She had done nothing wrong, and she refused to apologize as though she had.
Because if she did, it would become the truth. It would mean she really had done something wrong.
And then any chance of explaining herself to her grandfather would vanish entirely.
But would this situation ever actually end?
Just as Riersha’s resolve began to waver, the door burst open and someone walked in.
He was a man with silver hair and crimson eyes, and something about the sharpness of his features made him look cold. He glanced around the room, then let out a short, amused scoff.
“…Good heavens. The young duke has returned, hasn’t he?”
Someone murmured in a daze.
At those words, Riersha’s eyes went wide as she stared at the man.
He stepped inside without the slightest concern for the gazes fixed on him.
“What a spectacle. What exactly is going on here? The guardian hasn’t even arrived yet, and you’re proceeding without them.”
In Pernoa’s hand was a single sheet of paper, held with deliberate casualness.
It appeared to read: Summons to the Disciplinary Committee.
“H-how did that end up in the Young Duke’s hands…?”
Marquess Crender muttered, his face flushed with confusion.
“Oh, this?” Pernoa clicked his tongue and glanced toward Arcmund.
The summons had been written and sent by Arcmund himself. The ducal seal was clearly visible, stamped onto the document.
Riersha stared at it, her expression stunned.
She could scarcely believe that her grandfather had called her father on her behalf.
On the surface, it appeared to be a gesture toward fairness — but anyone watching knew it was a favor extended to Riersha.
“A guardian is required by law to attend any disciplinary committee. Marquess Crender — ah, don’t tell me you didn’t know that?”
Pernoa settled into the seat beside Riersha and fixed the Marquess with a sideways stare. Marquess Crender broke into a cold sweat and quietly averted his eyes.
“Quite an experience, this. First time something like this has happened while raising a child. Refreshing, really. I suppose I should thank the Marquess — it did speed up my return considerably.”
With those words, Pernoa formally announced that he had come back to the family for good.
And in an instant, the entire atmosphere of the room shifted.
The nobles began to murmur at the sight of the young duke.
Ivel, noticing that Marquess Crender seemed to be losing ground, visibly panicked and shrank behind the Marquess’s back. Watching his firm pillar of support crumble so suddenly had frightened him in turn.
“So which one is Ivel? Is it you — the one hiding back there?”
Pernoa folded the document carelessly and asked.
Ivel flinched at being singled out.
“Did you pull my daughter’s hair?”
Pernoa asked with a pleasant smile. Ivel shook his head frantically.
“…N-no! I never did anything like that!”
“T-that’s right. Do you have proof? Go on, say it in front of everyone, Ivel. Didn’t you tell me it was Riersha who pushed you first?”
Marquess Crender turned to Ivel in a rush.
But Ivel’s darting eyes, the way he gnawed at his lip in anxiety, the way he couldn’t meet anyone’s gaze — it was the unmistakable picture of a child caught in a lie.
Pernoa watched it all at his leisure, and his crimson eyes narrowed just slightly.
“It seems you’ve forgotten who my aide is. Rosinante — bring the evidence.”
“Yes, Young Duke.”
Rosinante, who had been standing behind Arcmund, stepped forward and produced a viewing stone.
A moment later, it began to play. The scene unfolded clearly: Ivel approaching Riersha first, initiating the confrontation, then grabbing her hair and pulling.
“N-no, Father! No, it wasn’t like that!”
His wrongdoing had been exposed — and worse, so had the lie he’d told to cover it. Ivel’s face went a sickly greenish-white.
“Ivel, this is nothing like what you told me!”
Marquess Crender turned on Ivel with sharp fury, lashing out at him as he realized the trap he had so carefully laid was about to snap shut on him instead.
This gathering included Duke Arcmund and every noble of consequence. If his family name came under scrutiny here, their decline would only be a matter of time.
When the recording ended, Pernoa spoke.
“Marquess Crender. Do you have anything more to say?”
“…W-well, children do tend to tell fibs — it’s in their nature, isn’t it? They’re just children, after all. If you could find it in yourself to overlook this just this once…”
Marquess Crender began to squirm and plead, his tone growing more wretched by the second.
As things unraveled far beyond what he had planned and the room grew loud with murmuring, Arcmund rose from his seat and struck the floor once with his cane.
