“Is there some new trend in the capital I don’t know about these days?”

It was a scorching afternoon with the sun blazing overhead.

Leonia, having stepped outside the mansion, sipped a chilled drink under the canopy installed at the grand gate.

Reclining on a long, low chair more suited for a summer villa, wearing tinted sunglasses, she looked exactly like a tourist on a beach holiday.

But make no mistake—Leonia was in the middle of receiving a guest.

“What kind of trash keeps showing up at our house?”

She pushed her round sunglasses up slightly and peered past the gate.

There, standing fully exposed under the relentless sun, was Count Erbanu.

The once-vaunted pink hair of his house had turned nearly white, and his face was deeply lined with wrinkles.

Compared to the brief encounter they’d had at last year’s banquet, he had aged dramatically.

“Even when I was little, there were always fools who didn’t know their place and tried to provoke House Voreoti, like they were begging to be killed.”

Leonia set her drink down on the table and slowly sat up.

“Our dear Count is one of them too.”

Then, she stepped to the very edge of the shadow cast by the canopy.

“Are you coming here because you want to die? That old suicide method must be trending again. Who told you about it? Tabanus? Mereoqa? Glis?”

The families she listed had all been personally wiped out by Ferio six years ago.

Count Erbanu paled. In truth, he had once shown interest in investing in illegal monster trafficking back then.

So he knew very well what the families Leonia had just named had done—and how they had vanished.

Those names, now erased from the world, gripped Erbanu’s throat like a cold hand.

“Lady Voreoti, please,” the Count managed to plead in a strained voice.

“Just once—please let me meet my daughter...”

“There is no daughter of yours here.”

Leonia coldly cut off his plea.

“Do I need to personally explain our household registry to you? This house has three people: my parents and me. Plus the knights and servants.”

Of all those people, she sneered, not one was someone he was allowed to meet.

It was her way of telling him to shut up and go home.

But the Count didn’t give up.

“Varia is here, isn’t she?!”

“Who gave you the right to speak the Duchess’s name so freely? With how popular this new method of suicide is, the entire population of the Empire might go extinct at this rate.”

The little beast dreaming of becoming the next iron-armed mine master was getting bored.

Playing with people might be her thing, but even that depended on the opponent.

‘Like our dear princess, for example.’

While the silver-haired beauty who would one day radiate pure muscle had been sent far off to the West, Leonia had to waste her time dealing with this clingy old leech.

To make matters worse, the carriage the Count arrived in had a pink rabbit painted on it.

‘Swans, rabbits... What did those animals ever do to deserve this?’

Leonia lamented the fact that innocent animals were being dragged into such disgrace.

“...This is utterly ridiculous!”

Gripping the iron gate, Count Erbanu shouted, arms flailing.

‘Should I just summon the Fangs?’

Now genuinely annoyed, Leonia stared at him with dull eyes.

He didn’t make such a fuss when others drove him away. Only when someone young like her appeared did he cause a scene.

“No matter how highborn a ducal house may be, you can’t sever the bond between parent and child so carelessly!”

“...”

“Varia is my daughter! I have the right to—!”

“...Right?”

Disgust surged in Leonia.

She flung off her sunglasses and reached her hand through the iron bars.

In an instant, her hand grabbed the Count by the collar.

He choked and gasped.

“Don’t you dare say crap like that.”

Her voice dropped, and the Count’s eyes trembled weakly.

“Parents have the duty to raise their children with care. They don’t have the right to demand things from them. You still don’t get that?”

She shoved him back by the collar. The Count staggered several steps backward.

“S-She’s my daughter...!”

Still not coming to his senses, the Count insisted on his rights as a parent.

“Varia is my child! Born into this world because of me—!”

“You?!”

Leonia couldn’t hold it in anymore and shouted.

“...Can you really call yourself her father? Her parent?”

Calming her breathing, Leonia asked with a deliberate tone.

She thought she’d gotten better at controlling her emotions, but anything involving her parents was still hard.

Especially when it came to the one responsible for her mother’s near-death.

To her, Count Erbanu was just as vile as Remus.

“If you’re so righteous, then tell me something about your daughter.”

Anything at all, Leonia said, crossing her arms.

“Our Varia—!”

Count Erbanu jumped at the opportunity.

“...”

But nothing came out.

He had been about to proudly recite her birthday. He was ready to talk about how happy he’d been when she was born.

But all he could remember was the voice of the butler announcing the child’s birth.

He couldn’t even recall what the weather was like that day.

