"What do you need?" the Greytower Grand Duke asked without hesitation, "Kind little Hydra, what must I do for you to remain neutral in Scarletfrost?"
Anselm did not become arrogant or complacent due to the Greytower Grand Duke's change in attitude, his tone remained gentle and polite: "Firstly, regarding Viscount Lundbeck..."
"His soul will soon return to his body," the Greytower Grand Duke said with a friendly expression, as if the person who had just denied any connection to the two viscounts was not him at all.
"Your Gr—"
The poor Howlingwinds Viscount had barely uttered a word before he inexplicably lost his voice, even though he opened his mouth wide and strained his neck until the veins bulged, his cries were merely silent and feeble struggles.
Seeing this, Sitana was both amazed by the Greytower Grand Duke's methods and genuinely annoyed by the two individuals who were chatting and laughing, completely disregarding the viscount as a human being.
"And then, Scarletfrost's 'harvest' this year, will belong to me."
"..." The Greytower Grand Duke's expression remained unchanged, but he fell silent for a moment, then quickly chuckled, "I have no objection to that, but young Hydra..."
He said meaningfully, "With only a group of maids and a butler by your side, are you confident you can 'swallow' this year's harvest?"
Scarletfrost , which had caused two grand dukes to vie for it, certainly had its unique aspects.
The young Hydra smiled and said, "I believe you already have the answer in your heart, and that's why you orchestrated this farce, isn't it?"
He turned to look at the furious Howlingwinds Viscount and sighed, "Poor Viscount, did you really think that the Grand Duke reached out to you just to help you, or to take revenge on me?"
Anselm shook his head, compassionately and regretfully stripping the Howlingwinds Viscount of his last shred of dignity and sanity:
"He just wanted to use you to test what kind of hidden cards I, who seemed to have not relied on any external forces, actually possess—do you have the answer now, Grand Duke?"
The young man looked at the kindly smiling old man in the projected image with a half-smile: "Is it the Head of Wind, the Head of Darkness, or the Head of Spirits? Which of the Heads did I borrow from my father?"
"Haha... about that, young Hydra, we must be careful with our words."
"You're right, I was just joking."
The old man and the young man burst into laughter together, their camaraderie evident, but it made Sitana feel physically uncomfortable watching them.
"Then, I won't waste any more of your time," Anselm stood up and bowed slightly to the formidable Grand Duke of the Northern Lands, "May you make further progress on the long path of seeking truth, Your Grace."
"You too, young Hydra."
The old man nodded with a smile, ending the communication.
And so, the farce came to an end.
"…It, it's over?" Sitana looked at Anselm suspiciously, feeling that something was amiss.
She felt like she had missed something very important, from the beginning until now... something seemed to have been overlooked.
What exactly was it?
It was not until that evening that Sitana finally figured it out.
*
"So the old butler was behind all of those things?!"
At the dining table, Sitana, having removed her collar, sat across from Anselm, unable to believe her ears as she exclaimed, "No wonder he disappeared as soon as we got here. How could he be so capable, taking care of everything from setting up the recording crystal to finding the dungeon under the castle, and even freeing those poor people who were locked up and tortured by that sicko noble..."
"That's why the guards never came to rescue him, because that bastard Howlingwinds Viscount is such a freak that he hired the victims' family and friends to work for him! I was wondering why a noble would be so generous... even the guards were commoners, not just the maids. Damn it, I should've just done it myself and snapped that bastard's legs by my own hands!"
The young girl angrily waved her knife and fork, stabbed a piece of steak, and stuffed it into her mouth, chewing fiercely.
"Hydra, who is the old butler really?" Sitana asked with her mouth full of munching munching sound, "What's his rank? And those 'Heads' you mentioned, what's that all about?"
Anselm wiped the corner of his mouth and glanced at Sitana, whose eyes were sparkling: "Swallow your food before you speak."
"…So many rules," the girl muttered unhappily, taking several bites of the steak before gulping it down.
"Can you tell me now?" She leaned forward, eager to know.
"You're not qualified to know about these things yet," Anselm replied slowly, "You're still a long way from reaching Savile's level. Get a good night's rest and try not to overthink things."
"This is not allowed, that is not allowed... But you can at least tell me what happened to those two viscounts in the end, right?"
Sitana crossed her arms, looking displeased: "I don't know what that Lundbeck Viscount did, but since he was buddies with Howlingwinds, that piece of trash, he's definitely no good either. What exactly did you do to them?"
The young Hydra leaned back in his chair, fingers interlaced, smiling brightly at Sitana: "Are you sure you want to know?"
"Of course I..."
Meeting Anselm's somewhat unsettling gaze, Sitana shivered slightly and averted her eyes: "Whatever, just as long as you didn't cover for them. You've got the guts to kill the Scarletfrost Earl, so those two jerks shouldn't be a big deal to you."
She put down her knife and fork, picking up the collar on the table: "Also, you promised me that after we return, I can read anything in your study."
Anselm reminded her: "The condition is—"
"The condition is I can't damage any books, and I gotta put them back where they belong after I'm done. Gotcha."
The snow-haired girl stood up, muttering unhappily: "As if I'm some kind of wild boar trashing around everywhere."
Really, no matter how you look at it, this jerk is just so damn annoying.
With that thought, Sitana grabbed the collar and left Anselm's bedroom.
"Young Master," Savile appeared behind Anselm like a ghost once again, "Is this truly alright? I fear that it may be too dangerous for Miss Sitana."
"If, even after eliminating all the unstable factors, she still fails to pass the trial."
Anselm said with a smile: "Then why should I value her so much?"
"Because you have truly devoted considerable effort into her,"
The fact that Savile, a loyal and shrewd old butler, was advising Anselm meant that he genuinely believed the final trial Anselm had prepared for Sitana was... too difficult.
"That means she won't fail, Savile."
Facing fate itself, Hydra gazed out the window at the moonlit night, whispering words that Savile couldn't understand:
"And if she really dies like that, I would be… overjoyed."
"If only things were that simple, wouldn't it be wonderful?"
*
Arriving at her small room, Sitana threw herself onto the bed, reflecting on everything that had happened today.
Anselm's teachings were challenging her understanding of the world and herself; she had never known true beyonder battle, nor had she imagined that fighting could take such a form.
There was no savagery or brute force, just precise, cold, and flawless calculation.
Sitana didn't like this approach, but she very much agreed with one thing —it was essential to understand, not necessarily to be able to easily see through everything like Anselm, but at least to know how to deal with all those chaotic elements, rather than standing there like an idiot taking hits.
"Ah... that's gonna mean a crapload of reading, what a pain."
The young girl turned over, her eyes gradually drooping: "I'll think about it in a few days... yawn... later..."
As her eyelids finally closed and her eyelashes stopped quivering—
The second hand in the room's clock ceased to move.
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