By dinner time, the group had temporarily set aside all those unpleasant topics. As usual, Ophelia did not make an appearance. Black, as the host, had to attend the feast to entertain his guests. His expression, however, was far from pleasant. In Viscount Byrd's eyes, though the young lord tried his best to look composed, the faint shadows lingering on his face betrayed his true emotions. It was clear that his proposal was a hard pill for Black to swallow—and that was precisely why Viscount Byrd had put it forward in the first place.
The dinner was not particularly lavish, but the juicy, tender steaks and soft, flavorful bread exuded a unique rustic charm. Paired with a bottle of fine-tasting wine, it was more than adequate for a noble's banquet.
Yet that was not the point.
Ophelia sighed softly, tearing her gaze away from the pitch-black forest outside the window and setting down her teacup. Seeing her movement, the little girl standing beside her stepped forward at once, skillfully refilled her cup, then blinked her bright, curious eyes and asked:
"Lady Ophelia, aren't you really going downstairs to dine with the master?"
"Now is not the time, Irene."
Ophelia shook her head. She understood the little girl's thoughts. Ever since she had become Black's second-in-command, the two of them had eaten together every day, discussing and debating various matters. Ophelia always did her best to offer him her opinions and insights, while Black would tell her stories and truths she had never heard before. It had to be said—these were peaceful, comforting days for Ophelia. She could never have acted so freely in the royal palace, and in the outside world, she had always had to be cautious of every word and deed. To chat so casually with a young man like this was something she had never imagined. What was more, Black was a witty conversationalist, with a certain undeniable charm. But today, she had to stay alone in the study, facing her dinner by herself. Though the meal was far more sumptuous than usual, when one had no appetite for food, even the most delicious dishes would taste bland.
But Ophelia's worries ran deeper than that. She was still silently "eavesdropping" on the conversation between the two men in the dining hall. Clearly, Black had no intention of bringing up that annoying topic again, and Viscount Byrd only occasionally chatted about trivial anecdotes from his domain—there seemed to be no conflict between them. Yet Ophelia knew full well that things were not nearly so simple. Especially after Black had found evidence in the bandits' camp proving that the Byrd family had colluded with them, Ophelia understood exactly why a great noble house like the Byrds had suddenly taken such an interest in a small lord like Black. Obviously, the Byrds had gotten wind of what had happened earlier, and for some reason, they suspected Black was behind it—which was why they had sent a viscount to sound him out.
That was not the problem, however. Ophelia was by no means inexperienced in resolving such issues; she had even faced far more dangerous and urgent crises before. But never had she felt so uneasy as she did now—and the only reason for that was that she had absolutely no idea what Black was thinking. All of Ophelia's preparations and solutions were based on the principle of "reasonableness." But this lord's way of thinking often jumped out of the established norms, always taking unexpected and inexplicable turns.
And now—was this lord really planning to **invite the wolf into his fold**?
Ophelia shook her head helplessly, pushing those unpleasant thoughts aside. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes again. Outside the door, the heavy toll of a bell rang out—it seemed she had been lost in thought for far too long. Glancing at little Irene, who still stood beside her, Ophelia noticed the girl looked concerned about her prolonged silence. When Irene saw her looking over, she was slightly startled, then quickly straightened her posture and stood at attention. But at that very moment, her stomach let out a loud rumble.
"P-Please forgive me, Lady Ophelia! I…"
"It's nothing."
Watching the girl's cheeks flush bright red with embarrassment, Ophelia let out a soft laugh. She thought for a moment, then said:
"Since you're hungry too, why don't we eat together? I'm sure the master is very busy right now… he shouldn't come looking for us."
Black was indeed very busy.
"Frankly speaking, I cannot accept your family's kind offer."
Sitting in the study, Black's brows were furrowed, his expression dark and solemn.
"While I acknowledge that this may lead to many problems, I think your family should be aware that I am the rightful lord of this domain."
"A noble fief, Mr. Felix."
Viscount Byrd lost no time in cutting him off.
"Please do not forget—just as nobles must serve the royal family, you must serve us. Though you now hold a domain of your own, it is a noble fief, not a royal one. I hope you will keep that in mind. This territory was entrusted to your care by us—and as such, I expect you to respect our opinions and suggestions."
Here, Viscount Byrd paused for a moment, enjoying the sight of Black's grim expression with satisfaction before continuing:
"I assume you are also aware that noble fiefs are not hereditary—unless granted to those who have rendered great services to our family. And you, sir, are clearly not among that number. Which means your descendants will not be able to continue living on this land. Mr. Felix, I know you are a young man with ideals. But I also hope you understand that sometimes, **compromising with reality is very important**."
All these threats, laid out so brazenly.
Black sighed inwardly. It seemed the Byrd family was truly determined to provoke him. Ever since they had entered the study to negotiate after dinner, this Viscount Byrd had been goading him in every way possible—attacking his identity, his status, and now even his youth.
The time was ripe.
