Chapter 140

Viscount Gagnon was now standing on the verge of completing a great cause that had consumed him for years. It was the decisive moment upon which hung not only his own fate but that of his entire house.

To bring this endeavor to fruition, he had endured countless hardships and had even swallowed no small measure of humiliation. Now, after all those long and weary trials, only a single step remained before him. Once he safely took that one step, the world itself would change.

However, at this most critical juncture, a man with whom he had scarcely exchanged more than formal pleasantries appeared at his door without warning. Moreover, it was not just anyone, but Baron Amieux, a close associate of the Emperor himself. Viscount Gagnon, already suspicious of his intentions from the moment he first attempted contact, was unable to let his guard down after witnessing the manipulative tactics he was employing on his mother.

In a situation where both men were watching each other warily, an honest exchange was out of the question. The conversation drifted in vain, and none of the three seemed interested in the substance of the conversation. Of them all, the one paying the least attention, surprisingly, was Eugène.

The Viscount Gagnon had the distinct impression that his guest’s attention was elsewhere, even as they spoke. And in truth, he was not mistaken. Eugène’s gaze was not fixed upon him, but upon something beyond his shoulder.

At first, it had been no more than an occasional glance. But as time went on, the intervals between those glances grew shorter. Before long, Eugène was staring outright, openly, almost entranced, his eyes fixed on a single point as though bewitched.

What is this about now?Viscount Gagnon, unable to discern the reason behind that gaze, felt a creeping unease. Then suddenly, as if struck by realization, his expression stiffened ever so slightly.

“What could you be looking at so intently?”

Feigning mild curiosity, Viscount Gagnon followed Eugène’s line of sight. He had prayed it would not be what he feared, but as ever, a bad premonition never failed to prove true. Eugène’s eyes were fixed upon the large wooden panel that adorned the front of the salon.

It had stood there unchanged for years, so familiar that neither the household nor the visitors ever spared it a thought. But now, after so many years of neglect, the first person to take notice of it again, of all people, was Eugène.

“That decoration… I am fairly certain I have seen it before, yet even now it looks strangely familiar. It does not seem to match the styles currently in fashion…”

He muttered the words almost to himself, his suspicion plainly evident.

The latest trend in high society these days has been to completely change the interior decoration with each season. This new practice, said to have been started by a renownedprécieuse, had recently become so popular that even the court had begun to follow it.

However, this salon remained mostly unchanged. Only a few minor decorations had been updated; the overall atmosphere and layout were as they had always been. Since such traditional interiors were now increasingly rare, it was natural to draw attention, but Viscount Gagnon knew full well that this was no ordinary matter.

Viscountess Gagnon, realizing a step too late what Eugène was focused on, flinched. She blinked anxiously, and the fingers she had kept neatly together trembled slightly. Although he did not show a naked reaction like her, Viscount Gagnon himself felt a notable tension creeping into his chest. A tension as sharp as a blade hung between the two, though Eugène remained unaware of it.

“It is unusual to see a gentleman, rather than a lady, with an interest in interior decoration, paying attention to such ornaments. Have you always had an interest in furniture or art collections?”

“Not particularly… but may I take a closer look?”

Eugène asked absentmindedly, still keeping his gaze fixed on the panel. It was a perfunctory formality; in truth, he did not require permission, so the Viscount Gagnon could only nod in acquiescence.

“By all means. Is permission truly necessary for something so trivial?”

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“It is certainly quaint, is it not? My mother brought it with her as part of her dowry. It is one of the ancient heirlooms passed down through our family.”

The Viscount Gagnon spoke lightly, as though it were of little importance, standing beside Eugène to explain the origins of the decoration. Eugène listened half-heartedly, tilting his head slightly, his brow faintly furrowing as if struggling to recall a distant memory. He seemed lost in thought.

Watching his unguarded expression, Viscount Gagnon grew deeply pensive.Does he know everything and mean to test me? Or is he probing in ignorance?He could not tell, and that uncertainty kept him from acting rashly.

