Chapter 173 - My Dear Jubell

 

After Jubelian left, Mikhail had drunk to intoxication again, cursing the lady until falling asleep. Nevertheless, he had no choice but to open his eyes at the noise that came from downstairs—it was shaking his fatigued body awake.

Bang!

‘What’s all the fuss about?’ His head throbbed from the hangover, but Mikhail violently shook away the pain and got up to locate the source of the commotion. He staggered through his bedroom door and headed for the staircase where the noises were coming from. The lingering tipsiness disappeared in an instant when he saw that the marble staircase he had used just yesterday was nearly broken in half.

‘What in the…’ Mikhail wondered if this was real or if he was just seeing things. Then, another roar resounded.

Bang!

Are Mother and Father okay?’ Mikhail hurried to the noise. Concern for his parents grew as he saw the signs of destruction on the broken front door and the exterior walls of the building.

‘Just where are they…?!’

That was when he heard a pleading voice coming from the direction of the dining room.

“Please! I beg you to stop!”

It was his mother’s voice.

‘Who dares to intimidate my mother… I won’t let you go!’

Indignant, Mikhail opened the door to the dining room. His eyes soon widened. The man Mikhail saw was standing in an elegant stance—unlike his frightened parents, sister, and servants who were kneeling before the man, begging for their lives.

“Y-your Grace. Please do not be angry at us,” the people of the estate beseeched.

“Y-you are…”

Hearing Mikhail’s voice, the man slowly turned his head. Deep inside his calm blue eyes, anger was raging. “Mikhail Albert Hessen.”

When his name was called, Mikhail flinched and then bowed. “Your Grace, long time no see.”

Normally, permission would have been granted to raise his head, but Duke Floyen remained silent.

‘Did Jubelian tattle on what happened today?’ Cold sweat ran down his back, but Mikhail thought there was nothing to feel guilty about as he had not done anything to her.

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At that moment, the duke spoke coldly, “Your parents are praying on their knees, but I see that you are still being proud.” Mikhail swallowed dryly at the frigid voice that made his blood curdle. He could tell without raising his head that Duke Floyen was looking at him with menacing eyes. Soon, the duke spoke again, “Marquis Hessen, I hear that you have once mocked me, saying that I was merely a lucky murderer appropriate for these times.”

The marquis had jabbered such a thing at a private party while drunk. The fact that the duke was aware of it gave the nobleman goosebumps. “T-that is…! I don’t know where you heard it, but whoever said it must be setting up a scheme!” the marquis denied urgently.

However, the duke shook his head cynically. “No, you are right. In fact, I am suppressing the urge to kill at this moment.”

At the affirmation, everyone kneeling before the duke froze in place. It was probably because they had all just witnessed his power—that which enabled him to destroy the mansion with his bare hands.

‘If such a monster is determined to kill us… We will be annihilated!’ they realized.

The members of the estate were terrified, but the duke continued without heeding them. “I know how you all have been treating my daughter. The only reason I tolerated it was because it was what Jubelian wished.” Clenching one fist, the duke struck the long table. The table split into two with a loud thud, prompting the marquis’ family as well as the servants and maids to quiver in fear. “But I can’t be patient anymore knowing a conceited bunch like you all are trying to manipulate her.”

Everyone prostrated themselves in response to the frightening atmosphere. They were afraid that they would be harmed if they even made eye contact.

“This is your final warning. Do not contact my daughter anymore. If you do, it will cost you more than your home,” the duke concluded before leisurely walking out of the estate.

Even after he left, the marquis’ family could not raise their heads—except for one person.

‘Is he telling me to give up on her so easily?’

Memories spent with Jubelian flashed through Mikhail’s mind. She was a woman who had always yearned for him.

“I love you, Mikhail,” she would always say out of the blue. Her snow-white skin, shimmering silver hair, cherry lips, and sweet smile could all belong to him—but the duke was telling Mikhail to give up now. The knight’s anger spiraled out of control.

‘Hilarious! By what right does he think he can order me around?’ His eyes bloodshot, Mikhail stared hard at the floor before slamming his fist on the marble floor.

“Mikhail! What in the world is wrong with you?” his mother wept, but Mikhail paid no heed and continued destroying the floor.

“Dear brother! Please stop!” Giselle cried as well, but Mikhail ignored her. The marquis decided to step up in the end.

“I understand that you’re angry, but didn’t you just see what happened? He is a monster—he is even aware of what I said while drunk. There is no choice but to be patient for now!”

As the pain in his knuckles grew dull, Mikhail burst into laughter like a madman. Everything was pathetic—his father, who was only the second-in-command and a marquis, as well as his mother and sister, who secretly looked down on and harassed Jubelian.

…And Mikhail himself, who had had no choice but to bow to the duke in helplessness. Mikhail once again punched the floor. Despite his bloodstained knuckles, he couldn’t feel any pain.

“I will bring ruin upon the duke,” Mikhail pledged, glaring at his astonished father, “and retrieve what was mine.”

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