Staring at Viscount Byrd's smiling face, Black decided the moment had come. If he kept up this stalemate any longer and refused to give the viscount an out, it would only complicate his own plans later on. With that thought in mind, he deliberately fell silent, pretending to mull things over for a moment before finally looking up and letting out a long, heavy sigh.
"…It seems I have no choice?"
"This is merely the Byrd family's gesture of goodwill, Mr. Felix."
Seeing Black finally back down, Viscount Byrd smiled triumphantly. All his earlier doubts had vanished now. He was convinced he had this young lord completely figured out. Just as he had thought—Black was nothing more than an ordinary young man: idealistic, ambitious, passionate, and clinging to some unrealistic sense of pride and dignity. Though, he had to admit—the maid uniforms were truly exquisite.
"However, I do have a few conditions."
Black's words came as no surprise to the viscount. After all, he was still a young man—he would want to save face. So Viscount Byrd said nothing more, merely nodding with a gentle smile.
"I'm all ears."
"First of all, I hope that any men you send will fly my family's banner. Please understand, Viscount— I have my own difficulties."
"That… is certainly no problem."
Viscount Byrd thought for a moment, then nodded in agreement. This was not a difficult request to fulfill—and in fact, it would be even more beneficial to their plans.
"Second."
Black held up two fingers.
"I hope your family can provide me with a clear demarcation map."
"A demarcation map?"
This request struck Viscount Byrd as rather odd. What on earth did he need that for? But Black clearly saw his confusion and quickly explained:
"You see, Viscount—when I received this fief from your family, I was given complete and legal authorization documents. However, the boundary lines were never clearly defined. I know that Duskwood is my territory, but I have no precise knowledge of its exact borders. After all, as you said, this land was once under your family's jurisdiction, so no clear boundaries were ever established. But now, since your family is sending a constabulary force to assist me, this is a matter that must be resolved. Otherwise, if any accidents occur in the future and we cannot agree on who is responsible, wouldn't that become a very troublesome situation?"
"That… you make a valid point."
Viscount Byrd was taken aback. He really had not considered this issue before. But now that Black had mentioned it, it was clearly something that could not be ignored. After all, if something did happen along the Golden Trade Route in the future, this young lord could simply wash his hands of the matter and shift all the blame onto the Byrds—which would indeed be a great hassle.
But surely boundary demarcation was something that should have been sorted out at the time of the fief's transfer?
Viscount Byrd frowned slightly. He could easily guess the reason why it had not been done. No doubt the underlings in his family had regarded this young lord as a dead man walking—so why bother going to the trouble of drawing up precise boundary lines for someone who would be a corpse in six months or a year? Once he was dead, Duskwood would simply revert to the Byrd family anyway.
Besides, demarcating boundary lines was no easy task. Though previous lords of Duskwood had drawn up their own boundary maps, the scope of Duskwood had changed considerably over time. Land that had once belonged to Duskwood was now part of the Golden Trade Route. If they were to produce those old boundary maps, they would be forced to hand over a portion of the Golden Trade Route's profits to Black—and that was something the Byrd family would never tolerate.
For this reason, boundary demarcation was a time-consuming and labor-intensive process that would require negotiations, compromises, and mutual recognition. Though, facing a powerless little lord like Black, there was really no need for negotiations at all. But even so, Viscount Byrd thought it would be a complete waste of time to bother with a man who was as good as dead.
But now it seemed their thinking might have to change.
"I understand your request. I will see to it when I return."
"Very well."
Black nodded, his expression still grim—clearly, he still seemed dissatisfied with this decision. But he opened his mouth, then closed it again, saying nothing more.
"Then, since the night is growing late… Viscount. You must be tired after your long journey. Please rest well."
"Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Felix."
Viscount Byrd rose to his feet, nodded with a smile, then turned and walked out of the study.
And because of that, he did not see the cold, sharp smile that tugged at the corners of Black's lips the moment his back was turned.
The heavy sound of the door closing echoed through the study. Black laced his fingers together, leaning back silently in his chair. Then he reached out, picked up the bell on the desk, and rang it softly.
*Knock knock knock.*
The sound of knocking came almost immediately. The door opened, and a maid with cascading golden hair stepped inside. Her fair, lovely face wore a calm, gentle smile as she looked at Black, her emerald-green eyes sparkling with curiosity.
"You called for me, Master?"
In response to the maid's question, Black did not answer immediately. He first turned to glance at the dark night outside the window, then spoke:
"There is no moon tonight. Truly a perfect night, don't you think?"
"…?"
"Charlotte, inform your sisters. Since we have honored guests who have traveled so far to visit us, would it not be a shame not to show them the true charm of this ancient castle?"
"Understood, Master!"
At these words, a flash of excitement lit up the maid's eyes. She nodded with a smile—but then she pouted slightly, as if she had a minor complaint about Black's choice of words.
"However, Master. Forgive my impertinence—but if I may say so, the full moon nights are far more *atmospheric*."