Chapter 83

An Invisible Line

“Why did you come?”

A field a short distance from the cemetery.
Bill stood there, burning a single corpse with gathered firewood.
Sparks scattered with the wind.

“Where are the others? A comrade died, after all.”
“Comrades? We don’t have that kind of loyalty.”

Bill answered Isaac’s question bluntly.
The Niers gang members who had gone to deliver Isaac’s message to the other gangs had all met their deaths.

“Three of them died. We couldn’t even find the bodies of two—who knows where they ended up. One got stabbed in the back and made it back to the inn. So for the two we couldn’t find, we burned what little belongings they had instead. Not that it mattered—just a few dirty scraps of cloth. They burned up quick.”

Bill’s voice began to tremble.

“Are you crying?”
“Why would I cry over idiots like them dying? It’s just ash in my eyes.”

Bill rubbed at his eyes.

“Do you resent me?”
“They were bastards who deserved to die. Trash that only caused harm if they stayed alive. Good riddance.”
“….”

“But even those bastards… they struggled to survive in their own way. No protection from the guards, so they had no choice but to band together—to protect themselves, to protect their families. Well… it’s all just pathetic excuses anyway. Would’ve been better if I never knew them.”

Bill didn’t take his eyes off the flames.

“The Niers gang is finished now. The only one left is that half-burnt innkeeper. Most who remembered the name ‘Niers’ are either dead or ran off… so there’s no reason to keep using that name anymore.”
“Yeah. You don’t have to play gang leader anymore.”
“Heh… damn, that feels oddly refreshing. So what now? Should I live like a dead rat as a servant in the estate? Or maybe head to Winterband?”

Bill stared at Isaac with bloodshot eyes.

“Go to Vinfelt. That’s your new home.”

In Vinfelt were Besimer and Carlson.
There were also soldiers like Günter—those who had fought alongside the Hell Wolves.
But none of them were particularly resourceful or capable of acting as a mediator.
Bill was the right fit.

“What do I do there?”
“Quartermaster. Tell them I sent you—they’ll put you to work.”
“Can I badmouth you as much as I want over there, young master?”
“Sure. Just don’t let me hear about it.”
“And can I skim a little off the supplies?”
“Keep it reasonable.”

Isaac turned and headed toward the carriage waiting at a distance.

****

“Why did you show me magic?”

When the carriage had drawn close enough that Goethe estate could be seen,
Violet—who had been silently staring out the window—finally spoke.

“Hm?”
“If it becomes known that you can use magic, the entire Goethe family will be in trouble.”
“It was the most efficient way.”
“And if I had told someone? I could’ve reported it to the Marquis. Investigators from the royal family might have been dispatched. You could’ve been arrested.”
“I would’ve dealt with it before that happened.”

Isaac answered indifferently, as if such a scenario would never occur.

“…Did you trust me?”
“Does that matter?”
“It matters to me.”

In an alliance, just as important as whether you can trust the other party…
is whether they trust you.
Of course, words are easy to say—but a person’s expression and eyes reveal how much truth lies behind them.
It was something Violet had learned over years, watching Venders and the Marquis.

“It wasn’t about trust.”
“Then what?”
“You could say I have an invisible line.”

Isaac raised his hand, forming a blade with it.

“Inside this hand are my people. Outside it… I don’t care what happens.”

“Then… does that mean I and the Weissmans are your people?”
“For now… it seems that way.”

Isaac shrugged.

“….”

It was a remarkably clear—and careless—answer, Violet thought.
But she could tell it was genuine.

She couldn’t read anything from Isaac’s expression,
but she had seen him apologize to the Weissmans for Jang’s death.
And she had seen him go to the funeral of a gang leader’s subordinate.

That was enough.

***

“It’s always cold here.”

The carriage arrived at the Goethe estate.
Violet shivered as soon as she stepped out.

“It’s just your imagination.”

Isaac brushed it off, but Violet couldn’t agree.

Another name for Winterband was the Winter Fortress.
Then to her, the Goethe estate felt like a Winter Manor.

Even under the blazing noon sun, with summer still lingering in the North,
Violet felt a chill wind brushing her cheeks.
Whether it was because of the Count’s presence,
or the century-long history embedded in the estate—she couldn’t tell.

“Shouldn’t I greet the Count?”
“My father doesn’t care much for formalities. He spent most of his life among soldiers in Winterband, so he prefers being alone in the estate. Do you have business with him?”
“No.”
“Then let’s go.”

***

They entered the main building, went up the central hall’s staircase, and turned left.
At the end of the corridor stood double doors leading into a long chamber—
the estate library.

Aside from secret manuals and confidential family documents,
all ordinary books and records were stored there.
And in the room stood a piano.

Before she left the continent, the Lady of the Goethe family used to play piano here with her children.

A lively piano melody tickled Violet’s ears.
Bright, bouncing staccato notes that lifted the listener’s spirit.
For a moment, the worries that always filled Violet’s mind faded away.

“Let’s go in quietly.”

Isaac carefully opened one side of the double doors and stepped inside.

“This is…”

Following him in, Violet couldn’t help but gasp.

“You can see it, can’t you?”

“….”

She couldn’t even answer.

A gentle breeze flowed through the library.
Unlike the cool northern wind outside, this one was warm—like spring.
It softly stirred Jonas’s hair as he played, just enough not to disturb him.
At least, that was all Isaac could see.

But Violet saw more.

