Chapter 59
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 58
Chapter Title: The Prodigal's Return (2)
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Under Laila's guidance, I soon arrived at the reception room.
Solidly guarding the firmly shut door were two soldiers with tense expressions.
"P-Patriarch...!"
"Shh. We're going right in, so no need to announce us."
I waved my hand dismissively, and the soldiers' faces brightened as they stepped aside.
The moment I forcefully pushed open the large door and entered, a chilling atmosphere filled the reception room, prickling my skin.
Lined against the surrounding walls were high-ranking retainers standing rigidly, as if ready to draw their swords at any moment.
And in the seat that was originally mine, the head chair. Right below it, at a desk hastily set up, sat Jevella and an unfamiliar man.
Unlike Jevella, who wore a faint smile but seemed stiffer than usual,
the man seated across from her looked utterly at ease, as if he'd come home to his own house.
In fact, the desk was littered with empty bowls and food scraps, as if he'd just finished a meal.
Well, he had indeed returned to his own home.
Striking golden hair. Skin tanned bronze by the sun, and a body packed with solid muscle.
Resembling me, but the real Zahav, not a fake like me.
...However, what truly grated on my nerves wasn't his striking resemblance to me in appearance.
"Hey. You planning to leave my little sister crippled for life? If not... you know what to do, right?"
"...Yes, Young Lord."
A middle-aged servant crawled on all fours into the space under the desk, his face twisted in humiliation.
That's right. This madman had half-threatened the man under the desk—in front of all these retainers watching, and even with his own sister Jevella right there.
And a middle-aged man, no less.
From the snippet of conversation I'd overheard, he seemed to be the father of that maid whose limbs he'd broken a few days ago—though I had no idea what had set him off.
The moment I grasped what was happening before my eyes, chills ran down my spine, and I instinctively realized.
"Ah."
No wonder my thug act hadn't worked on guys like this.
Was it my inadvertent sigh? Or the faint creak of the door as I opened it?
The gaze that had been fixed solely on the eldest began shifting toward me.
"...Enoch?"
Jevella, who only now seemed to notice my arrival, spoke in a dazed voice. I gave her a light nod in greeting, then turned to the eldest.
Our eyes met. His golden eyes, warped with sadism, curved into a grin.
"Ah, so you're Enoch. The lucky bastard who dared to claim House Zahav's throne in my absence."
"And you are?"
I scowled without thinking, but he chuckled as if finding it amusing.
"A mere brat with no manners. Well, can't be helped when you're uneducated. I'll let it slide... Shakhar Zahav. Remember that, little brother. I am House Zahav's eldest son and rightful heir."
"Shakhar..."
"That's right. I've come to take back what's mine, Enoch."
The eldest declared confidently. I nodded once at Shakhar's form,
then
BAM!
kicked the desk flying far away.
Wood splintered and dishes shattered, echoing through the room. In the midst of it emerged a middle-aged man on his knees.
"Eldest brother. I may not know much, but I do know basic etiquette."
"Huh?"
"It's no good for trash to butt into the conversation of superiors. We need to tidy up first."
"..."
Shakhar gaped blankly for a moment before bursting into loud laughter, as if delighted.
"Hahaha! Exactly! Lowly scum have no business meddling in House Zahav's future! You heard him, old man? Party's over—get lost."
"Y-Yes..."
The middle-aged servant glanced bewilderedly between me and Shakhar before bowing hastily and retreating.
In his place, the retainers who'd been standing rigidly against the walls advanced—most familiar among them, Hilda,
but
"Lady Hilda. I said this is House Zahav's seat. I tolerate no impurities here. Not even the vice-captain of the Silver Lion Knights."
"...My apologies, Patriarch."
Hilda bowed obediently and returned to her position. I sent Karen to stand beside her, then took the ornate chair from the dais,
placed it next to Jevella, and sat.
Now, the three of us—me, Jevella, and Shakhar—formed a triangle.
Jevella wore a worried expression and seemed about to speak, but Shakhar beat her to it.
"Hmph. For a vice-captain obsessed with climbing the ranks, she's surprisingly docile, like a lamb. I heard you've only been Patriarch for a couple months—impressive training in such a short time, little brother."
"I wouldn't keep her around if she didn't listen in the first place. By the way, 'little brother'? There's a younger Zahav than me, isn't there?"
"You mean Yuria? Yeah, you really show your outsider upbringing in moments like this."
Shakhar smirked, blatantly raking his gaze over Jevella as he spoke.
"Listen up, little brother. Females can't be Zahavs."
"Huh?"
"They can't inherit Bloodline Abilities, nor do they have the strength to hold back dungeon monsters. How could they bear the glorious name of House Zahav?"
"But..."
"It's no different from branding livestock with the master's name. Just a precaution for when House Zahav's bloodline grows precarious, like now."
"..."
More brutal words than I'd imagined.
And I could vaguely tell. If he treated his own blood, a Zahav woman, like this, how would he treat complete outsiders?
Still, just to check, I asked,
"Eldest brother. I heard on the way here—you killed a knight who dared point his sword at you in the dungeon, right then and there? Sure, a dog that bares its teeth at its master deserves death... but that wasn't your dog, was it?"
