KFBRV Pt 2 Ch 17
- 13 hours ago
- 8 min read
His eyes widened in genuine surprise. It was the absolute first time he had ever witnessed Ferdinand protest with such rabid defiance.
While Ferdinand occasionally whined or threw tantrums in front of his mother, Sasha, he had never once dared to challenge him.
Ferdinand understood better than anyone that his father was the absolute authority within the Albrecht estate.
[Ulrich] "What in the world...... are you babbling about?"
He glared at him, his eyes narrowing like a serpent's.
[Ferdinand] "The money I got from pawning those guns is barely anything! Why are you making such a fuss over pocket change? Just give me a week! I'll bring back ten times that amount!"
The Count's perpetually overbearing expression crumbled completely in a single instant.
Just how far down does this boy's rock bottom go?
He stared, his jaw literally dropping at the sight of his son. The man standing before him looked like an entirely different person from the Ferdinand he knew.
Ferdinand had never been a respectable human being in his entire life, but he possessed an innate, cunning instinct for knowing exactly when to grovel.
Yet the current Ferdinand seemed entirely incapable of even the most basic calculation—that he stood before the head of the family and needed to placate him.
[Ulrich] "You......"
A low groan escaped his lips. Having operated the Ulrich Casino for years, he recognized Ferdinand's exact condition with chilling clarity.
He had seen it countless times before.
The classic, unmistakable eyes of a severe gambling addict.
The crazed, euphoric stare of someone hopelessly hooked on the thrill of a few massive wins.
A man with eyes like that, regardless of how brilliant he once was, inevitably devolved to the point where he couldn't even recognize his own family.
What filled the Count with an even deeper despair was the sheer intensity of the madness burning in Ferdinand's eyes—a frenzy that far surpassed any degeneration he had ever witnessed at the Ulrich Casino.
He had undoubtedly been playing for stakes infinitely higher than anything the Ulrich Casino offered, intoxicated by an unimaginably potent thrill.
What in the world happened to this boy while I wasn't watching?
The Count clenched his fists tightly.
Ferdinand had always been a hedonist, indulging freely in alcohol, drugs, and gambling. However, he had never once let himself slip into such absolute, self-destructive addiction.
[Ferdinand] "Don't you have any pity for a son who just narrowly escaped the gallows?!"
The Count scrutinized Ferdinand's face with profound desolation. The hollowed, sunken areas around his eyes and cheeks, leaving only the cheekbones bulging starkly, gave him a grotesque, almost macabre appearance.
People desperate to escape reality become incredibly vulnerable to addiction.
The absolute terror that his head might actually be severed, the suffocating fear that a guilty verdict would lead to his immediate execution.
It appeared Ferdinand had entirely surrendered his mind to escape the crushing reality of that fear.
If he had just been locked in a prison cell during the trial, it never would have come to this. At the very least, he would have squandered far less of my wealth.
Ferdinand's trial was a specific proceeding to "verify whether his immunity remains valid."
It was not a criminal trial, but rather a review of procedural legitimacy, and he possessed the status of high nobility.
Consequently, he was never taken into custody during the trial period.
A hollow, desolate chuckle forced its way from the Count's throat.
If he was going to ruin himself this thoroughly......
A dark, suppressed thought breached his subconscious.
It would have been better to just let him die.
It was a visceral contempt he had violently buried because Ferdinand was the sole heir to the Albrecht Countdom, his only legitimate bloodline.
However, the Count swiftly suffocated the emotion.
No. This is the Albrecht family that my grandfather barely managed to seize through a rebellion.
If he lacked an heir, the absolute moment he died, another branch of the Albrecht family would instantly claim his seat.
From his father's generation onward, Ulrich had grown up listening endlessly to the bitter lamentations of the branch families—the stark, humiliating disparity in treatment between the direct and collateral bloodlines.
He knew the reality of the branch families: possessing the blood of nobility in name only, while practically receiving less respect than obscure provincial lords.
He would rather have dirt thrown in his eyes than hand the Countdom over to the serpentine relatives who constantly coveted his position.
Dammit. Therefore, I absolutely can't discard this wretched bastard......
[Ulrich] "Rolf! Bring Rolf here immediately!"
He bellowed at the top of his lungs for the butler responsible for this disaster, but the footmen merely exchanged nervous glances.
Only then did he remember. Today was Victory Day, and he had dispatched Rolf to secure a meeting with Charlotte.
Pressing a hand to his throbbing temples, he violently yanked the bell pull to summon the footmen directly.
[Ulrich] "Jacob! Bind this bastard tightly and lock him in his room so he can't step a single foot outside. To think he's become a wretch who doesn't even recognize his own father."
[Jacob] "Yes, Master."
[Ulrich] "I don't care if it takes dozens of footmen. House arrest him and ensure he absolutely never leaves that room!"
After issuing the strict command, he stormed out of Ferdinand's room. As he did, the door to the room Odette once occupied entered his line of sight.
Things were never this disastrous when that lowly thing was here.
The golden era of two years ago felt like a complete fabrication. A time when everything was stable and devoid of such anxiety.
His mood plummeted into an abyss. A bizarre, suffocating depression settled over him.
[Ulrich] "Good grief. If she was verified as a real Purifier, why did she have to go and die? Honestly, this is why those with filthy bloodlines are......"
He muttered the harsh words to shake off the gloom, but the bitter taste remained.
After staring at Odette's former door for several seconds, he stumbled slightly before straightening his posture and forcing his steps forward.
Reflecting on how his glorious past now felt like a fleeting dream, he descended the grand central staircase to the floor below.
From the top of the stairs connecting to the attic, Mrs. Becker secretly spied on the Count as he descended.
