I Have A Damn Family Again - Chapter 87

Chapter 87: The Disgrace of Shatrain (1)

“Sob… sob…”

Flora, escorted back to the ducal manor by Camilla, had shed countless tears during her journey.

But even now, her blue eyes remained filled with unshed tears, shimmering like fragile glass beads.

Once again, she had failed.

She’d been dismissed before she could even speak, her efforts met with indifference.

The weight of her failure crushed her, leaving her heart aching.

“Flora? Where have you been?”
“Sister…”
“Have you been crying? Why are your eyes so…”

The moment Claire mentioned her tears, Flora instinctively flinched.

‘I-I can’t cry. If I cry, then…! ’

Carsein might be misunderstood.

That thought spurred her into action, her sleeve wiping hastily at her tears.

“What happened? Tell me.”
“Hmm? N-Nothing! It’s nothing—“

A sudden wave of guilt washed over her, silencing her denial.

If she pretended nothing had happened, wouldn’t she be repeating her past mistakes?

“Flora? Flora!”
“…”

What was the difference between lying to Carsein and deceiving herself?

It was the same, wasn’t it? Pretending everything was fine wouldn't erase the truth.

She'd spent her life hiding, concealing, and lying.

She couldn't keep running away.

Yes, she had to speak up.

She had to confess, even if it meant facing punishment.

“Flora? What’s wrong?!”

Fortunately, it wasn't Arina standing before her.

‘Big Sister would have scolded me, blamed Carsein for everything… but…’

Would Claire be different?

Flora gulped, her heart pounding.

She hated being scolded, but she deserved it.

She’d done wrong. She’d been cruel. She’d lied.

She couldn't keep hiding.

“…Sister Claire, I have something to tell you.”
“Go ahead. Tell me everything. I’m listening.”

“Sniff… I… I’ve been mean to Carsein.”
“What?”
“I… I put salt in his food. I stuck needles in his clothes and put sand in his water jug.”
“…!”
“I even asked Emma to make the maids do it… And I lied about it, blamed everything on Carsein…”

Tears streamed down her face as she confessed, her voice thick with guilt.

She held nothing back, revealing every single act of cruelty she’d inflicted upon Carsein.

Silence descended upon the room, broken only by the sound of her sniffles. Claire, her mouth slightly agape, stared at her younger sister in disbelief.

She knew Carsein had been subjected to unfair treatment within the household, but they’d never been able to uncover the culprit.

She’d assumed it was a joint effort orchestrated by Theo Ramstear and Emma Urnen, seeking solace in their punishment, the severity of their sentences a meager attempt to quell her own guilt.

But as the saying goes, the greatest truths often lay hidden in plain sight. These seemingly unrelated incidents, connected by an invisible thread, all led back to Flora, the missing piece of the puzzle.

The realization that the culprit was her own sister, her beloved youngest sister, filled Claire with a heavy sense of dread.

“Sniff… Sister, I was wrong. It was all my fault.”

There was no need to question her confession. Not when her sweet, innocent sister was admitting her own wrongdoings.

“Come with me, Flora.”

This was a moment for discipline, a time for harsh truths spoken in hushed tones.

Claire, her heart heavy, led Flora to her room, summoning Heron with a discreet gesture.

The elderly butler, his face etched with concern, arrived shortly, carrying a thin, flexible cane.

“Hold out your hand, Flora.”
“Sniff… sniff…”

Flora, knowing what awaited her, obediently extended her hand.

-Swish! Thwack!

The sound of the cane, whistling through the air before connecting with flesh, echoed through the room. There was no hesitation in Claire’s movements, no mercy in her strike. Flora’s palm, once pale, turned a bright shade of red.

A cry, muffled and choked with tears, escaped her lips.

“…Sniff… Sob…”

But she didn't flinch, didn't retract her hand. Even as the cane landed repeatedly, leaving crimson marks on her delicate skin, she remained silent, never once complaining of pain.

Because she knew the true pain, the unbearable weight of guilt, lay elsewhere.

The cane fell again and again, the sound a rhythmic counterpoint to the silence that stretched between the sisters.

Finally, when the marks on Flora’s hand threatened to turn into bruises, Heron intervened, his voice a gentle plea.

“Lady Claire, I believe it’s time to stop.”

The cane, poised mid-air, froze.

Claire, her gaze finally breaking away from her task, noticed the extent of her sister’s punishment.

“Sister…”
“…Speak.”
“What should I do…? He keeps pushing me away… Sob…! What should I say…?”

