around his son. If only this were merely a dream, he thought, longing for the relief that would come upon awakening from the chaos. He resisted the urge to cradle his aching head and instead addressed the room with a composed and stern demeanor.

“It seems this incident has been quite traumatic for Naviah.” As he evaluated her actions, his demeanor warned against any contrary opinion. “Phillipa, pay her more attention for a while.”

“Yes, Your Grace...”

He then turned to his son, adopting the stern tone of a strict but fair father. “Eudes. I order you to confine yourself and reflect on what you’ve done!” This seemed like it would resolve the situation to an extent.

At the mention of “confinement,” Phillipa’s reaction was even more dramatic than Eudes’, as if she had taken a physical blow. “The young lord is only ten years old! This is much too harsh a punishment!”

“Silence!” Nikan’s voice rose in anger. “This never would have occurred had you had been properly supervising the children!”

“How can you say that to me?” Phillipa’s voice trembled in hurt and disbelief. It was an understandable reaction to his biting words. After all, she wasn’t a typical servant. She was of great value to the duke, with roots deep in the Agnus household, where she had been born and raised. Her own mother had served as Nikan’s nanny, and Phillipa had taken on the role of caring for the next generation of Agnus heirs.

Once during Nikan’s reckless youth, Phillipa had shielded him from a beating delivered by the previous Duke Agnus. The incident had left her with a prominent scar on her arm, a mark she wore as a symbol of honor and a testament to her loyalty. Nikan had always appreciated her for this unwavering devotion. But her inability to manage his son effectively, leading to this current fiasco, had left him disappointed.

Ignoring Phillipa’s visible distress, he shifted to another matter. “I want Naviah’s quarters moved to the third floor,” he ordered. A palpable change in energy rippled through the room. Eudes and Phillipa seemed particularly affected by the announcement.

“Father!” Eudes exclaimed.

“Your Grace, the third floor?” Phillipa echoed, equally stunned.

“Enough! I will not tolerate any argument.” Nikan’s warning was stern, silencing any further objections. He shot a disapproving look at Phillipa and then signaled to the butler.

“Please come with me, my lady.” The butler addressed Naviah and she followed with a slight nod, her movements deliberate and composed. As she made her way across the room, she felt the intense scrutiny of many pairs of eyes upon her. The implication was clear to all. The third floor was a place of high esteem within the Agnus household, and her sudden inclusion there held great significance.

Such a revered place, and all it took to gain entry was setting fire to my room, she mused. However, she understood there was more to this decision than simple kindness. Nikan seemed to be offering her a reparation, a bribe of disproportionately lavish proportions, commanding that she remain silent about the entire incident. He had no genuine concern for her at all. Naviah’s expression quickly grew cold.