It seems those two finally had a massive fight.
She had given birth to a son last year. However, her status within the Count's estate saw zero elevation.
The Count hadn't spared a single glance for her son. He treated her with a chilling callousness, completely devoid of the affection one might expect for the mother of his child.
During her pregnancy, claiming he couldn't stand the sight of her, he locked her in the freezing attic—the same miserable room where Odette was frequently confined. He provided only a single, meager meal a day, just enough to prevent her from starving.
During that entire ordeal, he visited her exactly once. And even that single visit was solely to deliver a brutal warning.
[Ulrich] "Vanessa. How can I trust that the child you birthed is my blood? What it means is, how can I possibly accept a child that might belong to another man, even as an illegitimate bastard?"
He was a man who seduced women effortlessly, yet harbored absolute contempt for the very women who succumbed to his charm.
He possessed a rock-solid conviction that a woman willing to sleep with a married man held zero loyalty or virtue.
He didn't state it explicitly, but she instantly deciphered the absolute implication behind his words.
It means "I will never acknowledge your child as mine, so get rid of it yourself."
Originally, she had planned to meticulously detail everything she endured with Odette to the Count the moment the thread bracelet unraveled from her arm, confirming Odette's death.
She hoped that even through tattling, she might win back a sliver of his favor.
However, the absolute contempt in his eyes during that visit shattered that hope. She realized with terrifying clarity that if she spoke those words, she would never be forgiven.
He treats the woman carrying his own child with such freezing cruelty. I stand to gain absolutely nothing by telling him.
On the contrary, he will blame me for every misfortune, claiming it's because I acted like a treacherous bat.
Throughout her pregnancy, resentment festered within her, and parallel to that resentment, a profound caution took root.
Mrs. Becker no longer desired or craved the Count's love or favor. Her sole objective now was the absolute safety of herself and her son.
Therefore, now is the time to wait.
After observing the commotion below, she quietly retreated up the stairs. Her young son waited for his mother in the freezing attic.
Kayaks sliced powerfully through the waters of the Rothbart River, navigating a current dusted with floating white rose petals.
The laughter erupting from every corner of the river proved how deeply everyone was reveling in the festival's atmosphere.
Standing on a secluded arch bridge overlooking the river, Odette watched the kayaks below before lifting her gaze.
In the square ahead, an endless shower of confetti and rose petals rained down. Several people danced merrily amidst the colorful storm, swaying to the lively music of the parade's marching band.
She reached out, catching a single piece of confetti as it drifted from the sky, and murmured.
[Odette] "Wow, are they really showering this all day long? The Grand Cathedral must have an absolute surplus of funds."
The Victory Day itself naturally appeared in <The Only Savior>.
It was the specific event that solidified Charlotte's position as the 'Second S-class Purifier,' inheriting the spirit of Rosaline, the 'First S-class Purifier.'
It also served as the crucial event where Charlotte secured the unwavering support of the orthodox scripturalists by presenting herself as Rosaline's reincarnation.
[Odette] "Still, the event was never on this massive a scale."
In <The Only Savior>, the grandest and most extravagant core events were exclusively centered within high society.
The debutante ball, the rivalry with Karin, horseback riding with the male leads, elegant tea times, and opera house dates. The game's narrative revolved entirely around entangled romances with the male protagonists.
The Victory Day event functioned merely as a minor, low-key interlude designed to lightly refresh the atmosphere between the major social events. Its scale had never reached this level of grandeur.
[Odette] "Well, more than a few things have changed. What's the point of nitpicking this?"
Everything had deviated drastically from the game. If she had to pinpoint the most absolute divergence, wasn't it the simple fact that she was still alive?
Following the original game's timeline, she should have long since lost her head as the villainess, well before this year's Victory Day even arrived.
Instead of standing here, comfortably enjoying street food.
I actually get to see this year's autumn. I suppose I undeniably altered my fate.
As evening approached, the wind carried a distinct chill. She pulled her hood tighter and organized her thoughts.
At that exact moment, loud, abrasive voices erupted from the road leading to the arch bridge where she stood.
[Holy Knight] "Clear the path! The parade procession will be passing through here shortly!"
[Holy Knight] "You're in the way! Stop loitering and press yourselves flat against the railing! Bow your heads!"
She glanced over her shoulder.
Holy Knight trainees were marching toward her, aggressively clearing the path of anyone who might obstruct the parade.
It appeared they were the vanguard, tasked with opening the route and managing the crowds before the main procession arrived.
They act like excessively arrogant bodyguards.
Just as the thought crossed her mind, they began bellowing at her, who stood completely alone on the bridge.
[Holy Knight] "You there, the woman with the brown hair! Stop loitering and move to the very edge of the bridge!"
It seemed the parade procession intended to cross this exact bridge.
Their fuss was entirely unnecessary. She was the only person on the bridge, and she was already standing flush against the edge.
[Holy Knight] "Hurry up! Press against the railing and bow your head!"
I'm already leaning against the railing. What more do you want?
She blatantly refused to bow. The Holy Knight trainee scowled at her defiance but lacked the time to throw a proper tantrum.
Thump, thump.
The rhythmic marching of the Holy Knights was rapidly approaching. The trainee hastily crossed the bridge to clear the crowds further ahead.
Odette remained by the railing, staring intently at the approaching procession. There was something she absolutely needed to confirm with her own eyes.
Shortly after, an immaculate white Landau carriage, heavily escorted by Holy Knights, rolled onto the bridge.
From her elevated position within the grand, open-top white carriage at the absolute center of the knightly procession, Charlotte beamed a radiant smile and waved to the non-existent crowd.
Then, her gaze locked directly onto Odette.
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