Chapter 8

I became a face genius dad in the game - Chapter 8 (8/109)

Funeral (3)

Irina Ishtar sent them back with a sincere apology.

Since Irina was not the type to get angry at a child's mistake, she said it was fine and got into the carriage returning to the capital.

Lucius followed her with his eyes until she left, but he did not call out "Mom" again.

"Lucius, do you remember anything about your mom?"

Thinking there might be a chance, I asked, and Lucius tilted his head a few times before answering.

"......Shiny?"

Well, it must have been shiny.

They say a dragon's lair is piled with all sorts of treasures.

It seemed that Lucius had almost no memories of his mother.

"Hmm."

Lucius, who had to wake up a bit earlier to get dressed for the funeral, yawned repeatedly.

In the end, I handed Lucius over to Sia to take him in first.

Thanks to Sia's role as Lucius's wet nurse over the past few days, the two had become quite close.

"Well, then I'll... go now."

As Simon tried to slip away quietly following his sister, I stopped him.

"Where are you going? You need to stay until the end."

While Sia, being the third, could be excused because of Lucius, Simon, as the second, had to stay with me until the funeral was over.

With no mistress, at least two direct family members needed to be present to greet the guests.

"Ah!"

Simon, whose collar I grabbed, made a strange sound and shrank back.

It was as if the mere touch of my hand was terrifying to him.

His exaggerated reaction made me chuckle involuntarily as I asked,

"Why are you so scared? Am I going to kill you?"

"Ah!"

"......"

While I was taken aback, Sia hesitantly spoke up.

"Um, Seymour, today one funeral is enough, right? ...You know, for Lucius's sake?"

"......"

What the hell did this Seymour do to his siblings?

* * *

All the funeral procedures were over.

The coffin of the late Earl was laid to rest in the family crypt, and all the guests had left.

Now only the final informal family dinner of the funeral remained.

"......"

"......"

"......"

This was supposed to be a time to pay our last respects to the deceased and move on to normal life.

But everyone was just exchanging glances in silence.

Specifically, they were watching me and my uncle.

'Today, huh.'

I instinctively knew.

These people were going to bring up the topic of the earldom.

'With the funeral over and Lucius not here, it's the perfect time for them.'

Anticipating the attack, I focused even more on my meal. You need to eat well to fight.

Or in this case, you need to eat meat.

'Sure is delicious today, as always.'

The head chef of this household really knows how to cook a steak.

"......"

"......"

"......"

At the long dinner table where nearly twenty people were seated, only I was moving my fork and knife.

"Ha ha ha..."

From beside Simon, a laugh of disbelief burst out.

The overly formal attire, the intense perfume that wafted with every movement.

It was my uncle, Richard Mausoleum.

'He's the one who keeps blowing hot air into Simon and Sia.'

Richard drew out his laughter, drawing everyone's attention to him, and said with a sneer,

"Seems like you have a good appetite, Seymour."

With the coffin of his father in the crypt for less than two hours, how could he eat meat? How could we entrust our earldom to such a person?

I shrugged and countered,

"Uncle, you don't seem to have much of an appetite. Oh, is it because you're old and your digestion is poor? So, can you handle the business from tomorrow?"

It was a way of saying, "Mind your own business and do your job."

Richard narrowed his eyes but let out a relaxed laugh.

"You're worrying about this old uncle now. Don't worry. A few missed meals won't dull my senses."

"I know your senses well. You've got a firm grip on fashion and perfumes. Your senses will remain sharp even after decades."

I put down my knife and added,

"Your position, too."

"......"

Don't be greedy for more. Be content with what you have. My warning made my uncle's eyes narrow even more.

By now, no one at the dinner table was holding their utensils.

* * *

The clinking of cutlery and plates had stopped.

Everyone in the hall was watching the confrontation between me and my uncle with tense and curious eyes.

"......Since the topic came up."

Realizing everyone's attention was on him, Richard cleared his throat and dove straight into the main issue.

"What do you plan to do with the businesses your father held?"

Businesses. I raised an eyebrow at the mention.

In a world where nobles run businesses, a great noble house like the Mausoleums is no different from a sprawling conglomerate.

From core industries like military supplies, magic, and construction to additional ventures like fashion, perfumes, restaurants, and mercenary services, they had their hands in everything.

While the direct and collateral lines manage these businesses, the core ones are all held by the direct line, specifically the head of the house.

So, it wasn't strange for the topic of business distribution to come up, but I was a bit puzzled.

'Is he giving up on the earldom?'

Originally, the ideal plan for the collateral lines, including my uncle, would have been for one of them to become the earl or to make my brother the earl and rule as regent.

'With Seymour unsealing Lucius, they must have concluded that the latter is no longer possible.'

