The silence only made Seo-jun more nervous. He forced an awkward grin, then returned to spooning his food as if nothing had happened.
A short while later, Alaric sat back down with their father and mother. Margaret Hanwick was still staring at her second son, the shock on her face yet to fade.
Lucien seemed to be struggling to hold back his laughter, his shoulders trembling slightly. In contrast, Alaric grew even more devout—his lips never stopped murmuring sacred verses, as though he believed every word might erode the "demon" he thought had taken root too deeply within Adrian's body.
Those strange stares made Seo-jun increasingly uncomfortable. He returned them with a sharp look.
"Why?"
he asked curtly.
"Is that not allowed?"
Lucien slowly shook his head.
"It is not, Brother. The kingdom's Archbishop is very sensitive about such matters. Excessive requests—even for holy water—can be interpreted as a symbol of human greed. The Church does not look kindly upon worldly avarice, especially when it appears that one is never satisfied."
"Oh…"
Seo-jun nodded lightly.
"All right. I apologize."
The words landed like a bomb.
It was no longer mere silence—this was pure shock.
Whispers immediately spread. The gazes of the nobles shifted, as though they had just witnessed a rare phenomenon.
Margaret suddenly rose from her chair and pressed her palm to Seo-jun's forehead.
"You're not running a fever…"
she murmured in panic.
"But why are you behaving so strangely, my child? Are you truly all right?"
Seo-jun shook his head.
"What's wrong with that? I only said I was sorry. Isn't that normal? Sorry, thank you, excuse me, please."
Before he could finish his sentence, Margaret suddenly collapsed back into her seat.
The servants hurried to support her. Through her tears, the woman patted Alaric's shoulder.
"My son…"
she sobbed.
"Go ahead with the purification. I am certain Adrian is completely under the demon's control."
"What—?"
Seo-jun gasped.
"No! I'm perfectly fine!"
Lucien finally could not hold himself back any longer.
He burst into loud laughter—unrestrained, nearly careless of etiquette. Even his face, usually lowered, now shone brightly, as though he had found the greatest entertainment of his life.
Their father rubbed his chest, his face pale. He summoned his personal secretary and asked to be escorted to his study.
Not long after, the dining room was left with only three people.
Alaric stood, wiping his lips with a handkerchief.
"Remember,"
he said coldly.
"Nine o'clock in the morning. On time. If you dare to run away or fail to appear—the Holy Knights will drag you to the monastery."
Without waiting for a response, he turned and left.
Seo-jun let out a long breath. His head felt heavy from the drama that had just unfolded. He returned to finishing what remained of his meal.
Lucien stood up, his eyes sparkling.
"Brother Adrian,"
he said as he patted Seo-jun's shoulder.
"You've given me tremendous inspiration. I will paint my finest work for you. Just wait."
He ran out with boundless enthusiasm.
Now, Seo-jun was alone.
He leaned back in his chair and let out a quiet sigh.
"I have no idea what sin I committed in my previous life… to be granted a family like this. Strange. Exhausting. And utterly incomprehensible."
After finishing his meal, Seo-jun left the dining room.
The servants immediately began clearing away the remaining dishes. Food that was still edible was taken back to the kitchen for them to share, while anything close to spoiling would be distributed to beggars in the streets.
In this era, nothing was allowed to go to waste.
Everything was too valuable—even leftover food, even holy water, even sanity.
Seeing firsthand everything that he had previously known only from books strengthened Adrian's resolve.
If the destruction of this family was truly fate, then at the very least, he would slow it down—or, if possible, break it entirely.
With forced courage, Adrian knocked on the door of Edmund Hanwick's study—his father's.
A voice from inside granted him permission to enter.
Seo-jun slowly opened the door and stepped inside, passing by his father's personal secretary, who looked at him with undisguised dislike.
The man had never hidden his hatred for Adrian Hanwick—in his eyes, the second son of this family was nothing more than a liability steadily eroding the family's reputation.
Edmund studied his son's face carefully.
There was no trace of the arrogance he usually saw.
No hint of disdain.
For the first time, Edmund felt something unfamiliar—HOPE.
"What is it, my child?"
he asked flatly.
"What is it that you wish to say?"
Seo-jun took a long breath, then returned the gaze of the
dignified old man before him.
"I wish to state that I want to become the heir who carries on Father's duties,"
he said firmly.
"Not because I merely like money. I want to run the business Father has built with all my strength—to develop it further, and to bring greater prosperity to this region."
Edmund nodded slowly.
However, before he could say anything, his personal secretary immediately interjected, advising Edmund to reconsider such a decision—for the sake of the family.
Seo-jun cast a cynical look at the man in his thirties.
Arrogance was clearly etched on his face. Simply because he had earned Edmund's trust, the man felt entitled to look down on his own young master—openly dredging up Adrian's past faults right in front of his father, as though he had forgotten that one day, the person he belittled might become his lord.
In the end, Edmund agreed with the secretary's suggestion.
He then imposed a condition.
Seo-jun had to create a product—without any assistance from him. If the product sold on the market, and even managed to attract loyal customers, then Edmund would acknowledge him and begin personally educating him as a future successor.
Seo-jun smiled faintly.
"Very well, Father,"
he said with resolve.
"Please take good care of your health. I want you to witness your son's success with your own eyes."
Back in his room, Seo-jun immediately sat down at his desk, staring at a blank sheet of paper.
"What could sell well in this era,"
he murmured,
"cheap to produce, yet with high market value?"
He sketched, crossed things out, arranged idea after idea—
yet none of them felt right. Without realizing it, the time had reached two in the morning.
With an exhausted body and a mind full of calculations, he finally lay down on the bed.
And fell asleep.
The next morning, even before seven o'clock, the Holy Knights arrived with excessive commotion.
Still half-awake, Seo-jun was adorned with various lavish accessories—necklaces, robes, sacred symbols—on the grounds that the ritual would be attended by nobles, and even representatives of the Kingdom of Aurelion Albion.
The gazes of the Holy Knights pierced sharply.
So sharply that Seo-jun felt his throat go dry.
The urge to flee surfaced again and again.
But it was already too late.
Once the preparations were complete, he was immediately placed under tight escort. Even as he boarded the horse-drawn carriage, the knights remained stationed on his right and left—ready to act if Seo-jun dared to jump out.
This was not an escort.
This was custody over a potential fugitive.
And inside the softly creaking carriage, Seo-jun could think of only one thing:
If this ritual failed… or succeeded a little too well…
his new life might end far sooner than he had anticipated.