The Escalating Story
The Escalating Story
A few weeks ago, a letter arrived at the office of the Rivan County. The moment Belgorden Rivan broke the seal, which bore a stamp sent urgently from the North, he knew exactly who the sender was.
Erica Riban.
She was his eldest daughter and his most valuable asset, who, along with his second child—a standout mage—had been maintaining the family's prestige.
The content of the letter was short, but it had only one core message.
That Edom Rivan was alive, had risen rapidly in the North under the name Iden Summonfield, and had been granted the title of Count after gaining the trust of the Northern Grand Duke.
When he first read it, Belgorden let out a hollow laugh.
It was absolute nonsense.
It was the kind of bullshit a passing dog would fart out as it went by.
That dim-witted, weak youngest child?
The boy who did nothing but bring shame to the family name?
Not only had he become the Northern Grand Duke's man, but he had become a Count equal to himself?
He dismissed it as nonsense, assuming Erica had seen something wrong and was spouting delusions.
However, he recalled the memory of the tracker he had sent immediately after the brat ran away three years ago, who reported that he 'seemed to have headed toward the North.'
He read the letter once more. Erica had written it with certainty. Her tone was closer to conviction than suspicion.
Belgorden was lost in thought for a long time.
If.
Just what if it was true?
To the declining Rivan County, a connection with the Northern Grand Duke was not just a simple expansion of a network; it was nothing less than a ladder for survival.
Just a single link to the Northern Territory would change their standing in central aristocratic society.
Financial deterioration, business stagnation, wavering trust.
It was a card that could reverse everything at once.
After agonizing for a day, he made his decision.
It was worth confirming.
The brilliant Erica wouldn't have sent an emergency letter after seeing a mere hallucination.
Furthermore, wasn't she the daughter who had sworn to 'bring back results' for the sake of the family?
He departed for the North that very day.
And now, in the middle of the drawing room of Iden's mansion, he was facing the tip of the Black Knight's sword.
Belgorden did not panic. Or, at the very least, not on the outside.
The pressure radiating from the summon clad in black plate armor was considerable, but his gaze remained fixed on the man beyond it.
He didn't try to test the waters half-heartedly.
Hadn't the other man also recognized him instantly and shown his wariness?
It was indeed Edom Rivan, and Belgorden felt relieved at that fact.
As expected, coming all this way had not been a wasted trip.
"...You really were alive. My son."
Belgorden laughed lowly without taking a single step back.
However, Iden's eyes only grew colder.
To him, Belgorden was nothing more than an annoying peddler.
"I believe I told you not to call me by that name."
His tone was polite, but the line drawn within it was clear.
Belgorden slowly raised his hand and placed it over his chest.
"I searched for you so desperately. Do you know where you disappeared to, or how much I worried?"
His voice rang out with apparent sincerity. It was a perfect performance, mimicking the trembling of a father who had harbored concern for many years.
"The family was turned upside down. Do you know how gruesome the rumors were? That you were imprisoned, that you were dead... I inquired about your whereabouts every single day."
Of course, Iden was not one to be fooled by such cheap acting.
He knew better than anyone how Edom Rivan had been treated within the family and how thoroughly lonely he had been.
The cold hallways, the closed doors, the smell of the basement.
The sensation of dried blood on the back of his neck.
The gazes that prioritized prestige over concern.
Even though he hadn't experienced it personally, he felt as if a foul stench was lingering at the tip of his nose.
It was something that happened often in reality as well.
It seemed that parasitic parents, who cling to their abandoned children once they become successful to get a piece of the pie, exist everywhere.
And.
Tuk.
Seeing as he felt a suffocating sense of frustration even though it wasn't his own business, Iden felt it was a stroke of immense luck that he had discarded the name 'Rivan.'
Belgorden tried to take another step forward, and the Black Knight's greatsword moved minutely.
He stopped.
"I am glad you are alive, Edom. I truly mean it."
What followed those loathsome words was his true intention.
"Now, come back."
Silence fell.
"Return to the family. You are Edom Rivan, and we are family, are we not?"
"Enough."
Iden's voice cut him off lowly.
The Black Knight, carrying out the summoner's will, took half a step forward.
"I warned you."
Belgorden's eyes distorted.
His patience had run out the moment his conciliation failed to work.
"Wh-what kind of attitude is this toward your father!"
His voice cracked sharply.
"Do you not even know the grace of being raised? One who abandons the heavenly laws of kinship will receive heavenly punishment! The position you stand in now is ultimately because the blood of Rivan flows—"
"I will consider this trespassing."
Iden interrupted him and gave a firm warning.
Belgorden's expression froze.
Iden looked at him coldly.
"I have already discarded the name Rivan. I have no intention of living under that name, nor do I have any intention of becoming a member of the Rivan family, so please leave."
The tip of the Black Knight's sword was once again accurately aimed at Belgorden's heart line.