Claire, her own heart burdened by guilt, had no answers. She, too, had inflicted pain upon Carsein.

***

The first main episode of Chapter 2 branched off from a seemingly insignificant sub-episode.

Carsein's participation in the Eastern Nobles’ Conference was conditional, hinging on the successful completion of this sub-episode.

I'd chosen to focus on the Lusmire territory, a decision based on a complex web of strategic considerations. And now, I needed to find a way to revitalize it, drawing upon every ounce of knowledge and cunning at my disposal.

But…

Camilla’s report, a treasure trove of information, exceeded all expectations.

It contained the answers to every choice I'd encountered while playing the game, revealing the hidden death flags, illuminating the optimal paths I'd so often missed.

“…Which leaves me with one final task.”

I glanced at my status window, my gaze drawn to the stats I hadn’t had time to improve.

“It seems I’ll be spending my days in rigorous training.”

Yes, to clear the Lusmire episode, to regain my participation rights, I needed to focus on my physical abilities.

I was about to retire for the night, my body yearning for rest, when a sudden realization struck me.

“…I haven’t even bathed yet.”

The night was far more advanced than I’d realized. It was well past my usual bedtime.

Lost in the endless cycle of studying and strategizing, I’d lost track of time.

▶ Status Ailment: Fatigue, Sleep Deprivation ◀

Even my status window was urging me to rest.

“I never cared about sleep deprivation in reality… but it seems I’ll need to be more careful here.”

If I collapsed at a crucial moment, due to some unforeseen penalty, the consequences would be disastrous.

***

“Her Imperial Highness, Princess Arsienne, has arrived!”

The nobles, seated in a grand hall, rose in unison, bowing their heads in deference.

The princess, her silver hair cascading down her back, her demeanor regal and composed, moved gracefully towards her seat, a hint of weariness etched upon her features.

“You seem unwell today, Your Highness.”
“If you require a restorative elixir, our family would be honored to—“
“The medicinal herbs harvested from our territory this season are of exceptional quality. A decoction would surely—“

Their voices, a chorus of flattery and veiled self-promotion, grated on her ears.

Arsienne, silencing them with a sharp rap of her gavel, addressed the gathered nobles.

“Is everyone present?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”

A council member, his gaze sweeping across the room, confirmed the attendance.

There were no empty seats. A fact that only intensified the princess’s fatigue.

“Then we shall begin with a discussion of the amendments to the Eastern Nobles’ Conference.”

This was a preliminary meeting, a gathering to finalize the regulations for the upcoming conference.

The Eastern Nobles’ Conference. It was a test of their abilities, a challenge issued by the Imperial family. But it was also an opportunity, a chance to prove their worth, to earn a seal of approval from the very heart of the Empire.

“Your Highness, if I may inquire, why have you barred the heads of families from participating?”
“Hmm. I believe their presence undermines the very purpose of this conference.”
“And what would that purpose be?”
“Think carefully. Every year, at the Eastern Nobles’ Conference, certain families achieve remarkable results. However, the majority of those achievements are attributed to the heads of families, wouldn't you agree?”
“Hmm…”
“Now that you mention it…”
“Of course, there have been exceptions, like the two daughters of House Bagrand, who participated directly. But if this trend continues, we will only ever witness the capabilities of the older generation. Do you believe this will change over time?”

Arsienne believed it wouldn’t. There would be no progress, no evolution, if they continued down this path.

“Therefore, I am challenging the younger generation to prove their worth. To weed out those who are content to remain in the shadow of their parents.”
“But Your Highness, to burden young lords and ladies with such a responsibility—“
“I apologize, but this decision is final. They are the future leaders of their families, the future pillars of our Empire. They must be tested.”

Her voice, firm and unwavering, silenced the nobles’ protests.

“Rest assured, the evaluation process will remain the same. It will be fair, equitable, and stringent.”

Arsienne, aware of the importance of this conference, the critical role it played in shaping the future of the Empire, emphasized the need for discretion. The details of the conference were to remain confidential.

The usual power struggles, the petty squabbles for social standing, were meaningless.

A brief discussion ensued, addressing minor adjustments to the proposed regulations. The framework for the conference had been established.

And then, a nobleman raised his hand.

“Your Highness, there seems to be one… oversight.”
“Speak freely, Count Retelvik.”
“I believe those deemed unqualified should be barred from participation.”

Arsienne’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of annoyance crossing her features. She knew exactly who he was referring to.