It was a quiet sound — but the room fell still in an instant, as though cold water had been thrown over it.
“Marquess Crender. Do you have any objection to Ivel Crender being expelled from the main estate?”
“Y-Your Grace! Surely—!”
Marquess Crender went pale as a sheet.
Expulsion from the main estate was tantamount to a severing of ties with House Arcmund entirely.
The Marquess had long used the Arcmund ducal family as his shield, and the hand that gripped his own now trembled visibly.
With so many enemies, House Crender would become prey in no time at all.
“Apologize this instant, Ivel!”
Marquess Crender snapped, his voice cutting and sharp. Ivel sank to his knees, the color drained from his face.
Ivel had always ranked among the best in the annex. He had carried himself with the confidence to match. The possibility that he might be expelled from the main estate had never once crossed her mind.
“I-I’m sorry, Lady Riersha. I will never be so disrespectful again. Please, show me some leniency—!”
In the cold silence that had settled over the room, the Duke rose and left without a word.
The nobles who had been watching carefully began slipping out one by one, quickly following his lead. A few even covered their faces as they went — absurd as it was — afraid of being remembered by Pernoa.
“I suggest you take your child and go, Marquess Crender.”
“Y-Young Duke!”
Ivel cried out desperately at being dismissed so plainly.
If it ended like this, he would be nothing but a nuisance back home — the child the family had to bear.
It couldn’t end this way. He had to stop the expulsion from the main estate, no matter what.
“Marquess Crender — do you have an objection?”
“I— no, of course not.”
Marquess Crender began pulling Ivel out of the room.
It stung, losing the child’s place in the annex — but there was nothing to be done.
Ivel isn’t the only heir candidate. I’ll bring another child to the main estate next year.
Marquess Crender reached his conclusion quickly.
Ivel, who had glimpsed the calculation behind those eyes, let out a wail as he understood he was being abandoned.
“Father! What are you doing?! You know what happens to my future if I’m expelled like this! …Father, Father!!”
Bang. The door closed.
Riersha stared after Pernoa in a daze, bewildered by how swiftly it had all ended.
But she couldn’t quite bring herself to call out to him.
As if reading her thoughts, Pernoa spoke first.
“It’s been a while, Riersha.”
“…”
“Quite a lot of time has passed, I suppose. You’re already walking around on your own.”
Pernoa gave a small, wry smile. He held up the disciplinary summons with an amused flick of his wrist.
“I come back to the estate and the very first thing I’m handed is a summons to a disciplinary committee. Impressive.”
“…hic.”
Riersha began to hiccup, completely unable to tell whether he was praising her or scolding her.
Was he saying that she had a lot of nerve, dragging him to a place like this the moment he returned?
She brought her small hand up to cover her mouth, self-conscious. Her tiny fingers pressed against her lips in a feeble attempt to stop the hiccups.
Rosinante, watching the reunion of father and daughter from behind, quietly shook his head.
And so, the long-anticipated meeting ended with a hiccup.
⁂
“Lady Riersha!”
“Sona!”
The moment they stepped out of the Tower of Truth, Riersha ran straight to Sona.
She could feel Pernoa’s blatant gaze on her back, but she pretended not to notice and buried herself in Sona’s arms.
Every last bit of tension drained out of her at once.
“You did so well. I’m so proud of you, my lady! Shall we go back to your room, have something delicious, and rest?”
“Mm-hm…”
“I’ll stay with you tonight until you fall asleep.”
Sona noticed Pernoa drawing closer and quickly rose to her feet.
“I greet the Young Duke.”
“That’s enough formality.”
Pernoa waved a hand to say there was no need for ceremony.
Riersha felt her shoulders jump at the sound of his voice right behind her.
“Lady Riersha?”
“Hm?”
“Aren’t you happy to see the Young Duke? You’d been wanting to meet him for so long.”
Sona whispered. Riersha snuck a glance at Pernoa — and the moment their eyes met, she spun her head sharply away.
It was a strange thing.
She had wanted to see Pernoa. She really had. But now that he was actually here in front of her, a strange distance had settled between them. In a word—
“I want to go to my room, Sona. I want to go back to my room.”
“…Pardon? Yes, of course, my lady. Then, Young Duke — we’ll take our leave.”
Sona followed along wherever Riersha led, but couldn’t help glancing back in bewilderment.
