The bed creaked violently against the stone wall, the maid choking on half-cried moans and muffled gasps. Lord Belford didn't care. He pounded into her like she was nothing—just another body to use, another distraction from the madness rotting behind his bloodshot eyes. Her fingers clawed at the sheets, lips trembling with fear and confusion. He grunted, breath hot and sour with wine, sweat dripping from his shoulders onto her skin. Her eyes burst out with tears.
"Shut the fuck up," he growled, slamming harder. "You're here to serve. That's all."
He finished with a final, punishing thrust. The girl whimpered beneath him, but he had already moved on. He yanked himself free without a glance back. Crossing the room stark naked, muscles tensed, his back scarred and pale under the darkness of night, he picked up his half-empty wine bottle from the floor, took one long drink—and hurled it at the wall with a roar.
Glass exploded into the stone, wine splattering like blood across the tapestries.
The door burst open. A maid stumbled in, eyes wide. "My lord! What happened?!"
Belford turned, completely bare, fists clenched at his sides. "You stupid, gawking bitch," he barked. "Get your coward-ass out of my sight and fetch Beldin. Now, or I swear I'll gut you and make stew from your fucking bones." The maid trembled, nodded, and fled down the hall.
Belford stood there, chest heaving, the stink of sex and fury still hanging in the air. His gaze burned toward the shattered bottle.
The shattered goblet still glittered on the stone floor when the chamber doors creaked open again. Heavy boots echoed as Beldin entered—broad-shouldered, calm-eyed, wrapped in a thick fur cloak.
"Your maid said you were screaming again," Beldin muttered, not even looking at the wreckage on Belford's naked figure. "I figured you'd either killed someone or spilled your wine. Looks like both."
"Where the fuck have you been??"
"I have my work to do," Beldin replied.
"What work?" Belford laughed with mockery. "Polishing your old man's shoes?"
"Recently a village in the east has been encountering hound attacks. Something you could remember if you weren't busy fucking every girl who looks your way."
"You are one to talk," Belford growled. "At least I don't pretend to care about this 'dying bloodline.'" That little maid lying on the bed, unconscious, tears still hanging in the corner of her eyes.
"She came here to support her family, not your mental issues," Beldin replied, fire in his eyes.
"Oh, I didn't know that. What a bad person I am."
"SHE IS BARELY SIXTEEN, AND YOU—"
Belford's side-eye was enough to stop Beldin's speech.
"You've been speaking too much lately. I called you to answer my question, not to ask any. And don't forget—you and I may share the same name, but not the same shame."
"Now I want to know—where is Kal?"
"He is in the village Kinara. I sent him for investigations of the hound attacks," Beldin replied, much calmer now.
Belford stepped closer, still naked, still reeking of wine and rage. The fire crackled behind him, casting monstrous shadows across the chamber walls.
"I want war, brother," he said, voice low and venomous. "I want vengeance. I want to watch them burn and beg. I want to crush their skulls until they forget their gods."
Beldin didn't flinch. He stood there, tall and composed, like a stone carved by storms.
"You always do," he replied flatly. "Every time your pride gets bruised, you scream for war like a spoiled dog howling at thunder."
"You think this is about pride?" Belford hissed. "They butchered our men. They spit on our name. I won't sit like a castrated priest while they gnaw at our legacy."
"And starting a bloodbath will do what? Ease your guilt? Prove you're not a coward hiding behind fucked-up theatrics and little girls?"
Belford's eyes flared. "Your WORDS, Beldin."
"I choose them very carefully," Beldin said, his gaze locked. "Because you're not the only one who lost something. But unlike you, I haven't drowned in my own madness."
There was silence. The kind that hums just before a storm.
Then Belford laughed. A dry, ugly sound. "You're still the saint, aren't you? Still polishing your fucking honor like it's going to bring back the dead."
Beldin turned his back and walked toward the door.
"If you want war," he said without looking, "start by putting on some damn clothes."
Then he was gone, leaving Belford alone with the broken glass and fading echoes of his own fury.
The night deepened as the last of the twilight vanished beyond the mountains.
Their steps echoed softly as the group left the training ground behind, walking the cobbled path back toward the castle. The torchlight flickered on the stone walls, casting dancing shadows that clung to their heels.
Senko walked between Pluto and Lunet. She still hadn't let go of his arm.
