Before his arrival, Viscount Wen Byrd had thought he was fully mentally prepared. A fallen noble who had inherited this fief for less than a month, a castle notorious for its curse—he could practically picture what he would see: a dilapidated fortress, a dirty and cluttered hall. By the grace of the Saints, he would have thanked his lucky stars if they could even offer him a decent cup of milk tea.
But now, sitting on a soft, plush sofa and taking in his surroundings, Viscount Byrd had to admit—he had been completely wrong.
Contrary to the castle's shabby exterior, its interior was far from run-down or messy. In fact, when Viscount Byrd stepped into the hall accompanied by Black, he found himself unconsciously taking a deep breath to suppress the strange surge of emotion welling up inside him. Everything was the opposite of what he had imagined. The furnishings of Duskhold Castle did not give off a vibe of messiness or vulgarity; instead, they exuded an air of grandeur, vicissitude, and ancient elegance. The furniture looked somewhat worn, but it was spotlessly clean, arranged neatly and precisely in their rightful places—a sight that made the viscount nod approvingly to himself.
After all, nobles were different from upstarts. They had long outgrown their fascination with gaudy, gold-plated decorations. In their eyes, only parvenus and petty nobles resorted to such displays to prove their worth—like children clamoring for attention with novel, outlandish trinkets. Ancient, established families like the Byrds no longer needed such ostentatious gestures to assert their status. What mattered to them was honor, family prestige, and history. Of course, these virtues could not be flaunted casually. A noble house could hardly erect a sign in its hall listing the glorious deeds of its ancestors. Instead, great care had to be taken in the arrangement and display of its furnishings to convey that sense of heritage.
In Viscount Byrd's eyes, the layout of Duskhold Castle was nothing short of majestic and composed—free of the frivolous showiness common among minor nobles and wealthy merchants. This realization took him by surprise. He had read the dossiers on Black before coming, after all—just a descendant of a fallen house, and the name Felix was one he had never even heard of. Throughout history, countless noble families had fallen from grace for one reason or another; though they had once known glory, they were eventually swept into the dustbin of history, forgotten by all. Now, it seemed that the Felix family was not as simple as he had assumed.
Of course, if the viscount had known that the entire castle's interior design was the handiwork of a former princess, he would not have been so perplexed.
If the castle's interior had only left Viscount Byrd feeling confused, then seeing the maids dressed in the uniforms personally designed by Black nearly made him spit out his tea.
By the Saints! What kind of outlandish attire was this? Maids? Why would maids dress like *that*?
Viscount Byrd's eyes widened as he stared intently at the maids standing not far from him. They were all lovely, undeniably beautiful—and that was not the issue. As a member of a prominent noble house, he prided himself on having seen his fair share of beautiful women. But maids dressed like *this*? It was the first time in his life.
Who exactly *were* they?
Viscount Byrd frowned slightly, his gaze sweeping over the girls' bodies before pausing on the outer side of their left arms. There, a white rose was entwined around a longsword, set against a deep purple background with matching trim—a pattern that looked distinctly odd. What confused him even more was that he felt he had seen this emblem somewhere before. But when he strained his memory to recall, his mind drew a blank.
"It seems you're quite curious about these girls, Viscount?"
Sitting across from him, Black had naturally noticed the viscount's lingering gaze. He raised an eyebrow, breaking the man's train of thought with an unhurried tone.
"A little," Viscount Byrd replied.
Black's sudden question had indeed interrupted his musings, and while this annoyed him slightly, he did not show it. After all, he was the guest here, and Black was the host. Surface-level courtesy had to be maintained. Moreover, as a representative of an ancient, tradition-bound family, he would never dream of committing a breach of etiquette.
"To be honest, their uniforms are quite unique. I've never seen anything like this style before, so I couldn't help but take a few extra glances."
Viscount Byrd tore his eyes away from the maids, picked up his teacup from the table, and turned his gaze to Black. Just as the intelligence reports had stated, Black looked barely twenty years old—but why did he sense none of the impetuousness typical of young men? The viscount's unease deepened. He knew exactly why this young man had ended up here. For someone his age, facing such a fate would usually lead to either rage or despair. While it was not unheard of for someone to pick themselves up and strive for better things, Black's smile made him look as if he was perfectly content with his life here.
"They are a bit unconventional, but they look quite nice, don't you think?"
Black did not seem the least bit offended by the viscount's question. He shrugged, then leaned back against the sofa, smiling calmly at the man before him.
