Chapter 256: Lainella's Fate is Decided by Lainella (49)
Chapter 256: Lainella's Fate is Decided by Lainella (49)
The group that had set out to find the Dark Priest returned to the mansion.
The news spread through the servants like wildfire, reaching every corner of the estate. Before long, everyone in the mansion was buzzing with rumors.
Though it served as the lord’s residence, it was ultimately just a manor in a rural territory.
Usually, the only things to talk about were trivial daily matters. So, when such a rare and massive incident occurred, it was only natural for everyone’s attention to be piqued.
Moreover, the incident involved the 'Dark Cult.'
This was a matter that directly affected their safety. No matter how much they might have wanted to ignore it, they couldn't help but be concerned.
The mansion was swept up in an atmosphere that was simultaneously restless and somber.
Eyewitness accounts—claims that Lady Ria was crying or that Young Master Ian was bleeding from his abdomen—pointed toward an ominous future.
Furthermore, hadn't the expressions of the companions who returned with Young Master Ian looked utterly bewildered?
No one even knew where the Lainella family’s Magic Corps was or what they were doing. It was only natural for the servants to feel a deep sense of unease.
However, the person facing the greatest ordeal in the mansion was someone else entirely.
That person was Reto Einstein.
Upon hearing the news that his friends had returned, he had been trudging toward the lobby. But then, he was suddenly seized by Celine and dragged off to the reception room.
At first, he wore a look of utter absurdity.
However, by the time four women, all radiating a palpable chill, took their seats before him, even someone like Reto had no way to endure the pressure.
He eventually let out a deep sigh and raised both hands.
It was a gesture of surrender.
"…What is it, ladies?"
From then on, Reto had to answer the women's questions with the utmost sincerity.
"So, you're saying that man is 'Ian' from the future?"
"Yes, that’s correct, Saintess."
Reto’s answers came without hesitation.
After all, hadn't the 'Ian' from the future told him to ask Reto himself? This was as good as permission to disclose the information, so there was no reason to hold back any longer.
Of course, not many were willing to take Reto’s statement at face value.
It was simply too unbelievable a story.
One of those skeptics was Elsie.
She furrowed her brow slightly, her voice carrying a sharp edge.
She looked thoroughly displeased.
"…How can you be so sure?"
Reto hummed and adjusted his glasses.
His face was clouded with contemplation for a moment.
But as always, it didn't take him long to find a way out. A sly smile played on his lips as he let his tongue wag.
"I have my ways. There are a few secrets I share only with Ian. For instance, when Celine was twelve—"
"A-Aaaahhh!"
The reaction from Celine was violent.
Her face turned beet-red as she frantically waved her hands.
She was desperately telling him to stop.
She was so flustered that her eyes were practically spinning.
"S-Stop! I believe you! I-I’ll vouch for him too! That person is definitely Ian!"
Only then did Reto wear a satisfied smile.
Celine was someone who had stood on the frontlines alongside Ian. Regardless of her actual performance, the trust her comrades placed in her was bound to be deeper than what they felt for Reto.
And even if that trust wasn't absolute, it didn't matter.
Reto had gained an ally.
Thanks to that, the catastrophe of having his own embarrassing past revealed was averted.
With the endorsement of the two people who had known Ian the longest, Elsie finally fell silent, though she continued to grumble.
Of course, that didn't mean the story was easy to swallow.
Seria let out a long sigh, giving voice to their collective feelings.
"Ian Senior from the future…"
To think that the kind Senior Ian would become such a cold-hearted man in the future.
The man Seria had seen was someone who looked like he wouldn't bleed even if pricked.
His skills, however, were undeniable.
The image of him ruthlessly slaughtering the test subjects was still vivid in her mind. Because Seria was well-versed in the way of the sword, she could tell just how profound the principles behind every one of his movements were.
Until now, the strongest swordsman Seria had ever seen was Delphine.
The Marquis of Yurdina in his prime might have been stronger, but that was from her childhood and she had no memory of it. Thus, Seria’s sun had always been Delphine.
