The Scoundrel Second Son
Lefonya had never intended for things to blow up to this scale. All she had wanted was a safe place to hide.
Her plan had been simple: sow just enough suspicion and friction between the Duke and his vassals so they would keep each other in check, preventing the vassals' malice toward her from growing any larger. But if those vassals were framed as culprits for a crime they hadn't committed, their hatred toward her would only fester into something far more dangerous.
This is bad.
Worse, if anyone discovered she had staged the whole thing herself, she might be held accountable and thrown out on the street immediately.
Lefonya sprang out of bed.
I have to get to Duke Craitan's office right now.
Birdie and Becky had told her to wait while they went to ask whether she was permitted to visit the office, but there was no time for formalities. What if the Duke had already deduced that she was the true culprit?
She slipped hastily out of the bedroom. Perhaps owing to the commotion, there was not a single knight stationed outside the door.
Good. Let's go.
Lefonya took a step forward on feet that had not yet fully healed. But before she could get any further—
"Hey."
A hand clamped firmly onto her shoulder, and with a sudden rush of air, the world flipped upside down.
"Huh?"
Her feet lifted clean off the carpet. By the time she gathered her wits, she found herself dangling under someone's arm like a sack of grain.
"And what is this?" an airy voice drifted down from above.
Lefonya twisted her head around to look at her captor. Her eyes met those of a young man peering down at her with unvarnished annoyance.
He was casually brushing back unkempt silver hair that fluttered in the breeze. The sharp, upward tilt of his brows and eyes lent him an inherently predatory look, while his irises gleamed an icy, frozen blue. With several buttons on his shirt left rakishly undone, he looked as far from proper as a nobleman could get.
"Hey," he drawled, displaying the reckless habit of speaking down to someone he had only just met. "Who the hell are you?"
A man who clearly possessed zero courtesy for outsiders in his home.
The scoundrel second son of this house...
It didn't take much effort to deduce his identity.
Felence Craitan. The second son of House Craitan, known far and wide as an incorrigible menace.
Being an Aura Master, his physical aging had slowed significantly, leaving him looking youthful much like Duke Craitan. In fact, he appeared barely older than the real Lefonya's true age as an adult.
"Who are you to wander around my house with that face, coming out of my father's bedroom?"
His tone was openly hostile. Felence glared down at her with a menacing scowl, looking entirely ready to resort to violence if provoked.
There's no way he doesn't know I was adopted, Lefonya thought, keeping her mouth shut as she studied his face. If he had truly mistaken her for an intruder, he would have drawn a sword first. He wasn't asking because he was genuinely ignorant—he was asking because he knew precisely who she was.
If you're already aware of everything...
Lefonya parted her lips and spoke up.
"And who are you?"
"What?"
"I've never seen you before. The Duke told me to watch out for strangers. If you want to know who I am, you should introduce yourself first."
There was no reason to let him walk all over her. Felence wasn't the keeper of the family heirloom, nor was he the head of the house who held the power to throw her out.
Glaring at him suspiciously, Lefonya thumped his arm with her tiny fist.
"Put me dowwwn."
Speaking in such long, formal sentences had tripped up her five-year-old tongue.
"Ha." Struck out of nowhere by a toddler's fist, Felence let out a dry, incredulous laugh. He lowered her from beneath his arm and set her down onto the carpet.
"My name? You'll faint if you hear it."
"I won't."
"Is that so? I'm Felence Craitan." Felence introduced himself with a challenging smirk. "Haven't you heard the rumors about this house's second son? The mad dog who acts like a total bastard, the scoundrel with such a rotten temper that people say he ought to be kept on a leash?"
He bent his knees, dropping down until his gaze was level with her five-year-old eyes.
"I'm that very second son."
Beneath his mocking tone, his eyes burned with suspicion, vigilance, contempt, and fury. He was merely hiding it behind a playful sneer because he couldn't bring himself to direct pure, unadulterated hostility at a five-year-old child.
Arriving without any prior notice could only mean one thing: he had caught wind of the adoption and sprinted here to put a stop to it.
Should I introduce myself in kind?
While Lefonya deliberated, Felence's face twisted in irritation, and he ran a hand through his hair.
"Something about this... feels weird."
"Huh?"
"Hah. I wondered what kind of con artist managed to wrap my father around their finger this time, but it looks like you prepared thoroughly."
"What?"
"Hey, brat. Where did you get that face?"
Face? Lefonya reflexively patted her cheeks.
"This is just my face."
"Didn't anyone ever teach you that doing bad things gets you punished?"
Lefonya scowled. Was he insulting her face now? She understood his opposition to the adoption, but attacking someone's looks was crossing the line.
"Ha. You really came here with a full plan, didn't you? ...Hey, brat."
"Lefonya." Staring straight into his frigid eyes without shrinking back, she corrected him. "Lefonya Craitan."
Felence's face instantly hardened, darkening with thick, suffocating bloodlust. It was an expression terrifying enough to send an ordinary five-year-old running away in tears. Yet Lefonya simply continued in a flat, composed voice.
"An adoption doesn't happen just because I want it to. I'm sure you—"
She nearly said Brother, but caught herself. Calling him that felt entirely inappropriate.
Pausing to reconsider, Lefonya focused on enunciating her words, suppressing the urge to cough.
"—you know that very well yourself, sir."
"'Sir'?"
It was a jarringly distant, formal form of address coming from a five-year-old.
"If you have a problem with my adoption, don't bother taking it out on me—go see the Duke instead."