“What about your second daughter’s birthday?”

Leonia, dumbfounded, gave him another chance.

Yet the Count couldn’t even remember Lota’s birthday—the daughter he had always favored.

His expression, as he stood there mute with his mouth half open, looked dumber and more pitiful than anyone Leonia had ever seen.

“What colors did they like?”

“...”

“What books did Varia love?”

“...”

“What food did Lota enjoy?”

Not a single answer.

He didn’t know. He truly didn’t know anything.

Of course Leonia’s face contorted with disgust.

“Are you messing with me right now?”

The questions she’d asked weren’t anything difficult. They were things any decent parent should know.

If it had been Ferio, he would’ve answered all of them before the questions were even finished. He would’ve listed even habits and quirks Leonia herself wasn’t aware of.

This man couldn’t answer even one thing about his daughters. It was pathetic.

“M-My wife handled all that...”

The Count dared to pass it off as his wife’s job. He said he was too busy with family duties to raise the children himself.

At that moment, Leonia saw him for exactly what he was.

“Are you seriously calling yourself a father?”

To him, children were nothing.

“I-I clothed and fed them! That’s enough to fulfill my role as a father—!”

“That’s just the bare minimum! Something any parent is supposed to do!”

Leonia snarled. She couldn’t stand how shameless he was.

And then—

“...Dad?”

Leonia turned around.

A golden glint flickered in her black eyes.

Hearing the word “Dad,” Count Erbanu panicked, thinking Ferio was coming, and scrambled into his carriage to flee.

But Leonia didn’t even spare him a glance.

‘Did Dad just release his Fangs?’

And from the room where Mom is?

The words Are you insane?! almost slipped out—but then she noticed something strange.

‘...He did summon them, didn’t he?’

She had clearly felt the Fangs of the Beast. But only for a split second—like a drop of blood falling into a vast lake. Fleeting and indistinct.

“Huh?”

Leonia tilted her head, unsure of what she’d just felt.

It was the first time her father’s Fangs had disappeared so quietly.

***

Empress Tigria had returned to governance.

Her first order of business was improving safety measures in the South—addressing hazardous areas like coastal cliffs and forest paths.

It was a cooperative effort between the Central Imperial Palace, the Southern Marquis Meridio, and Northern House Voreoti.

Editorials in the paper wrote that the South’s true master was finally stepping forward.

With the Voreoti’s support, it was viewed as a step toward easing regional tensions between North and South.

And most notably, the Empress’s courage was praised.

Despite her ongoing grief over her missing daughter, she had prioritized her role as the nation's mother, earning the people’s admiration and respect.

Empress Tigria had reasserted her presence.

At the same time, the presence of Emperor Subiteo was {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} steadily fading.

He hadn’t appeared publicly for some time, and Crown Prince Chrisetos had taken over most state affairs.

There were rumors that the Empress had returned early because of the Emperor’s absence.

But no one criticized the Emperor. Strangely, the silence was absolute.

No one urged him to return to duty, nor asked why he wasn’t working.

It was as if everyone had collectively forgotten his existence.

The only occasional murmurs were mocking remarks—wondering if the Emperor had ever done anything right in the first place.

Thus ignored, the Emperor drowned himself in alcohol every day.

How did it come to this...?

Subiteo pondered.

At what point had everything gone wrong?

It was hard to revisit the past. Everyone struggled with it, but the Emperor found his history especially shameful and humiliating.

So he relied on alcohol. Constantly.

And when the memories came in that drunken haze, they were even darker.

A wife stronger and more capable than himself.

Sycophants only out for their own gain.

Nobles who thought him pitiful.

And a predecessor who never saw him as enough.

But I tried... I did my best.

The Emperor consoled himself with the belief that he had put in effort. He’d come so close to the “Fangs of the Beast” that every emperor had longed for.

If I could just obtain that power...!

He could reduce his wretched past to dust and build a future filled with awe and reverence.

But in the end, he lost everything.

Because of Voreoti.

“Damn it...”

He scowled as he brought a bottle to his lips in frustration.

“Damn it...”

The bottle was empty. Every other bottle nearby was also drained—lying scattered across the floor.

“Damn it...!”

That final annoyance cracked something inside. The Emperor hurled the bottle to the ground.

The shattering glass joined the shards from bottles broken the night before.

“Haa... haa... ugh!”

Clutching his head, the Emperor collapsed to the floor. One of the shards pierced his calf.

Blood spread across his trouser leg—but the searing headache was worse than the sting of the wound.