“There’s no use denying it,” Marquess Diascia continued. “As proof, your revolting father never returned, did he? He abandoned you and your mother. That’s his answer. Surely, you understand that your life will bring misfortune to many more.”
The man with canary-yellow hair, reflected in the marquess’s eyes, was silently receiving the rage thrown against him. Lucas had lost his cool for a split moment before, but gradually regained his composure. Why does this man seem to detest me to such an absurd degree? Is it simply because I sullied the noble blood of the Traditional Twelve? Or is it because a former commoner with the blood of a disgusting foreigner is causing his beliefs and political position to collapse? Screw that. You’re just acting for your own sake.
This marquess was simply cursing the way of life of his aunt, who fled their suffocating family. He one-sidedly claimed her happiness as misfortune, insulted her child, and accepted the half-disgraced house she’d cast aside. He was only acting with himself in mind.
Lucas took a deep breath. He wasn’t about to be swayed by the petty words of this small man. He had seen his mother’s diary and the words she’d jotted down. He trusted the love he’d been showered with and the path he’d paved until now. Above all, even if everything I believed in is a lie, I’ve got Iris by my side.
He felt the air shift for a split second. A familiar scent reached his nose, but as he glanced around the room, no one else seemed to notice. Was it because they were enveloped in the scent of cologne and tobacco? Or was Lucas’s nose more sensitive than the rest?
“What’s wrong?” the marquess sneered.
He mistook Lucas’s curious eyes darting around the room for fear. The baron could only try to gauge his situation and buy some time; he acted hurt by the words hurled at him.
“What are you planning on doing with me?” Lucas asked glumly. “If you find my foreign blood to be unpleasant, surely you’re against welcoming me into the family, even if we’re biologically related?”
“Ah, your unlucky hair color, the hue of a canary sent to the mines to perish, can be dyed,” the marquess replied. “Worst case, we can just shave all your hair off. Your eyes can be masked behind spectacles. You simply need to quietly enter the Bearbrooks Trading Company and live your life in the shade. If you remain silent and obedient, I reckon I could even have a seat within the first prince’s faction prepared for you.”
Lucas was disappointed by those words. How arrogant. Just how powerful does he think he is? He’s totally misunderstanding his position. The railroad was built under the order of the third prince’s faction. The first prince and his allies were being cornered even further; the marquess knew of his disadvantageous position. Hence, he was trying to welcome Lucas into his family. How could he still act so high and mighty?
Lucas’s instincts, which had dulled since he’d gotten rich, started to awaken once more. He saw smoke waft from the corner of the ceiling and descend upon the room; he instinctively gauged his surroundings. There was one thing he was desperate to protect.
“Marquess Diascia,” Lucas mustered in a teary voice, his pathetic tone matching his expression of despair. “Could I make one last request? At the very least, I’d like to take a good look at my mother’s face. My memory of her is fuzzy, and I don’t have a single picture of her.”
“Very well,” the marquess obliged.
He was delighted to see Lucas so distraught. He motioned with his chin toward the servants, signaling them to back away. A gun still pressed upon Lucas, he approached the painting, noticing the slight breeze from the ceiling. He took off his jacket and placed it over his smiling mother’s painting, covering her up. The marquess raised a bemused eyebrow.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
A hole suddenly smashed through a corner of the ceiling, and white smoke burst into the room, filling the entire space. The teary voice of a young lady echoed throughout the area.
“Lord Lucas! Please cover your face!”
They’re here! Lucas immediately covered his face as he grabbed a nearby candlestand and threw it against a window. The glass shattered as the white smoke enveloped Marquess Diascia and his servants. In a flash, they were crying with agony while a rope ladder was tossed down from the hole in the ceiling. Lucas rushed up and spotted Iris, outstretching her hand, her face covered with a mask. He grabbed her hand and climbed up.
“Lucas, are you all right?” Iris asked.
“Yep. The scent gave it away, so I was bracing myself,” Lucas said.
After tightly embracing his wife for a few moments, a mask was placed over the baron’s head.
“Take that! And that!” Kiki’s teary voice reverberated throughout the area. “How dare you do something so awful to Lord Lucas! I’ll never forgive you guys!”
A mask covering her face, the maid took out a few spheres from underneath her skirt and hurled them at the room below.
“Kiki!” Cano’s muffled voice echoed. “You’re throwing way too many! Calm down!” He turned to his master. “Sir Leik has created an escape route for us. Let’s go!”
With Cano leading the way, the four fled through the ceiling. Outside, the garden and trees were ablaze, the flames eager to burn the manor down. That made it easy for the four to escape while preventing anyone from giving chase.
“Leik’s really something,” Lucas whistled.
Carrying his wife, who had been stumbling, he ran through the garden. A carriage pulled up in front of them. Leik winked, dressed like a coachman.
“I tamed these horses,” the butler said.
“You’re amazing,” Lucas muttered.
“Not a moment to lose! Let’s go!”
The four climbed into the carriage. Leik spurred the horses on and the vehicle rushed ahead. Marquess Diascia’s manor was slowly growing smaller and smaller.
“I’ve been living as Lucas Stock with these eyes and hair,” the baron murmured as he gazed at the manor. “Like hell I’m throwing it all away.”
In a flash, the rowdy ordeal was far away. Once they had gone a good distance, everyone removed their masks. The nighttime breeze felt nice against their sweaty skin. As the moonlight gently illuminated the hills, the fact that everyone had survived finally started to sink in. Lucas was still in a daze as Iris, who sat beside him, gently dabbed his cheek with a handkerchief.
“You’re bleeding,” she said.
“Hmm? Yeah, but the wound’s not deep,” Lucas replied. “How about you? You okay?”
Iris was in tatters. The hems of her dress were torn, but even so, she smiled brightly. “My heart’s still pounding,” she confessed. “I’ve never experienced anything like this before.”
“You’re a strong woman,” Lucas replied.
As he petted her head, he noticed Kiki was fast asleep from exhaustion. Beside her sat Cano, his eyes closed and quiet. Lucas had given Kiki a few tear gas balls before they entered the manor, telling her to use them when needed. She must’ve been crying because she accidentally got some in her eyes.
“You did well, Iris,” Lucas murmured.
“Lucas…” she replied.
“Why don’t you sleep for a little while?”
“All right.”
He hugged his wife’s shoulders and drew her closer, stroking her back. Her excited heartbeat started to calm down. When Iris had fallen asleep, Cano gazed at his master with his piercing gold eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Lucas whispered.
“Are you sure about this?” Cano inquired. “This was your chance to join your mother’s household.”
“Do you think that I’d like that?”
Cano was silent. He likely knew the answer.
“Thanks for protecting Iris,” Lucas added with a grin. “Things went far better than I’d anticipated.”
“Not quite…” Cano muttered. “She got hurt.”
“But you can learn for next time, can’t you? The fact that we can think about a ‘next time’ proves that you protected her safely. You should at least obediently accept the compliment tonight.”
Cano said not a word, but his expression implied that he had something to say.
“I trust relationships that I’ve built more than blood ties,” Lucas said. “I believe that I can trust you.”
“Thank you,” the young boy said. He gazed at the outside scenery pensively.