Countless spirits—like tiny, formless beings—gathered around Jonas.
They had no eyes, no noses, no mouths—no faces, no bodies, no limbs.
They didn’t resemble any animal or plant.
Primitive, almost insignificant beings—like infants among spirits.

And yet, there were so many of them,
clustered around Jonas like stars.

As if responding to his music, they pulsed and moved with the rhythm.
A strange… yet wondrous sight.

Mesmerized, Violet unconsciously took a step forward—

The piano stopped.
And the spirits scattered, fleeing in all directions.

“Ah…”

A quiet sigh escaped her lips.
She wanted to see more—hear more.
But the higher-ranked spirit she had contracted frightened the lesser ones away.

“Huh? Big brother?”
“Jonas.”

Jonas hopped off the piano bench and ran straight to Isaac.
Isaac gently ruffled his hair.

Violet couldn’t take her eyes off him.

Blond hair. Blue eyes.

His features were a mirror image of the Count’s, yet softer—rounder, cuter.
It reminded her of the older brother she had been separated from at the orphanage, before she was adopted into the Fleur family.
Especially the gentle curve of his eyes—they were alike.

In this estate, which felt unbearably cold to her, only the space around Jonas seemed filled with warmth.

“Violet, Violet?”
“Ah—yes.”

Violet, who had briefly sunk into memories of her brother, came back to herself.

“This is Jonas, my younger brother. And Jonas, this is Violet. She works with me.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Second Young Master. My name is Violet de la Fleur.”
“Hello, Lady Fleur. My name is Jonas von Goethe. It is an honor to meet you.”

Jonas bowed his head politely.
The innocence he showed around Isaac vanished in an instant.

Violet was slightly taken aback.
She hadn’t expected someone who barely reached her waist to greet her with such formality.

“You can just call me Violet. I’m… not really a noble anymore.”
“Yes, Violet.”

Jonas nodded.

“Jonas. I told you I’d introduce you to a teacher, right? From now on, Violet will be teaching you.”
“Huh? I like learning from you more, big brother.”
“She’ll teach you things I can’t.”
“Things you can’t? You know everything, big brother.”
“There’s still a lot I don’t know.”

Isaac smiled.
There truly were many things he didn’t know—
and many more he needed to learn.

“If you behave, I’ll tell you old stories before bed.”
“Really? Every day?”
“Yeah. At least on the days I’m at the estate.”
“Really? You promise?”

Jonas beamed brightly.

“Have I ever lied to you?”
“Nope, never. Hehe.”

Jonas grinned, and Isaac smiled along with him.
Violet blinked.
It was such an unfamiliar sight to her.

“Big brother, what’s a womanizer?”
“A… womanizer?”
“Yeah. People call you that.”
“Uh… well…”

Isaac scratched his forehead awkwardly.
He glanced at Violet for help, but this wasn’t something she could assist with.

“Then what’s a rake?”
“…That’s me too, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. I asked Finn and Paul too, but they said I don’t need to know.”

If Jonas had grown up in the back alleys, he would have already known such things even at nine.
But he had lived mostly within the estate, so he knew nothing of it.
In truth, Isaac wasn’t much different.
From his youth until old age, he had been consumed by a single obsession.

“What does it mean? You know, right? You know everything.”
“Well… I’m not completely sure, but… a womanizer is someone who’s very good at… handling the wind… and a rake is…”

Isaac ended up sweating under Jonas’s questions for quite some time.

“…What a strange person.”

Watching him, Violet muttered quietly.

How could someone who had so coldly orchestrated the deaths of so many be this gentle?
At times he seemed like a monster, yet at others, like a boy eight years younger than her.
And then again, he felt as though he were decades older.

Only after handing Jonas off to the servants did Isaac finally let out a breath.

***

“Which one is the real you?”

Walking down the corridor, Violet finally asked the question she had been holding in.

“What do you mean?”
“The young master who planned the massacre of a hundred people—and the one I just saw with your younger brother. Which one is the real you?”
“Both.”

Isaac’s answer was clear.

“Like I said, I only have one standard. Whether someone is inside the line—or outside it.”
“…That’s simple.”

To Violet, it sounded like a warning.
Don’t step outside the line. Don’t become his enemy.

They walked through the garden.
Servants and gardeners they passed bowed deeply to Isaac before quickly moving away.
Their faces clearly showed discomfort—
fear of his mana explosion, and fear of drawing his ire.

Knowing who you’re dealing with was fundamental.
Violet had learned enough about Isaac.

That he possessed a unique constitution that risked mana explosions.
That he had been granted the barren territory of Vinfelt.
There were rumors he had slain Hell Wolves there with exceptional swordsmanship, though nothing confirmed.
At the estate, however, he was said to disregard guards, assault them, constantly drink wine, and bring maids into his chambers.

To her, he was impossible to grasp.

“You saw it, didn’t you?”

After a silent lap around the garden, Isaac suddenly spoke.

“…What?”
“When Jonas was playing the piano.”
“You saw it too?”

Violet asked in surprise.
Only spiritists could see spirits.

“No. I can’t. I don’t have the sight.”
“Then how…?”
“I can still feel them. Countless… undefined presences.”

Undefined presences.
Was there a more accurate way to describe them?

The birth of spirits was pure coincidence.
That coincidence layered upon itself over immeasurable time,
until it became part of nature—something with intellect and rank.

…

Violet stared at Isaac.

The way he described those lesser spirits—
it wasn’t something one could say without a deep understanding of spirit arts.

“Violet.”
“…Yes.”

“Teach Jonas spirit arts.”

Isaac met her gaze as he said it.