CHAPTER 93: TRIPLET’S FATHER

Whipping his head toward Fian, Gara felt the irony sink in.

The elf only spoke when it came to this, when it was about staying with him. That alone proved how desperately Fian wanted to remain by his side.

"...Alright. You’ll come with us. But let’s promise to look out for each other." Gara placed both hands firmly on Fian’s shoulders.

The elf nodded, determined, though his eyes still shimmered with unshed tears.

Together, they finished packing.

They didn’t own much, but Gara’s jars and experiment tools took up plenty of space. Those would be shipped ahead to their Merchant House office in town.

The rest was mostly baby supplies—lots of them. Toys, a washbasin, tiny clothes of different styles and functions, almost all designed by Gara and crafted by Fian.

It would be a waste to leave them behind. If they couldn’t carry everything, they’d send them to the Merchant House as well.

Speaking of which, Gara quickly contacted their manager, Hilda.

"Hilda, I’ll be sending some things to the office. We might come in person soon. Could you arrange a private lodging for us?"

"Of course, Master Gara."

Gara allowed himself a breath of relief. Hilda was incredibly capable, the kind of manager Tristan had been wise enough to appoint.

...

Inside a lavish chamber that looked more like a study, a middle-aged woman with thick, curly dark red hair sat in an elegant formal dress.

Her sharp gaze locked onto the handsome young man standing before her.

The deep black irises clashed with bright blue ones in silence.

"Langga," the woman’s voice—still beautiful despite her age—rolled through the ivory-toned room, "tell your mother why you’re dissatisfied with Count Dany’s daughter this time."

Langga’s reply was calm, yet firm. "Mother, she paid someone to stage an attack just to gain my sympathy. That’s outright deception."

"She only did that because you neglect her. Isn’t such desperation a little... charming?"

Langga’s jaw twitched, disbelief flickering across his face. Apparrently, It looks like his mother’s standards have fallen because he stayed unmarried for so long.

But he chose not to argue.

"Langga," his mother continued, her tone sharper, "the nobility has begun to whisper. They say we use these engagement arrangements to plunder the wealth of other houses.

You’ve claimed estates, mines, and farmlands. You even demanded half the income from Count Raksa’s three major mines. Three mines, Langga!

Enough to feed two generations of their line. We don’t need more wealth. What use is it, if you have no children to inherit? Stop driving these women away."

Despite his mother’s fury, Langga remained composed. "Mother, I’ve never wronged them. What I demanded was compensation for the damages they caused me.

Would you truly allow some reckless woman without morals or dignity to walk into this house and claim the title of Madam?"

"I don’t care!" his mother burst out. "No matter how terrible she is, I just want to hold a grandchild—soon!"

Langga exhaled slowly, his gaze as steady as ever. "If there’s nothing else, Mother, I’ll take my leave."

"You dare run from me?" The woman slammed the marble desk, and heat flared through the room.

Flames erupted across the marble floor, encircling Langga. Not a single object in the chamber was flammable, as if the place had been prepared for such fiery outbursts.

Unruffled, with his Telekinesis Talent, he drew three square-shaped vases to his feet. The vases floated upward, stacking into a staircase.

Step by step, he rose above the flames, and calmly walked out of the circle.

"LANGGA!" his mother’s roar shook the room.

But by then, Langga had already opened the door and left the scorching chamber behind.

In the grand corridor, his pace was unhurried. He was long accustomed to this.

His mother was no fool, after all how else could a woman single-handedly preserve and expand a duchy if she were?

The thing is, his mother knew that the women she chose were decent women. It was Langga himself who drew out the darkness hidden inside them, coaxing those seeds to the surface, little by little

Every human carried the seed of corruption within. The question was whether they restrained it or allowed it to bloom.

This deliberate manipulation, his mother recognized all too well.

And so, though she feared unworthy women stepping into their household, what truly terrified her was Langga’s cunning... the very cunning that might drive every woman away.

Everything was in his hands. The only thing Langga hadn’t expected was that night with Gara.

He had planned to spend the night alone at the inn until the drug’s effect faded, but Gara’s arrival—with that strangely sweet scent—completely clouded his mind.

At first, Langga thought Gara was someone sent by Count Raksa’s daughter to make him lose control.

But no, Gara turned out to be nothing more than a naive commoner boy from a village, someone who didn’t know a thing about schemes, or so he thought.

For nine months since their separation, Langga had felt something missing inside him.

As if a part of himself was no longer with him.

And he truly had no idea what that missing piece was.

...

Later that afternoon, Tristan arrived at the bamboo house at the same time as Madha.

The tall young man wanted to greet the man who had officially become his superior, but seeing Tristan’s grim expression, he only offered a brief nod and walked in silently.

Inside, everyone wore the same serious look.

Madha was asked to wait outside. The matter to be discussed was strictly ’family business.’

Truthfully, Gara felt guilty about treating Madha that way. After all, everything Madha had done for them was no different from how family would act.

But the truth remained: Madha wasn’t truly part of their family. He still had his own.

The small bedroom looked cramped with three cribs and four adults gathered inside.

Tristan’s eyes softened as he looked at the triplets, fast asleep.

If they hadn’t been in such a rush, he would’ve loved to hold those tiny, adorable babies for a while.

Nevertheless, it could only wait.

...