“Is it truly necessary to grant participation rights to someone who has caused such a major incident?”
“Count, choose your words carefully.”
“Are you concerned about the Duchess’s presence? Then it’s even more crucial to address this issue. How can we be certain that history won't repeat itself?”

Count Retelvik’s words resonated with several other nobles, their heads nodding in agreement.

It wasn't just those opposed to House Bagrand’s dominance who shared his concerns. Even the neutral factions, along with the Imperial council members, agreed with his assessment. Even House Bagrand’s own vassals couldn’t refute his argument.

The incident involving the Shatrain territory, the sharp decline in the production of its key crops, the eruption of public outrage, remained a stain on the reputation of House Bagrand, a blemish on the entire aristocracy.

“Despite the efforts of Lady Arina and Lady Claire, the downfall of Shatrain remains a source of shame for all nobles. Such an incident must never be repeated.”

Isabella, unable to contain her anger any longer, interjected, her voice laced with icy fury.

“Are you suggesting that my son, Carsein Bagrand, should be stripped of his participation rights?”
“Of course, Duchess.”
“Count!”

Isabella, her brow furrowed with displeasure, snapped, her voice echoing through the hall.

Count Retelvik, unfazed by her outburst, simply chuckled.

“My, my. Duchess Isabella, you seem to have lost your composure. This is a matter of national importance, is it not? Your maternal instincts seem to have clouded your judgment.”
“He’s right.”
“It’s a reasonable request.”
“Carsein Bagrand is not fit to participate in this conference.”

Other nobles, emboldened by the count’s words, voiced their agreement.

Carsein’s participation rights hung precariously in the balance.

And then, a voice, calm and authoritative, cut through the escalating tension.

“I, however, believe Carsein Bagrand should be allowed to participate.”

It was Arsienne, the princess herself, coming to Carsein's defense.

“Your Highness?”
“What do you mean?”
“Carsein Bagrand is simply impulsive and lacking in knowledge.”
“How can someone who hasn’t received a proper noble education be expected to excel in this conference?”
“Honestly, he hasn’t displayed any potential whatsoever. We can all agree on that, can’t we?”

Despite the nobles’ protests, their arguments bordering on insubordination, Arsienne stood her ground.

“Impulsive, lacking in knowledge, uneducated. These are mere assumptions. But let’s not forget, it was Carsein Bagrand who had shown the most significant growth.”
“The most significant growth?”
“Have you forgotten the trial held at the Ducal Manor?”

The image of Carsein, the reckless troublemaker, faded from their minds, replaced by the memory of the young man who’d commanded the courtroom with his sharp wit and unwavering determination.

“Carsein Bagrand’s chances of winning that trial were practically nonexistent. His past actions, along with the previous incident, painted a bleak picture, a guaranteed defeat. But what was the outcome?”
“…”

Silence fell upon the council members.

The trial, a decisive victory for Carsein, had been a masterclass in strategy and logic, his arguments dismantling the accusations leveled against him, his evidence irrefutable.

“Furthermore, his decision to avoid provoking the culprit, to prioritize the safety of the hostage, was a testament to his sound judgment. Considering the fact that the culprit, Theo Ramstear, the man who’d taken his younger sister hostage, was a knight in training, we can assume that Carsein possesses a certain degree of physical capability as well. He is no longer the boy he once was. He has evolved, proving himself worthy of our attention.”

Could someone capable of such growth, of such strategic brilliance, truly be devoid of potential?

Carsein, through his actions, had demonstrated both intellectual prowess and physical capability.

“This concludes our discussion of the proposed amendments. I urge you to abandon your preconceived notions.”

With those words, Arsienne brought the meeting to a close.

The heads of families and the council members, their arguments silenced, began to disperse.

Isabella, approaching the princess, expressed her gratitude.

“Think nothing of it, Duchess. We cannot afford to waste the potential of someone who might one day become a valuable asset to our Empire.”
“…A valuable asset?”
“Indeed. I have witnessed Carsein's potential firsthand. Not only during the trial, but on a previous occasion as well.”

Arsienne, a knowing smile gracing her lips, recalled an event that had transpired during the Snowflake Festival, an event Isabella had been unaware of, a glimpse into Carsein’s hidden depths.

But her smile quickly faded.

‘I might have managed to quell their objections, but I cannot predict Count Retelvik’s next move. Young Master Carsein, you must be prepared.’

A sense of unease, a premonition of something sinister, lingered in the air. This year’s Eastern Nobles’ Conference promised to be a perilous affair.