If it were the former, then the matter would require a decisive resolution. But if it were the latter, he had to defuse the situation quickly before it escalated. Truthfully, he would have preferred to eliminate the source of potential trouble altogether, yet Eugène was not someone who could be dealt with so easily.

The man was one of the Emperor’s closest aides, and, moreover, His Majesty’s beloved favorite. In times as delicate as these, there was no need to provoke the Emperor and draw his attention. Unless there was absolutely no other choice, to lay a hand on him would be the worst possible course of action.

“…I was wondering where I had seen it before. This is the same arrangement as in the Hall of Heraldry, is it not? I am certain, for I recently saw a similar style of decoration.”

However, the impasse Viscount Gagnon had hoped to avoid arrived far sooner than he had braced himself for.

Viscount Gagnon’s heart sank when he caught the faint trace of suspicion forming in Eugène’s eyes. But unless his entire family was prepared to hang in the public square, he could not afford to show even the slightest sign of confirmation. Thinking quickly, the Viscount burst into hearty laughter, as though he had just heard something utterly absurd, and flatly denied Eugène’s remark.

“Surely you jest. What are you saying? This is hardly the era of the Old Kingdom. A mere Viscount’s house would not possess a Hall of Heraldry, of all things.”

“Then you mean it is not?”

Eugène’s tone carried a shade of uncertainty, though not yet conviction.

“They may look similar, but they are entirely different. This one is called a Wall of Lineage. Unlike the Hall of Heraldry, which displays the coat of arms of vassal houses, this wall was used to exhibit the allied families bound by shared blood, a display meant to flaunt a house’s influence. Since alliances between noble houses have long since become nominal, and blood ties no longer hold the power they once did, this form of decoration has nearly disappeared.

Few people recognize it now. In fact, I have never seen another house maintain such a thing outside our own. But you understand as well as I do, Baron, that even this level of kinship has become a desperate necessity for the nobles of the East today. What remains to us now is only the blood in our veins and the traditions we uphold.”

His explanation, which had begun with a deliberately hearty tone, ended on a bitter note. His way with words was so convincing that his lies sounded entirely natural, as if they had not been invented on the spot.

Fortunately, his improvisation seemed to have worked.

“‘To us,’ you say… But if I recall correctly, House Gagnon hails from the Central nobility, does it not? And yet you seem to regard yourself as one of the East.”

“Hahaha. Strange, is it? I grew up surrounded by my cousins and other relatives on my mother’s side from a very young age, so I could not help but think in such a way. In truth, I can hardly imagine a life apart from them.”

“Well, birth hardly matters, does it? A man’s identity lies in how he perceives and conducts himself. Now that I look closer, I see House Gagnon’s coat of arms here as well.”

“It includes not only our main and collateral branches, but also those related to us by marriage.”

For centuries, House d’Estuaire had stood as the Prince-Electors of the East. They were tied by marriage to nearly every prominent house in the region, so such an excuse held plausibility. But Eugène, perceptive as ever, struck at a flaw even the shrewd Viscount Gagnon had failed to anticipate.

“Then where is my family’s coat of arms?”

“…Pardon?”

“Why the hesitation? Even if the relationship has grown distant, by blood we are still part of the same extended kin, are we not? I ask because, for all my searching, I cannot seem to find our coat of arms anywhere.”

“……”

Viscount Gagnon was visibly taken aback by the question, but he forced a calm expression. Eugène scanned the wall with a suspicious gaze and pressed further.

“Now that I think of it, I cannot see the coat of arms of my mother’s family, the House of Count Croix, either. They are not merely extended kin but a proper collateral branch, so there seems to be no reason for them to be omitted.”

It was not only them who were missing. The coat of arms of House Gromanic, politically in clear opposition yet still intermarried, was absent, as were those of other collateral branches that, in the early days of the defeat, had associated with Eugène’s late father and hastily pushed for the Responsibility Doctrine.

It was, if anything, only to be expected. The wall was not, as the Viscount had claimed, some lofty Wall of Lineage; it was, in fact, a kind of public register gathering those who shared the same views.