"Sorry about that. At the time, I thought Father was still holding the Patriarch seat. I figured he'd understand the wretch who stabbed me, but it turned out to be your dog, little brother."
"And the maid too?"
"Something like that. That's why I just spared her father. Word is you're only interested in women... but it doesn't matter to me either way."
Shakhar sounded genuinely apologetic. At that, Jevella spoke up in a soft but pointed tone.
"Shakhar. The knight you killed was named Greg. A commoner, but a promising young man with the talent to rise in the knights' order someday."
"What? Just a stray mutt, then."
"...The maid you crippled wasn't in a high position, but she was from a family that's served House Zahav for four generations. Her father too."
"So it took four generations for them to earn the right to impregnate with Zahav blood. Shouldn't they be thrilled?"
"Shakhar...!"
Shakhar had seemed apologetic just moments ago, but his indifferent reply finally made even the gentle Jevella snap.
Whoosh—
"Eek!"
Shakhar raised his aura, pressuring Jevella in turn.
He's strong.
Not as strong as me right now... but compared to when I first arrived at House Zahav, he's about the same or a bit stronger.
...Wasn't it said that only Cain, the former Patriarch, in his prime could face an Orc Warlord alone?
This was unusual. House Zahav's blood was supposed to be thinning, weakening Bloodline Abilities.
Shakhar was among the better ones, but at his age, surpassing the former Patriarch? Utterly impossible.
Either he'd grown rapidly surviving long-term in the dungeon, breaking his limits... or something beyond common sense had happened.
Either way, it was too much pressure for Jevella, who had no outstanding martial prowess to handle.
I stepped in front of her and glared. Shakhar casually raised both hands and withdrew his aura.
"Fine, fine. I know what you're trying to say. Don't touch the trophies yet, right? I just got a bit heated because the lowly thing overstepped, but I have no intention of breaking 'etiquette.' You get me, little brother?"
"..."
"Come on, relax. Now there's only you and me left in House Zahav, right? No need to fight like in the old days—at least not now. We still have to hold the dungeon, after all."
Watching Shakhar ramble on, I understood.
Why he'd been friendly toward me from the start. Why, despite forcing retainers to serve him and facing me—the one officially enthroned after the succession rite—he was so relaxed.
To Shakhar, equals were only fellow Zahav blood. Everyone else was beast or tool. That's why his attitude seemed friendly to me.
That composure came from a massive misunderstanding.
Right now, I was suppressing my energy as much as possible.
No special reason. To heal my internal injuries, I had to convert Igni's mana into my own and stabilize it.
Over the past few days, calmly pressing down the mana nonstop and dispersing my aura to avoid clashes had become habit.
If not, I'd still be wheezing, not fully recovered.
To Shakhar, I must have seemed weaker than him.
And the 'etiquette' he mentioned was probably the deeply rooted custom of the jungle law in House Zahav... no, the entire South.
In other words, he'd been telling me from the start: if you're weaker, hand over the Patriarch seat quietly.
Since I'd graciously accept him as family now, better to yield while he was asking nicely.
The proposal itself wasn't bad. No—in all my scenarios, it was the best.
I'd escape suspicions of false blood, and enjoy House Zahav's power to my heart's content.
...But I couldn't nod so easily.
Our brief exchange had already shown me what kind of man Shakhar was.
Mistaking my silence for hesitation, Shakhar added as if bestowing a favor.
"Ah, seriously, you really like this failure and Yuria that much? Well, as a Zahav, who could resist? ...How about this, then."
His tone was light, as if struck by a brilliant idea.
"If you're fine with them after I'm done, I'll lend you both. What do you say, little brother?"
"Fine. I've decided."
"Oh."
Shakhar grinned as if he'd anticipated my response.
I glanced at him and stood, shouting loudly.
"Retainers, listen up!"
"""..."""
In the silence, their gazes—full of desperate hope—bore down heavily.
But it was a weight I had to get used to now.
"My eldest brother Shakhar died bravely fighting in the dungeon! But a monster mimicking him has dared invade House Zahav's home!"
"...What?"
"Thus, as Patriarch, I will subjugate it myself. No one interfere! Just watch closely to the end!"
Shakhar's face went slack, as if he'd truly never expected this.
But soon, it twisted savagely.
"How dare a bastard...!"
I swung my fist straight at his face.
BAM!
Without time to resist, Shakhar crashed through the wall and out.
With this, my long-dreamed exile life was forever out of reach. I let out a small sigh.
As I moved to follow through the hole,
Jevella stood hurriedly and asked,
"W-Wait a moment, Enoch! What do you mean? Shakhar... a monster?"
"Simple."
I smirked amid the retainers' disbelieving stares and answered.
"No human could be that vicious. So that thing must be a monster."
"...Huh?"
"It's not human."
Jevella and the retainers blinked at my declaration of just calling it a monster and killing it.
Avoiding their gazes, I turned and leaped through the hole.
No turning back now.
From here on, you're the fake Zahav.