But even that sister she so admired—could she replicate the divine might that man had shown?
It was impossible.
His combat was closer to the legends of Masters who were said to cleave mountains and part seas.
Yet, more than his overwhelming skill, it was the lack of emotion that defined him.
He was a man so worn down that he held onto his eroded humanity like a handful of gravel. And yet, he was the 'Senior Ian' of the future.
It was an unbelievable story.
And a story she didn't want to believe.
This sentiment wasn't unique to Seria.
Each of the women was lost in her own complex thoughts. For the most part, they remained silent, their expressions somber.
As if he had expected this, Reto scratched his head and sighed.
Words of comfort flowed from his mouth.
"Don't take it too much to heart. The future that 'Ian' comes from isn't set in stone. In fact, Ian is working hard to make sure he doesn't end up like that. Well, to explain that, I’d have to tell you about the 'Love Letter From The Future' as well…"
It was then that the door to the reception room swung wide open.
The person who stepped through the gap was the very subject of their conversation.
His golden eyes were drenched in a terrible fatigue.
His name was 'Ian Percus,' the man called the heart of the group and a rising star of the empire.
However, the soul currently occupying that body was a being from an unknown future.
As he strode into the room, he held a bottle of whiskey in each hand.
The man naturally headed for the head seat of the reception room.
It was the seat reserved for the head of the family, where the person of the highest status would sit.
He set the whiskey bottles down on the table.
Then, he immediately uncorked one and began to drink straight from the bottle.
He was swigging it.
It was a boisterous way of drinking common in the North. It was a habit usually seen in the military, where a masculine culture dominated.
Seria was the only one who had seen such a thing a few times in passing.
The group was momentarily speechless.
They couldn't help it, seeing the man who had suddenly appeared start swigging alcohol without a word.
They could only stare at him blankly, their eyes wide.
Regardless, the man didn't seem to care in the slightest.
He simply set the whiskey bottle down on the table with a heavy thud.
The noise snapped everyone out of their daze.
Their attention focused on him as he wiped his mouth and finally spoke.
"…I’ll get straight to the point. We have to abandon the territory."
It was a statement as abrupt as his entrance.
The women’s silence stretched even further.
It was inevitable.
To a noble, their territory was as precious as life itself. This was no different for Ian, who had often shown his affection for his people.
Yet, even if he was 'Ian' from the future, for him to suggest abandoning the territory…
The shock was so great that none of the women could find their voices.
Only Reto, who had some grasp of the man’s personality, managed to ask a follow-up question.
"Why?"
It wasn't a condemnation or a denial.
To that fundamental question of 'why,' the man gave a blunt answer.
"Because we can't protect it anyway. Now that the Dark Cult's ritual has begun, a Subordinate of the Evil God will be summoned. With our current strength, we're no match for it."
"…Even with the private army of the Yurdina family?"
It was Seria’s rebuttal.
The man shifted his gaze to Seria without a word.
Meeting that indifferent stare, Seria flinched and looked away.
Seria found it particularly hard to accept the fact that the man she loved could meet such a tragic end.
No, perhaps it wasn't just Seria, but everyone else as well.
Of course, the man didn't care what the women's faces looked like.
He simply continued with what he had to say.
"Yes. It doesn't matter if you have a private army or a Magic Corps. It’s more rational to retreat than to increase the number of useless sacrifices."
"…How much time do we have?"
"Three days at most."
This was his exchange with Reto.
The moment the words 'three days' left his lips, someone slammed their hand on the table.
It was the Saintess.
She seemed momentarily startled by her own impulsive action as all eyes turned to her, but she quickly regained her composure and questioned him calmly.
"Three days is far too short. This isn't just land; it's where people live! There are at least hundreds of residents who won't be able to leave—"
"It can't be helped."
The man said, taking another long swig of whiskey.
"…We have to discard what must be discarded."
His voice was devoid of even a trace of emotion.