Eugène, who had nearly been swayed by the Viscount’s smooth words, finally caught the telltale signs of deceit and stiffened his expression. What had once been mere suspicion hardened into certainty the moment he realized Viscount Gagnon’s claims were lies.

He turned to the Viscount Gagnon with a stern glare and demanded, his voice low and fierce like a predator’s growl. The room seemed to shrink under his imposing height and substantial build, and the air grew instantly tense.

“Explain yourself, Viscount Gagnon. How is this to be explained? Are the words I just heard truly the truth?”

Even a man as silver-tongued as Viscount Gagnon would struggle to fabricate an excuse suitable for a situation twisted this far.

“W-well, you see, this only displays relatives who are still in active contact with one another…”

Eugène was no longer deceived by such a feeble excuse. He furrowed his brows sharply and sneered with a chilling sarcasm.

“You are expected to provide an answer I can accept, not a jumble of convenient falsehoods thrown together at random. Speak plainly. Are you truly unable to give a proper explanation? Must I go to His Grace, the Duke of La Mer, myself to hear one?”

For a brief moment, Viscount Gagnon wrestled with intense inner conflict. Despite his anxious efforts to prevent it, things had gone awry. Completely and irreversibly awry. The worst-case scenario he had desperately tried to avoid was now unfolding right before his eyes.

What should I do?Viscount Gagnon anxiously bit his lip, racking his brain. He could not let Baron Amieux return to the Emperor with this information. By any means necessary, he had to stop it.

The problem was Eugène’s strength. He, too, had ears; he had long heard of Eugène’s monstrous abilities. Even believing only half of the rumors, it would take a considerable number of men to subdue him, and currently, there was no such force within the Viscount Gagnon’s mansion.

In a fleeting instant, a thousand thoughts raced through his mind. Despite his rugged appearance, Viscount Gagnon was clever, which meant his mind churned endlessly. But before he could reach a decision, someone else acted first. While the two men raised their voices, squabbling with one another, Viscountess Gagnon silently approached Eugène from behind.

Thwack!!

Viscountess Gagon lifted a heavy painted vase, one she normally could not have lifted, and struck Eugène squarely on the back of the head. She was considerably shorter than him, which meant she could not aim as precisely as she wanted.

Paradoxically, however, that very imperfection worked in her favor. The vase missed the intended spot on the back of his head and instead struck the nape, a spot unprotected by the skull.

Crash!

Eugène, unexpectedly struck from behind, collapsed without even a chance to resist. Seeing the towering man fall before her, the Viscountess, drained of energy, dropped the vase, which had served its purpose.

The expensive vase shattered into pieces at her feet. Viscount Gagnon stared down at the man sprawled on the floor in stunned disbelief, then back at his mother. He could scarcely believe that his mother, who had always seemed so refined and graceful, had just committed such an audacious act before his very eyes.

“…Mother, what have you done?”

He could not hide his shock as he asked his mother.

“I misjudged.”

But the Viscountess, still dazed, seemed not to hear her son’s question. Muttering to herself as if no one were listening, she clenched both fists tightly to her chest.

“It is bloodline that ultimately defines a person’s true nature. The lineage of a traitor, no matter how much one tries, can never overcome nature. I failed to consider that and almost made a grave mistake.”

Still muttering as though lost in her own thoughts, she opened one of her clenched fists. The pain she had been unaware of in her extreme emotional state hit her belatedly. Red stains blossomed on her beautifully cared-for, uncalloused white palm. Tiny shards from the shattered vase had embedded themselves in her hand.

The Viscountess Gagnon, who had never seen blood on her own body except once a month onthatday, stared down at her hand in bewilderment, pressing on the wound with her bare fingers as if confronted by a situation she could hardly comprehend.

The situation unfolded so quickly that Viscount Gagnon was at a loss. While it was his mother who had acted rashly, responsibility for handling the aftermath fell entirely on him. With a face hardened by tension, he stared at the back of the man collapsed on the floor, lost in deep thought.

A streak of blood ran down the man’s bronzed nape.