Felence's brow arched crookedly.
"Coming to corner a five-year-old like this is cowardly. I don't understand why all the adults around here are so cowardly with me."
"Adults? Ah. You mean the vassals downstairs?"
"The only person who can dissolve an adoption is the Duke, not me. If you dislike me so much, go tell the Duke to disown me. My opinion doesn't matter for a dissolution of adoption anyway, so all you have to do is convince him—cough! Cough, cough!"
She had spoken too much in one breath. Lefonya grimaced as a dry, hacking cough tore through her throat, bringing stinging tears to her eyes. She wiped them away with the back of her hand and drew a trembling breath.
"The Duke is the one who picked me up from the streets, and he's the one who brought up the adoption. So go talk to him. Are we done?"
"Hey, hold on."
"I'm busy, so I'm leaving. Goodbye."
Delivering her parting words with crisp finality, Lefonya turned on her heel. She had already wasted precious time; she needed to get to the Duke's office at once. She had to tell him she was completely fine and urge him to wrap up the matter without turning it into a catastrophe. Only then could she remain here safely until it was time to leave.
Her tiny feet pitter-pattered across the floor as fast as they could carry her. But before long, she stopped, scowled, and spun around.
"Why are you following me?"
Felence, who had been trailing behind her at an easy pace, tilted his head.
"There's an acrid burning smell drifting through the whole estate. Do you know what happened?"
"Go ask someone else."
"Everyone else looks busy."
"I'm bus—cough! Cough, cough!"
"It'd be faster to just answer the question instead of hacking your lungs out, kid."
Even though she had given him her name, he stubbornly clung to calling her 'kid.' Lefonya clutched her raw throat and glared up at him. Still, seeing that his appearance hadn't driven him to unleash the terrifying cruelty described in the rumors, she felt a sliver of relief. Her childlike form seemed to be acting as a shield.
"A fiwe bwoke out in my woom."
Ah. My tongue...
Lefonya's face twisted, and she forced herself to enunciate each syllable deliberately.
"A fire broke out in my bedroom. That's why the mansion smells like smoke. They put it out, and now they're investigating who did it. Which is why I have to hurry. Understand?"
Surely that satisfied all his curiosity.
Lefonya whipped around once more and marched forward with everything she had. Yet Felence merely strolled after her, his long strides easily keeping pace without breaking a sweat.
Unable to get more than a few paces ahead, Lefonya halted again.
"Why are you still following me?!"
"There's still something I don't get. I was going to ask, but you walked off first."
"If you used that curiosity on your studies, you would have graduated from the Imperial Academy by now."
"You even know I haven't graduated from the Academy?"
"The Duke told me."
"Instead of bragging about his kids, my father's busy talking trash about them behind their backs, huh? Whatever. You said a fire broke out in your bedroom?"
"Yes. What about it?"
"What were you doing when it happened?"
Felence's eyes glinted sharply.
What's this? Why is he asking that? Did he deduce something from what I just said?
Lefonya offered a sullen reply. "I was sleeping."
"In the room that caught fire?"
"Yes."
Felence nodded slowly and took a step toward her. Lefonya swallowed hard.
"Kid."
"...Yes?"
"You said you're five years old, right?"
Felence reached out his hands. Was he about to hit her? Lefonya flinched involuntarily, pulling her shoulders inward and squeezing her eyes shut.
"You sure talk well for your age. They told me I was still babbling nonsense when I was five."
Slipping his hands under her armpits, Felence scooped her straight up into the air. Startled by the sudden change in elevation, Lefonya balled her little fists tight.
"Kid. Do you realize you've been shivering this whole time?"
Perhaps because she had only recently regained consciousness, her small body was indeed trembling faintly.
"I only jus' woke up after passing out, tha's why," Lefonya mumbled in embarrassment.
Dangling her from his grasp, Felence resumed walking down the hall.
"Kid. Whether you're a con artist who duped my father or not is a separate matter. As long as you currently bear the Craitan name, nobody is permitted to lay a finger on you."
"Huh?"
"If someone deliberately set fire to your room, it is only natural that the culprit dies for the crime of attacking a Craitan."
Deserves to die.
Lefonya—the actual culprit who had started the blaze—stiffened completely.
"You're heading to Father's office, right? I'll carry you there."
In an instant, Felence's demeanor turned bone-chillingly cold. It was worlds apart from the flippant, teasing attitude he had displayed moments ago. The sheer chill radiating from his gaze was enough to make a person shiver just by looking at him.
Wait. That's one thing, but...
Lefonya glanced down at her suspended body and her two little legs swaying helplessly in midair. The posture was utterly absurd. He wasn't cradling her in his arms; he was simply carrying her by the armpits like some bizarre piece of luggage.
"What... what is this?! Put me down!"
"It'd look pretty ridiculous if I went around hugging a suspected swindler to my chest. But I'm not heartless enough to ignore a shivering five-year-old who just survived an accident."
"Ignore me! Please, just ignore me! I'm begging you to ignore me!"
Mortified beyond belief, Lefonya covered her burning face with both hands as she dangled back and forth.
"You were right, kid. Father was the one who adopted you, and Father is the one who has to disown you. I took my anger out on you instead of him. So instead of an apology, I'll give you a word of advice."
Felence's voice dropped into a somber, deadly serious murmur.
"If you became his daughter hoping to find something like a family in this house, you'd better give up now."
"..."
"There is no such thing as family in this household."