Bruno trailed a few steps behind, hands folded behind his back. He watched them, eyes narrowed in thought—not with suspicion, but concern. Something in Senko's return felt… off. Not wrong, exactly—but heavier than what the young man let on.
As they passed through the outer gate, castle guards nodded wordlessly, their armor gleaming in the firelight. The cold stone walls loomed larger now, the kind that swallowed noise and made the heart feel small.
Senko looked up at the towering keep.
"…Nothing's changed," he murmured. "And yet it feels like everything has."
Bruno gave a short nod. "It has. You'll see."
They entered the castle without fanfare, without noise—just footsteps and the quiet, watchful eyes of servants tucked into shadowed halls.
Whatever warmth had bloomed at the training ground now cooled into a quieter tension.
Something was coming.
And they all felt it—even if no one had spoken it aloud.
As they entered the castle halls, the warmth of the hearthlight spilled across the stone floors, casting long shadows that danced between the flicker of torches. The air smelled faintly of ink and rose oil—Lady Amane's chambers always did. The quiet rustle of paper was the only sound for a moment, as she sat by the fire, reading letters one after another, her eyes lined with quiet fatigue.
"Forgive me, Mother," came a voice—soft, yet piercing through the silence like a bell in winter fog.
She froze.
The letter slipped from her fingers and floated to the floor.
Slowly, she lifted her head and turned toward the doorway.
"Senko?!" Her voice cracked, raw with disbelief. "It's you… Senko!"
Her hands trembled. "If I knew you were coming, I would've—"
"Please, Mother," he interrupted gently, stepping forward into the firelight. "Don't make yourself busy for me. I can already see how much you've had to endure in my absence."
The fire behind her cracked softly, casting a soft orange glow over her expression. Her lips quivered, caught between sorrow and joy.
"How can I do nothing… when my child… has finally returned?" Her voice broke again, and she took one shaky step forward. "You came…"
"I need to stay, Mother," Senko said, his voice now firmer. "I've decided—I'm not leaving again."
Lady Amane's breath hitched. Her composure, always so regal, shattered in an instant. The corners of her eyes, lined with years of burden, brimmed with tears that finally overflowed.
Senko stepped closer and dropped to one knee before her.
"I ask for your forgiveness, Mother," he said, head bowed. The scent of parchment and old perfume seemed to wrap around them like memory.
Lady Amane reached out with both hands and cupped his face. Her thumbs brushed away the tears he hadn't realized were falling.
"I have nothing to forgive, my son," she whispered. "You are my blood… my heart. I could never hold anything against you. I'm glad you have returned, my son."
Lady Amane stood motionless at the window, her figure outlined by the pale glow of moonlight. The silence between them stretched, filled only by the distant cry of a nightbird and the low murmur of wind brushing the tower walls.
Behind Senko, footsteps echoed softly—Bruno and the two younger ones had followed them in from the training ground. Lunet's gaze flicked from Senko to their mother, sensing the gravity in the air. Pluto remained near the entrance, quiet but watchful.
"You're not going without us," Lunet said suddenly, her voice firm. "We've trained for this. Whatever it is, we can help."
Bruno raised an eyebrow, arms still crossed. "You're not wrong. This feels bigger than just another cursed village."
Senko turned, brow furrowing. "Lunet—Pluto—this isn't a journey I take lightly. What happened in Kinara… it's not normal. I don't want you two walking into something I don't even understand yet."
"But you don't have to do it alone," Pluto said, his voice calm but resolute. "Let us fight beside you."
Lady Amane slowly turned from the window, her expression unreadable. She looked at them all—her children, her brother, the pieces of her heart now gathered before her.
"You're still so young," she whispered. "Even after all the things you've seen, you're still my children."
"But we are not children anymore," Lunet replied, stepping closer.
Senko sighed, a hand brushing through his hair. The thought of dragging his younger siblings into this unknown threat twisted in his chest. Yet as he looked at them—Lunet's determined eyes, Pluto's unwavering calm—he saw something else.
Strength. Loyalty. A bond forged not by blood alone, but by shared pain and purpose.
He looked at Lady Amane.
"…There was a time I thought keeping them away from danger was protecting them," he said quietly. "But now I see… there's no one I trust more to stand with me than my family."
Lady Amane's eyes shimmered again, but this time with something stronger than sorrow—pride.
"Then go," she said softly. "But go together. And promise me this—whatever darkness waits in Kinara, do not let it take what I love most."
Senko bowed his head deeply. "We won't."