Golden Arrow - Chapter 3

3. What Eurus Wants

“Marry that barbaric woman?!”

Deimos shouted, unable to contain his anger. Eurus picked up the woman’s portrait that Deimos had roughly thrown.

Deimos was Eurus’s half-brother. Born of the Duke and his legitimate wife, Deimos was the heir to the Cavendish family. Though his status was noble, his personality was, unfortunately, cruel and irritable.

Eurus straightened the crooked frame and glanced at the woman in the portrait. The face of the woman with ebony-black hair and pitch-dark, night-like eyes momentarily froze his expression.

“Why are you looking at it like that? Is it because you’re drawn to her?”

Deimos sneered. Eurus was used to Deimos’s mockery. Without responding, he stood straight with a blank expression.

“I’d rather die than marry such a vulgar thing!”

The servants standing by the door secretly snickered. After all, it was Deimos who spent every other day in the company of “vulgar” maids, actresses, and prostitutes.

Just then, the butler knocked on the drawing room door and announced, “Master Eurus, the Duke requests your presence.”

“Why is Father calling that bastard?” Deimos asked sharply.

The butler managed to maintain his composure as he replied, “I’m not sure of the reason…”

“Where is the Duke?” Eurus asked the visibly uncomfortable butler.

“He is in his office. You should go up.”

Deimos looked back and forth between Eurus and the butler. Then he stepped closer to Eurus, hissing in a low voice, “I don’t know what this is about, but keep your mouth shut and don’t cause trouble.”

Feigning brotherly affection, Deimos patted Eurus on the shoulder. Eurus gave a vague nod in reply. Satisfied, Deimos smirked and exited the room.

His half-brother was detestable. The moment Deimos was out the door, Eurus casually brushed his shoulder. It felt like a snake’s cold, slick belly had slithered over him. Frowning for a moment, Eurus quickly erased his expression when he noticed the butler still standing behind him. Smiling faintly, he left the drawing room to head to the office of his father, Ares Cavendish, the Duke of Devonshire.

“You need to travel to Galloway.”

As Eurus entered the office, the Duke looked up from his paperwork and addressed him immediately. His tone was gruff as ever.

“For what reason?”

“The Queen has ordered that the woman who is to marry Deimos be brought here safely and without harm.”

“……”

“Do you refuse?”

The Duke frowned as Eurus failed to respond immediately.

“Is there any particular reason I need to go?”

“If I tell Deimos to bring the woman himself, do you think he’d obey? At least we need someone capable.”

“That’s not my concern,” Eurus replied insolently.

The Duke’s blue eyes lingered on Eurus for a moment before looking away. Their eyes were strikingly similar.

“What do you want in return?”

Finally, Eurus looked up and met his father’s gaze.

“I have a request.”

The Duke stared directly into the eyes of his son, who had inherited the deep blue of his own. Eurus returned the persistent gaze. At his son’s clear and unfeeling stare, the Duke smirked. Ares Cavendish secretly cherished this side of Eurus—the fact that he was not intimidated by him and did not readily obey his orders.

“A request?”

“Grant me control over part of the Devonshire businesses.”

“Business?”

“Yes.”

“Are you interested in business?”

“Since Deimos needs to enter politics, I figured I might as well handle the family’s companies eventually. I’ve been studying bit by bit.”

“You’re presumptuous. I’ve never said you’d manage anything.”

“My apologies.”

Eurus bowed his head immediately. But he had already decided that one day, he would take control of all the Duke’s businesses. After all, the Duke would never allow Deimos to get involved in management.

“What exactly do you want?”

“Start by giving me the textile company. Additionally, I’d like to oversee steel distribution.”

“Steel makes sense, but why textiles?”

In Ingrint, there had been a growing shift from building structures with brick and wood to using steel frames. Though the nobility considered it crude and unsightly, the method dramatically reduced construction time and effort. It would soon revolutionize architecture.

Beyond construction, the newly invented steam engine was set to spark a nationwide industrial revolution, signaling the imminent boom of the steel industry.

In contrast, textiles were a dying industry. Fine fabrics from the continent dominated the market, and Ingrint’s wool industry had taken a severe hit.

Ares Cavendish knew that Eurus had a sharp instinct for trends. For this reason, Eurus’s request for the textile company puzzled him.

“I want to revive something on the verge of collapse.”

The Duke laughed heartily. Despite his delicate appearance, the boy had nerve and ambition. If only Eurus had been his legitimate son, he would have announced him as his heir long ago. Thinking of Deimos—likely sulking somewhere in his mother’s arms—left the Duke with a bitter taste.

