Time of the Blind Beast - Chapter 63

A middle-aged man who had come down the stairs strode forward, pushing aside the long line of servants in the hallway.

Akenaus stared fixedly at the face of his father, who was slowly approaching. A man with caramel-tinged blond hair and pale blue eyes, often cited as the epitome of intellect and refinement, bore little resemblance to his two sons except for his tall height.

With slight variations, the blackish hair, dark irises, and delicate features had all come from their mother. Ezekiel, at least, resembled their father in stature and muscular build, while Akenaus had inherited their mother’s slim physique.

“Ah, Father. You were home. I didn’t know, since the study was empty.”

Akenaus forced a smile through gritted teeth. Yet his father’s expression did not change. His furrowed gaze slowly dropped from Akenaus’s face to the rifle in his hand.

“What’s that in your hand?”

Tsk, a clicking tongue followed. He’d grown used to this reaction lately—it didn’t even faze him anymore.

“They say you came home drunk again today, and now you don’t even seem to know what time or place you’re in.”

At his father’s reprimand, Akenaus’s lips gradually twisted. Though his mouth was smiling, his eyes were cold.

“There’s a limit to drunkenness. Put it down.”

“I admit I’ve been lax lately. But I’ve decided it’s time to pull myself together and discern time and place.”

Even at his father’s command, Akenaus didn’t comply but instead readjusted his grip on the rifle.

“So about that, I heard an interesting bit of news, Father.”

He didn’t beat around the bush. Instantly, the air around the mansion grew icy.

“You’re not even going to ask what news? I suppose you already know.”

“If something reaches your ears, it should’ve reached mine as the head of the house even earlier.”

His father didn’t deny Akenaus’s veiled probe. Though doubts lingered, at least one conclusion was certain. Whatever the method, Ezekiel’s sight had returned.

Moreover, his father had been involved. He had kept Akenaus thoroughly out of the loop, even silencing his messengers, just to protect Ezekiel.

A choking sense of crisis gripped him. Akenaus wiped the fake smile off his face.

“So I, too, need at least one way to protect myself, don’t I?”

“And you think that gives you the right to wave a gun around in the house?”

“Then you should’ve established the firstborn’s authority properly from the start.”

This truly was his father’s fault. He himself had been born first, inherited Valdemaira without effort, and enjoyed its privileges all his life—so why pit his sons against each other and create this mess?

It’s the same in any house. When the established order is overturned, disaster follows. Especially in a family like Valdemaira, with honor and wealth at stake.

His father should never have hinted at giving the title to Ezekiel over his older brother. He should’ve instilled certainty that Akenaus’s position would remain secure. If the hierarchy between brothers had been clearly guaranteed, there would’ve been no sense of insecurity, no anxiety about the future.

“Authority?”

Yes, that exact reaction from his father was the problem. Outwardly so neutral, but if you really examined it, it was full of dismissiveness toward the eldest son.

“Your authority is something you establish yourself.”

If he had to establish his own authority, then wasn’t it natural to take before being taken? If he let his guard down, he’d end up having to serve his younger brother as the master of Valdemaira.

Akenaus clenched the rifle and responded, “Yes, that’s what I intend.”

He had retorted out of sheer defiance, but the anxiety was unbearable.

The more anxious he grew, the more he masked his feelings with a fake smile. But the effect was fleeting. In the end, it was nothing more than a hollow facade.

Akenaus never let go of his loaded rifle, not even while eating or sleeping. The only person who might have reined in his erratic behavior was his father, but even among family, they rarely spent time together. As a result, only the servants were constantly frightened by the rifle being aimed here and there.

“Draw the curtains.”

Once his father, who began his tightly packed schedule at dawn, finished eating and vacated the dining room, Akenaus would rise late and begin his day by having the curtains drawn. Only after ensuring no one could see him from outside did he enter the dining room and take his seat.

The food served in the dining room was always prepared for one person. The servants were accustomed to preparing meals for a single person at different times.

Ezekiel, who had joined the army early and even fought in the war, and a mother who had little affection for her children and prioritized herself above all else, was frequently absent from the estate.

She fulfilled only the bare minimum role expected of a lady of a noble family. Originally betrothed to a member of the Valdemaira family, her sister had died suddenly, and she ended up marrying into the family as a substitute. She did so on the condition that once she bore heirs, she would be guaranteed freedom in all other aspects of her life. Thus, she gave birth to Akenaus and Ezekiel.

And the moment she fulfilled her duty, she claimed only the privileges of being the lady of the house. Once her children were old enough, she spent most of her time vacationing and traveling. That was why the Valdemaira family owned so many secondary estates throughout the country.

Even now, it was the same. When war broke out, the mother had retreated to the relatively safe southern region. She briefly returned to Claris but soon left again for convalescence, driven to nervous exhaustion by the gossip and scrutiny surrounding the Valdemaira family.

So, only two Valdemairas were left to guard this large mansion.

The more he thought about it, the more infuriated he became. Even if Ezekiel had tried his best to protect the nation at the border, he had neglected the main estate. After enlisting, he frequently used training as an excuse to stay away and became unfamiliar with the affairs of the household. In contrast, Akenaus had hardly ever left the estate. If anyone had taken care to ensure the safety and stability of the house, it was him, not Ezekiel.

Then isn’t the one deserving to inherit the Valdemaira name me?

“…Damn it.”

Akenaus kept his rifle on his lap while eating and would immediately grab it and scan his surroundings if he sensed something suspicious. Even if he wasn’t proficient with the weapon, having one was better than nothing.

But the mansion was far too large. There were too many staff. Within such a wide space, countless footsteps echoed constantly, causing extreme mental fatigue. Even when he tried to endure, uncontrollable bursts of anger flared up.

It was absurd that the master of the house had to be wary of his servants. It was the servants who should be careful not to upset their master.

There had been a couple of times. Akenaus had pulled the trigger while his father was away, firing warning shots at the servants. He was in a hyper-sensitive state, reacting to even the smallest noise, and wanted them to avoid needlessly roaming and triggering his nerves.

It couldn’t be helped. Unlike Ezekiel, he lacked the skill to detect intruders by faint movements or to identify people by subtle cues. He wasn’t skilled enough with the rifle to take down enemies with a single shot.

Instead of nagging at the shady servants who lingered suspiciously in his line of sight, it was easier to fire warning shots. Sure, if someone got seriously injured, the aftermath would be troublesome, but the likelihood of him actually hitting anyone was low. So, Akenaus fired without worry. The bullets lodged into walls or doors. Even that was enough to instill fear.

Of course, there was a huge difference between failing to hit and choosing not to hit.

“I wish I could practice shooting…”

Even he found his lack of skill pathetic. If only he had practiced regularly.

But looking for a hunting ground now was also dangerous. An open outdoor space would be like offering himself as a target to Ezekiel.

Lately, Akenaus brought dozens of guards even for short outings. If he couldn’t protect himself, it was smarter to rely on others. Even so, he was extremely careful to only hire people with no ties to Ezekiel.

Still, despite surrounding himself with layers of protection, he could not find peace of mind. Even allowing for the exaggeration of rumors, Ezekiel was famous for his marksmanship. With the ability to shoot enemies dead with pinpoint accuracy even with his eyes closed, it wasn’t hard to imagine him bypassing security and pulling the trigger. The thought was terrifying.

Akenaus ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

Who in this house can I rely on?

If I can’t trust inside or outside the house, where should I be?

Would it be better to lock myself up in a secondary estate like that bastard?