"This is Summonfield County. Do not bring up past relationships any longer. If you do not exit immediately, I will consider it trespassing and suppress you by force."
Belgorden grit his teeth.
This man was no longer the pathetic youngest child. He was a Count with the power of the Wintel Grand Duke Family at his back, and the leader of the Special Task Force. A direct confrontation would yield no profit.
Iden's eyes threw one last warning.
"Leave now."
A beat of silence.
"Otherwise... it won't end with just a warning."
The air in the drawing room became as still as if it had frozen.
**
Belgorden Rivan, who had been turned away as if kicked out without even crossing the threshold of Iden's mansion, grit his teeth as he climbed into his carriage. The cold gaze he felt in the drawing room and the tip of the Black Knight's sword were still vivid before his eyes.
The carriage door closed, and the wheels began to roll, scraping against the gravel road.
"Tch, what a heartless bastard."
Belgorden, leaving the mansion in the carriage, turned his head and muttered as he looked at the mansion through the rear window.
Belgorden organized his thoughts while looking at the gray scenery of the North passing by the window.
Conciliation had failed.
Neither the justification of being a father nor the bond of blood worked.
In that case, the next move was simple.
Meet the Grand Duke.
Expose the fact that Iden Summonfield is actually Edom Rivan and that he gained the Grand Duke's trust by hiding his past and forging his identity.
If the Grand Duke takes issue with it, Iden's position will be shaken in an instant.
Even if the Grand Duke turns a blind eye, in the end, he will know that the blood of Rivan County flows through Iden Summonfield, so a connection might be formed regardless.
If even that doesn't work out well, he would incite aristocratic society.
In a world maintained by lineage and prestige, the stigma of being 'one who abandoned their family' is by no means light.
He would incite public opinion to drag Iden back down to being 'Edom Rivan.'
He would remind him that he is blood that cannot exist if not for the Rivan family, and absorb the brat once again. A thin smile crossed Belgorden's lips.
"I wonder if you can hold out until the end, Edom."
The carriage soon stopped in front of the lodging where Erica was said to be staying. Having gone to find Iden as soon as he arrived in the North, he was only now meeting his daughter, intending to share the situation and discuss their next move.
However.
The moment he opened the door and stepped inside, he stopped in his tracks.
It was strangely quiet.
At this time of day, servants should be moving busily, and whispers or footsteps should be heard from somewhere in the hallway.
Yet, the interior of the lodging was submerged in a silence as if it were holding its breath.
"...."
Belgorden furrowed his brows.
He slowly moved his steps along the hallway. The silence was so thick that even his footsteps on the thick carpet echoed with a ttogak-ttogak sound. The flames of the candles hanging on the wall flickered eerily, and the wind coming through the gaps in the window felt heavy.
Furthermore, there was even dust sitting on the stair railing.
Something was wrong.
A deathly silence, as if human presence had been cut off for dozens of days.
He wondered if he had found the wrong address, but the carriage parked in the garden was definitely from the Rivan family.
Just then, a scratching sound was heard from somewhere.
Sagak.
Sagak.
Like the sound of something hard being scratched by fingernails.
Belgorden's heart skipped a beat.
The sound leaked from the kitchen area at the end of the hallway. The door was halfway open.
He cautiously reached out and pushed the door.
Kkiiik.
As the door opened, the scene inside the room was revealed.
The curtains were half-torn, and the floor was littered with overturned chairs and tangled scraps of cloth. The mirror was cracked, and the jewelry on the dressing table was scattered.
And in the middle of it all stood Erica.
Her blue hair flowed down her shoulders in a disheveled mess, and blood was still beaded on her fingertips as if she had been scratching something.
On one wall of the room, multiple layers of marks remained as if they had been clawed by fingernails.
The smell of blood and something rotting mixed together, creating a foul stench that assaulted his sense of smell.
Belgorden furrowed his brows and opened his mouth.
"E-Erica...?"
She slowly turned her head.
And the moment he saw those eyes, a chill ran down Belgorden's spine.
The whites of her eyes were not visible.
It wasn't that her pupils were dilated; her entire eyes were stained pitch black, as if ink had been poured into them.
Like an abyss that had swallowed the light.
The corners of Erica's mouth twisted strangely.
An expression that was difficult to distinguish whether she was crying or gritting her teeth.
The expression, a mixture of agony and ecstasy, was bizarre enough to naturally instill fear.
"Father...."
Her voice was the same as usual, but the resonance was somehow different. It was as if two layers of voices were being heard overlapping.
Belgorden's hand trembled minutely.
"Wh-what on earth is this state?"
He instinctively took a step back.
Erica's gaze slowly followed him.
In those eyes, there was neither anger nor shame.
Something else.
A deep, dark, and unfamiliar energy was shimmering.
Hijeuk.
Erica gave a chilling smile as she looked at Belgorden.