Roxana
Chapter 95
Chapter 95
The Way to Protect
the Female Lead’s Older Brother
Chapter 95
With this incident bringing to light some of the corruption and crimes Lant Agriche had committed over the years, it was far too late to protest or hold Pedelian accountable for their actions.
Nor would Jeremy’s sister, Roxana, have wanted such a thing.
And so, Jeremy decided to shoulder Agriche’s shame.
Jeremy had fought tooth and nail to attend the gathering in Yggdrasil.
And, by a hair’s breadth, he was recognized as the head of Agriche.
Of course, it had been by no means easy, and from Jeremy’s perspective, the process had been thoroughly vile and sordid.
‘The bastards didn’t miss a single chance to try and crush me.’
Yet stopping at nothing to achieve one’s goal was second nature to an Agriche.
Thus, Jeremy was more than willing to hide his true intentions and grovel before them for the sake of what he wanted.
This state of affairs would not last forever, but he would likely have to endure this humiliation for quite some time.
Even so, that was fine.
If only it meant building an Agriche that Roxana might one day want to return to.
“Damn it, did something get in my eye?”
Feeling a sudden sting, Jeremy raised a hand and rubbed his eyes roughly.
A soft rustle stirred the air.
Just then, a sound came from where the setting sun cast its dying light.
Perhaps because he had grown accustomed to the silence, the noise struck his ears with unusual sharpness.
Is it that woman with the bizarre fat bird again?
The sudden thought made Jeremy’s face contort in annoyance.
Not long ago, a woman had trespassed into Agriche at will, snooping around the empty monster pens.
She had seemed to be a Beast Tamer.
The moment she was discovered, she fled swiftly atop a monster resembling a black bird, slipping through Jeremy’s grasp.
Even after that, he had felt someone’s gaze once more.
Yet it had been so fleeting that he had brushed it off as mere imagination.
So she had come back to scout the situation after all. They truly said the culprit always returns to the scene.
If that woman had dared trespass again, he would not let her off so easily this time.
Jeremy pushed himself up, a fierce glint flashing in his eyes.
He moved toward the source of the noise. Yet the figure that met his gaze was not the woman from before.
“Ah, what. It was you, Aunt Maria?”
“My goodness, Jeremy.”
Seeing Maria, the tension drained out of Jeremy all at once. Then he suddenly noticed something strange.
“What’s with that getup, anyway? Are you going somewhere?”
Maria held light luggage in hand, wrapped in a thick traveling coat.
Underneath, of course, she wore her usual extravagant dress and high heels, even holding a parasol in one hand as if heading out for a leisurely stroll.
Yet Jeremy could tell she was about to set off on a long journey.
Maria replied with her usual beaming smile.
“I’m going to look for Sierra.”
At those words, Jeremy’s expression soured.
Her obsession really knew no bounds…
On Agriche’s final day, Maria had fallen asleep under the effects of the sleeping incense Jeremy had intentionally lit.
She had only regained consciousness after everything had already drawn to a close.
Of course, that had been a precaution taken in advance to prevent Maria from interfering with their plans.
Once Maria belatedly realized what had happened, she threw a fit for quite some time.
Above all else, she caused an uproar over the disappearance of Roxana’s mother, Sierra.
She did not seem to care in the slightest that her husband Lant was dead, Agriche had fallen into this state, or that Deon had gone missing.
Maria had raised such a demonic fury while searching for Sierra that even Jeremy found himself overwhelmed by her intensity.
That was why he had kept the fact that he was the one who lit the sleeping incense a secret from her to this day.
Hearing what Maria just said, Jeremy reaffirmed his resolve never to utter a word of the truth until the day she entered her grave.
“What are you going to do once you find Aunt Sierra?”
“What an obvious question.”
Maria answered Jeremy’s inquiry without the slightest hesitation.
“I have to stay by her side and protect her.”
Her expression and tone were utterly natural. Hearing her words, Jeremy’s expression turned strange.
“Aren’t you curious whether Deon is alive or dead? He’s still your son.”
Of course, Jeremy was not worried about someone like Deon in the least.
Still, by common sense, Maria’s top priority ought to be her son Deon rather than Sierra, which was why he brought it up.
Then again, when had anyone in Agriche ever been sensible?
“Is that child someone who dies so easily?”
As expected, Maria gave an unconcerned response.
“Besides, Deon is capable of deciding the place of his own death. But Sierra is not.”