It was a wise decision.

If you can't swallow the whole cake, you should at least take a slice.

Of course, I had no intention of giving even a single slice of this cake to anyone.

It's all mine.

After I retire, it should go to my siblings. For the sake of a peaceful retirement for me and Lucius.

"Father's businesses? That's a given. I'll take them all."

"Are you being greedy?"

"If following in my father's footsteps is being greedy, then yes, I am being greedy."

"Overambition. Your father might have managed, but you, still young, handling so many businesses is premature."

A few heads among the collateral lines nodded.

This must have been the result of countless discussions and conspiracies.

Their words were not wrong. For the good of the entire family, the help of so-called experts would be necessary.

Of course, I had no intention of benefiting the entire family, but bringing it up here would be risky.

"No, quite the opposite."

So, I decided to focus on defense.

And the best defense is always a good offense.

"Wasn't it my father who was overambitious?"

"......What?"

"Otherwise, he wouldn't have passed away."

My uncle, frowning as if he didn't understand the meaning of my words, asked,

"Did you say the same thing back then?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did you tell my father the same thing before he passed away? To share the businesses?"

"......"

After a moment of staring at me, my uncle's face suddenly contorted as if he had realized something, and he abruptly stood up.

Clunk, bang!

My uncle, not even noticing the chair falling behind him, turned red and pointed at me, shouting,

"Are you accusing me! Are you saying I coveted my brother's businesses and killed him?!"

The atmosphere at the dinner table turned icy. Everyone's eyes widened as they alternated their gaze between me and my uncle.

I shrugged.

"If not, isn't it a bit strange to bring up business matters right after the funeral procedures are over?"

"......What?"

"Isn't this a good opportunity? Or did you create this opportunity yourself?"

"You, you! You can say anything! But in this family, the one with the most reason to kill your father is you!"

Why is that?

Seeing my uncle shouting in front of me, I was reminded of Sia's face from a few days ago.

– Are you going to kill Uncle too?

Why do people keep saying such things to me?

Killing, or planning to kill.

To someone who can't even catch a bug.

Deciding to continue the argument with my uncle, I closed my mouth.

"Hmm..."

Out of frustration.

"An earldom doesn't suit you! If you hadn't awakened the dragon, you would have...! Entering the crypt without permission...!"

My uncle was still shouting and pointing at me.

It was a bit annoying.

No, a lot.

"Enough."

I raised my hand to cut him off.

Suddenly, I felt it was all too much.

The verbal sparring with my uncle. The shouting.

No.

It's mine to begin with.

Why do I have to work so hard for it?

I discarded all the prepared arguments in my head.

And I asked straightforwardly.

"Uncle, I really don't understand."

Suppressing the rising frustration, I spoke word by word.

"Why did you follow the late earl without a word?"

Everyone was silent, but I knew the reason.

The Mausoleum family has always been ruled by fear.

'The late earl was no different.'

The family chronicles I read in the study over the past few days were filled with details.

How much the members feared the late earl, and what he did to intentionally instill that fear.

"So, Uncle, if I really did kill my father, shouldn't you be even more afraid of me?"

"......"

"Besides, I have a dragon by my side. Yet, instead of flattering me, you're trying to take something from me?"

I couldn't help but laugh.

"Did you suddenly become brave in your old age, or has senility made you short-sighted?"

"......"

"You've been so stupid and narrow-minded that you've been manipulated by someone as incompetent and violent as Father."

"......More."

"You're all delusional. Do you think I'm different? Just because a young man became the head of the family, do you think I can do something different? Do you think we've finally escaped the shadow of a tyrant?"

"......Seymour."

"You're wrong. Once a dog is broken, it can never be anything but a guard dog."

"......Seymour, your magic...!"

"So, choose. Will you live as a dog I raise, or will you all...!"

"Seymour Mausoleum! Control your magic!"

Someone's shout snapped me back to reality.

"......Huh?"

The floor of the dining hall was covered in thick black mist.

It was my magic, Seymour's magic.

'When did I...?'

The black mist was even creeping up the bodies of my uncle and a few others, gripping their hearts.

My uncle, Richard, was pale and sweating, as if his heart was about to stop.

'Crazy...!'

I hurriedly tried to retract my magic, but...

I stopped.

'Should I just kill them all?'

It was as if someone was whispering to me.

'It's annoying. Distinguishing allies from enemies, deciding whether to persuade or discard them, and then judging if they're useful or not.'

A voice that scratched my itch.

'You have plenty of people to replace them. You already have a list of capable and easy-to-manipulate people in your head, from across the empire.'

A very sweet and pleasant voice.

'So, just explode. Pop, like popcorn.'

It was my own voice.