"But that's beside the point. I heard you've come here regarding…"
"Official business, of course, Mr. Felix."
Viscount Byrd spoke in a measured tone, taking the opportunity to "remind" the young man of his station. He was merely a "Mr." with no inherited title—a far cry from himself, a viscount. While a viscount was considered a relatively low rank among the nobility, it was still infinitely more prestigious than a "commoner noble" with no official status whatsoever.
Viscount Byrd had hoped this subtle jab would catch Black off guard. If he was smart enough, he would understand the implication. Would a young, proud nobleman be able to tolerate such a deliberate slight? He was, after all, born of noble blood—would he not fly into a rage at being treated like a commoner? With that thought in mind, the viscount stared intently at the young man's face, searching for even the slightest flicker of anger, the tiniest hint of agitation.
But Black disappointed him. He seemed completely oblivious to the veiled mockery in the viscount's words, maintaining his smile as he waited patiently for him to continue.
"I'm here on behalf of the Byrd family to hand over some documents to you."
Viscount Byrd snapped his fingers. Immediately, the middle-aged man who had been standing silently behind him stepped forward, respectfully produced a stack of papers, and placed them on the table.
"As I'm sure you're aware, Duskwood was part of the Byrd family's territory a long time ago, and as such, it was under our jurisdiction for many years. Now that it has a new owner, we hope to see it thrive once again. These are the administrative documents for Duskwood and the town. We have always taken a keen interest in this place…"
This was nothing but a blatant lie, of course. In truth, the Byrd family had never paid the slightest bit of attention to Duskwood. The town was far too impoverished, and the castle far too terrifying. People had heard enough of the ghastly stories and rumors surrounding it, so they instinctively avoided this godforsaken place. A backwater that barely yielded a hundred gold coins in taxes a month—what possible value or significance could it have?
"And now that you've become the new lord here, I can see that you plan to make something of this place… Mr. Felix, I saw all the efforts you've been making on my way here. I must admit—you have quite the vision."
At this, Viscount Byrd spread his hands and shrugged his shoulders.
"And what exactly are you implying by that?"
Black picked up the conversation at just the right moment, looking at the nobleman before him with a hint of curiosity, wondering what kind of news he had brought.
"I think you understand perfectly well, Mr. Black."
After a moment of consideration, Viscount Byrd finally spoke up.
"Turning this place into a bustling, prosperous fief will be an extremely difficult task."
"I am well aware of that," Black replied, interlacing his fingers. His smile held a hint of confidence. He had no intention of hiding his ambitions. After all, he had already repaired the roads and redesigned the town—sooner or later, the Byrd family would find out about it. Trying to cover it up now would be nothing short of foolish.
"But I have faith in myself. I believe I can succeed."
"We have no doubt about that," Viscount Byrd said.
Watching this, he let out a silent sigh of relief. The sense of mystery that had surrounded this young man had diminished considerably in his eyes. In his opinion, this kind of confidence was a hallmark of youth—they always thought they had everything under control, brimming with hope and self-assurance for the future. And that was not necessarily a bad thing.
"However, I think you are being a bit too naive, Mr. Felix. A prosperous town is not so easy to manage. Moreover, as the population here grows, all sorts of problems will inevitably arise. Forgive my bluntness, but we did some research on you before coming here. Frankly speaking, Mr. Felix, I'm afraid your current resources are not sufficient to help you achieve this dream of yours."
Black fell silent, continuing to gaze at the viscount. But the slight dimming of his expression made it clear that he was indeed well aware of this very problem.
Finally! Things were going according to plan!
Viscount Byrd let out a long breath of relief. All the misgivings and doubts that had plagued him since stepping into the castle vanished without a trace. Yes, this young man might have had some hidden agenda, but he was still too young—too naive.
"And that is why we wish to offer you our assistance."
Having figured this out, Viscount Byrd spoke with considerably more ease.
"I'm sure you're aware that Duskwood has never had a proper constabulary to maintain law and order here. Of course, I'll admit life here has been quite peaceful. But if you intend to expand this fief, you will undoubtedly need help. If you so desire, the Byrd family can dispatch a contingent of constables to Dusk Town to help you keep the peace. What do you think of this proposal?"
"Well…"
Upon hearing the viscount's words, Black's expression turned slightly hesitant. He paused for a moment, still undecided on how to respond, when Ophelia's voice—tinged with urgency and anxiety—suddenly echoed in his ear.
"This is a trap! Don't fall for it, My Lord!!"