Even Jeremy found this rather unexpected.
Throughout her time living in Agriche, Maria had always volunteered to act as Sierra’s watchdog.
But had that truly been genuine, rather than mere amusement?
Jeremy stared at Maria with a look of strange fascination.
He had already known, but the obsession of an Agriche truly took the cake.
“Suit yourself. But the moment you step outside, you’re no longer an Agriche, so don’t go selling our name for pointless matters.”
Jeremy spoke rather coldly. It would not do to have filth splattered over Agriche just as it was trying to make a fresh start.
“Don’t worry. I have no need for such things either.”
Maria retorted as if he were worrying over nothing. Then, looking at Jeremy, she let out a long sigh.
“You were so pretty when you were little, too. Children of Agriche really lose their charm as they grow up. The boys especially—blackened inside and out, so you never know what they’re thinking… Ah, I truly miss Sierra and Sana.”
Maria shook her head with a wistful gaze.
Then, suddenly, she beamed at Jeremy once more.
“Let me know when you have a child later. I’ll dote on them just like I did when you were young.”
“Ah, quit your bullshit and get going already!”
Jeremy shouted in irritation, shooing Maria out as if driving her away.
Even so, Maria turned her back on Jeremy with a smiling face and left Agriche behind.
Without long goodbyes or lingering sentiment, clean and uncomplicated. It was a farewell that suited them all too well.
It was pitch darkness, devoid of a single speck of light.
It felt as though he were buried deep beneath the dry, cool sands of a desert.
All around was dark and tranquil, as if he were being endlessly drawn into an abyss lying even deeper below.
Perhaps where he lingered now was the pitch-black depths of the sea.
A world of total silence, without a single whisper of sound.
In a way, it resembled rest.
Surprisingly, this void where not even a speck of dust seemed to exist felt boundlessly peaceful.
It was a sensation he had never experienced before. Unfamiliar, certainly, but far from unpleasant.
Yet the space sheltering his soul did not seem to share the sentiment.
Writhing and contorting, the formless world struggled desperately to spit him out.
Soon, the empty air warped, tracing thin fissures across the void.
A sharp fracture split the expanse.
At last, the space shattered like shards of porcelain, vomiting him back out.
“…”
Deon slowly lifted eyelids that felt as heavy as stone.
His blurred vision failed to focus properly.
Where he lay appeared to be a modest, narrow bed.
His entire body ached, and a sharp pain flared in his throat—a wound inflicted by his father, Lant.
Lying still, Deon silently and keenly strained his ears, taking in his surroundings.
Judging by the faint sounds drifting toward him, he seemed to be in a cramped room.
Voices that sounded like a conversation outside reached him faintly, though he could not discern what was being said.
There were at least three people nearby: the two conversing outside, and one staying in the room with him.
Deon was not alone in this room.
The rustle of fabric from someone’s subtle movement and a faint breathing penetrated his ears.
Then, suddenly, came the sharp intake of a breath.
A clatter and a sharp scrape broke the silence.
The sound of something being dropped in surprise, followed by a chair dragging across the floor, shattered the stillness.
“Y-You’re awake…”
The woman’s flustered state rippled through her trembling voice.
Deon fixed his now-focused gaze upon the woman.
His eyes were remarkably calm and lucid, hardly resembling those of someone who had only just regained consciousness.
His crimson eyes, carrying a razor-sharp edge, slowly swept across the room.
On the floor lay an embroidery hoop, seemingly dropped by the woman just moments before.
Perhaps it was his imagination, but the woman’s face looked somewhat familiar. Clutched with indecision, she gripped her skirts for a brief moment before rushing toward the door.
“Just a moment.”
The woman told Deon to wait, but he had no reason to obey.
Deon moved to rise from the bed.
A heavy clank rang out.
Yet he could not push his upper body upright as intended.
The moment he moved his arms, a harsh metallic screech grated against his eardrums.
Deon’s cold gaze locked onto the restraints binding his hands.
Not only his wrists, but his ankles were bound by the very same irons.
Footsteps approached from beyond the door.
Still lying on the bed, Deon stared coldly toward the doorway.
At last, the woman who had slipped out returned, accompanied by another.
Upon recognizing the face of the person who entered behind her, Deon’s eyes twitched involuntarily.
“You’re awake.”
A composed woman’s voice struck his ears.
It was none other than Emily, Roxana’s loyal retainer.