It is safe to assume that no parent dislikes seeing their child excel.
However, the scramble for the position of Vice President was more intense this generation than ever before. The reason was Violet.
Violet, the current Successor, was the only one of Galizad’s four children who remained unmarried, and she had declared she had no intention of doing so in the future.
If that were the case… couldn’t an exceptionally talented child eventually be adopted as Violet’s own and ascend to the position of Head of House?
Whether for the sentimental reason of feeling lonely in her old age or the strategic necessity of building a power base within the family, the notion was not entirely absurd.
The children born to or adopted by Galizad’s siblings—the so-called collateral lines—dreamed of such things. After all, once one became the child of the Head of House, the scale of available funds shifted entirely. The level of luxury was in a different dimension, and those benefits would undoubtedly flow back to one’s biological parents as well.
That was why everyone wanted their child to wear the title of Vice President.
Violet had never promised to adopt anyone, but she was fully aware of the climate within the family. She never drew a hard line by saying, “That will never happen.”
She was the type to simply say, “We shall see.”
By remaining unmarried, she left a void in the status of “child,” using it to keep the collateral family members in check. It looked moderate on the surface, but it was, in fact, an incredibly sharp psychological war. She held their greed in the palm of her hand.
And Cecilia despised that Violet to her very core.
“Even so, once Raywood becomes the Head of House, everything will be mine.”
Inside the bedroom, decorated in shades of blue that cast a pallid light, Cecilia ground her teeth. She had just instructed her maid to sharpen the tips of her fingernails.
“Still, I can’t stand that such a bundle of pretense is going to be the Head of House. I wish I could just swap out the Successor!”
“Or have the Successor die.”
The voice that answered affectionately from behind belonged to Cecilia’s husband, Bernstein Crichton. He massaged her shoulders carefully, mindful not to offend his wife’s sensibilities, and whispered, “Have you thought about what I discussed the other day?”
“That won’t work. The only one I want to get rid of is Violet. Do you intend to turn the entire Pashayen Estate into a ruin?”
Cecilia glared at him, and Bernstein quickly tucked his tail between his legs.
“Indeed. Then what shall we do?”
“First, Raywood must return.”
The mission assigned to Mical, Diegon’s son, was defensive. He was ordered to visit each village near Mt. Radum—far across the river from the Pashayen capital—to root out the ‘Shadow Humans’ disguised as residents and execute the spies of Bellarion.
On the other hand, the task given to Cecilia’s son, Raywood, was more dangerous and covert. Leveraging his youth to disguise his appearance, Raywood had been infiltrating Bellarion’s territory to gather information. He was due back soon.
Depending on how much merit Raywood earned, Cecilia would be able to hold her head high.
*Then I could ask Father to give me important missions as well.*
Violet, that fox-like creature, had been continuously intercepting missions mid-stream. Because of her, Cecilia hadn’t been entrusted with any substantial work for the past three years. Naturally, there had been no way to earn merit.
*Bernstein isn’t of the Pashayen bloodline. That’s why he keeps spouting nonsense about provoking a territorial war to assassinate Violet.*
In truth, that was the easiest path. Cecilia knew that the power she possessed was only truly useful when large-scale battles broke out.
*But the risk is too great. The estate being ruined… frankly, that’s secondary. If Father finds out the truth, I’m finished.*
Just then, the maid accidentally pricked the tip of Cecilia’s finger. Infuriated, Cecilia swung her hand and struck the maid across the cheek.
“Get out! You useless thing!”
“I, I am sorry.”
“I told you to get out this instant!”
There wasn’t a single person in this house she liked besides Raywood. After fuming for a while, Cecilia met the gaze of Bernstein, who knelt on one knee, looking up at her.
“What? Why?”
“Nothing. I just thought you looked beautiful even when you’re angry.”
“What kind of nonsense is that?”
“You’re beautiful enough to kill.”
Bernstein knew exactly how to soothe the hot-headed Cecilia. As he gently cajoled and pacified her, she finally began to calm down.
“Well, anyway, things have become troublesome. I never expected that commoner, that hateful little thing, to suddenly summon a Spirit King.”
“We should have made them our own child.”
“Exactly. Ricardo, that brat, only envied his older brother. He was quite pathetic.”
Cecilia had two biological children: the talented Raywood and Angela, who didn’t even have a place for a Bijou. Still, since Angela was pretty, she could eventually be sent off for a political marriage to increase their influence. With that calculation, Cecilia had spared no support for her.
But Ricardo… he was a bust.
Better than having nothing, but if she had known he would be so useless, she wouldn’t have stepped forward to adopt him! If she hadn’t, she could have taken that commoner in as her own child this time.
“Speaking of Ricardo, Chessy, that family is protesting continuously.”
“What?”
“It seems they cannot tolerate the Bijou seat being tarnished by a commoner adoptee. They are asking us to step in.”
At her husband’s words, Cecilia wrinkled her nose. Her heart was set on it, certainly. If she couldn’t possess the Bijou, she would rather see it broken.
But ‘Shuperti Pashayen’ was an asset that her father was currently most interested in. If she touched it the wrong way, she would be the one to face the backlash.
“No. Ignore them.”
“Hmm.”
“If I say no, take it as no. At least until proof of their uselessness emerges.”
“But I heard… Angela cried because of that child.”
Bernstein possessed a silver tongue. With his narrow eyes, sharp nose, and defined jawline, he resembled a rat, full of cunning tricks. He lived his life pretending otherwise, carefully choosing words that would make Cecilia’s blood boil.
“Angela had her hair in pigtails first, didn’t she? Since she’s the older sister, it would have looked better for the younger one to yield, but that commoner insisted on their own way.”
“Ha?”
“On top of that, they said the new dress was ruined because it was covered in flour. As a father, it tugged at my heart to hear her crying.”
Bernstein never gave Cecilia orders; he simply circled the issue, causing her to move on her own.
“Even so, since the Head of House personally said to ‘take care of it,’ we have no choice, do we?”
*Scratch.*
Before the words were even finished, Cecilia raked her fingernails across the armrest of the sofa. Her blue-black hair, inheriting the blood of the Medusa from her great-grandmother, stood on end. In an instant, each strand tangled and twisted into the shape of snakes.
“A commoner… trying to pick a pride war with me?”
“Don’t be so angry, Chessy. They probably just ‘don’t know’ anything yet. They will understand once they are ‘taught’.”
At the words of Bernstein, who whispered quietly with his eyes closed, the snakes on Cecilia’s head opened their mouths and let out a threatening *shhh* sound. Cecilia, whose whites had long since turned pitch-black and whose pupils had turned white, trembled violently.
*I cannot let this slide. I must teach them a lesson.*
Even without this, she felt her pride wounded because Angela couldn’t go to the Successor’s Education Hall—and now this pathetic little thing!
“Call Angela! I must break her spirit while she’s young. Even if she is an Awakener, it doesn’t mean she has no sense of order, and for a commoner to dare…!”
Honestly, the one who acted without respect for her own older sister, Violet, was Cecilia. But since she was very generous and lenient with herself, she didn’t think about that fact at all.
“As you command, my lady.”
Bernstein stood up quietly, his eyes still closed. He exited the room and closed the door. Only then did he open his eyes, though, as they were narrow, it was hard to tell the difference. That was why he had been chosen as Cecilia’s husband.
The two were not Bijou’s partners; they were simply joined by a political marriage.
*‘No, is it not even that anymore?’*
Bernstein Crichton’s shadow stretched long as he walked down the hallway.
It was a human shadow, then it wasn’t.
And then, it was a human shadow once again.
That was a fact no one knew.