“Very well. If that’s what you want, I’ll allow it.”

“Thank you.”

Eurus bowed slightly in gratitude. As he turned to leave the office, his father’s voice stopped him.

“Have you reconsidered the matter of legitimization?”

Since last year, the Duke had been working to add Eurus’s name to the Cavendish family registry. He didn’t need the opinions of his son, Deimos, or his daughter, Harmonia, but he did require the agreement of his wife, the Duchess. For this reason, he had recently been playing the part of a very considerate and good husband.

Fortunately, the Duchess had agreed, provided the Duke guaranteed that Deimos would inherit the title, lands, and most of the fortune. Relatives and vassals had also been placated.

The problem was Eurus. The Duke had assumed that Eurus would eagerly accept the Cavendish name, yet Eurus had declined.

“I’m content as I am. I have no interest in duties or responsibilities.”

It was an answer that would have infuriated any other illegitimate child.

The Duke had begun to covet Eurus, who had already used the allowance given to him to make small investments, grow his wealth, and establish a few respectable businesses. Compared to Deimos, who poured not only his own allowance but also the Duchess’s into Whitechapel, how much more reliable Eurus appeared to be.

Excluding his illegitimate birth, Eurus lacked nothing: intelligence, insight, determination, judgment, and tact. And he was handsome to boot. If legitimized, he could easily carry the Cavendish name with pride.

“I’ll think it over,” Eurus answered succinctly before swiftly leaving the office. Behind him, the Duke’s sigh, filled with both frustration and regret, followed.

Eurus walked slowly back to the now-empty drawing room, a thrill of satisfaction coursing through him. While Devonshire’s businesses would eventually fall into his hands one way or another, accelerating that timeline was a stroke of luck—or so Eurus thought.

He was well aware of his father’s favorable opinion of him. Therefore, if it meant putting up with the annoyance of traveling a long distance to escort some unknown woman, it wasn’t a bad deal if it allowed him to secure what he wanted.

Eurus had no interest in the noble title. As an unofficial member of the Cavendish family, he already enjoyed most of the privileges that came with it. On the contrary, ignoring the duties and responsibilities of nobility gave him greater freedom. His illegitimate status was, in some ways, a blessing. There was no reason to formally join the Cavendish family and shoulder unnecessary obligations.

He sat on the couch and picked up the portrait from the side table. Eurus’s long, pale fingers traced over Psyche’s face. The woman’s deep, black eyes stared back at him from the painting, as if trying to peer into his soul. Her somber expression seemed as dark and gloomy as Scotlin’s weather.

Psyche Stuart.

Though hastily painted, with crude lines and rough colors, Eurus could tell the artist had reached the same conclusion he had about her beauty. The subject of the portrait was beautiful. If the girl he remembered had grown up, she would look exactly like this. He had met that girl once before, in an estate somewhere in Scotlin. Perhaps it really was the same person.

The woman’s firmly pressed, bright red lips seemed to speak to him. “Are you okay?” “Does it hurt?”—pointless concerns like those.

Are you okay? Does it hurt?

Those were words spoken by a child he had met purely by chance. To her, it had likely been a meaningless kindness, but to him, it had been salvation.

Of course, back then, he hadn’t known it was salvation. Sometimes the significance of certain moments only becomes clear with time. Throughout his life, Eurus would occasionally recall those words. And instead of her, he would ask himself: Are you okay? Does it hurt? If he wasn’t okay, he didn’t stay still. If it hurt, he didn’t endure it.

Over time, he had grown up, become an adult acknowledged by the Duke who had brought him into the world. Those two simple words from that girl had been like an oracle, guiding him on how to live.

It wasn’t as though he had spent years yearning for her or wondering about her. Their meeting had been brief, and his grief had been long. There was no reason for him to seek her out deliberately. But now that such an easy opportunity to confirm her identity had appeared, there was no need to pass it up.

His task was simple: fulfill his father’s and the Queen’s orders to drag the ghost of Galloway out of her castle and bring her to Lydon. Along the way, he would confirm whether Psyche Stuart was the same girl who had once spoken those words to him. Whatever happened afterward—whether she married that fool Deimos or divorced him—was none of his concern.

And so, Eurus’s journey to Galloway was decided. While his carriage sped toward Psyche Stuart, the would-be groom Deimos wasted no time. Overjoyed at having passed his responsibilities onto someone else, he promptly flew into the arms of his favorite prostitute in Whitechapel.

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