BSGE 71

Although her belongings had already been confiscated at the count’s residence and she was under investigation, Firina—her mind dulled by days of interrogation—failed to notice the hidden mechanisms in her jewelry box.

“That, that’s something only the Viscount Seaulus can wear! I, as the Viscount, am the one who—!”

Firina, consumed by extreme anxiety, blurted out whatever came to mind.

“You! That’s mine! If you carelessly put it on, the curse will—!”

Her desperate shouting couldn’t stop Beatty.

Beatty, with a calm expression, pointed her delicate fingers toward the ring.

Typically, if someone without the family’s bloodline wore a noble house’s signet ring, they would be immediately struck by the ring’s curse. But this time—

Clink.

The ring remained silent after Beatty slipped it on.

“Hmm.”

The count behind her, who had already confirmed the ring’s magical state, nodded as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Had Beatty’s mother—who thought performing as the countess while also managing the family duties would be difficult—not refused to yield her position to Firina, the succession rights to the Seaulus viscount would have originally been granted to Beatty.

The Seaulus ring submitted to its rightful blood heir.

As if expressing its will, a subtle light emanated from the ring on the child’s finger.

Firina, with her last bastion potentially crumbling, stared in despair, her mouth agape, unable to utter a word.

Tap.

Before Firina’s shocked eyes, Beatty unfolded the official document of status.

“No, no! This can’t be!”

“……”

Firina shook her head violently.

Her eyes, fixed on the document in Beatty’s hands, trembled uncontrollably.

Without responding, Beatty calmly gripped the top of the document with both hands.

Rip.

The document split into two pieces without resistance, touched by the glowing ring of the family head.

“Please, don’t! I’’m begging you, no—!”

Rip, tear, rip—

Beatty tore the document without hesitation.

“No! My status, no—! Aah! Nooo!”

With each piece of the document torn, Firina screamed as if her own body was being shredded.

The ear-piercing sound echoed through the underground prison’s ceiling, causing the surrounding soldiers to wince.

The torn document fragments fell to the floor.

Immediately afterward, as if proving its connection to the noble registry kept elsewhere, the name ‘Firina Seaulus’ began to shine—and then slowly, the white light erased the name before burning away with the other fragments.

What her aunt had most cherished.

Beatty felt no remorse in erasing the noble title.

“This can’t be. How could this happen? I’m no longer a noble… No, this can’t be—how could this happen to me—”

Staring at the floor where not even ashes remained, Firina mumbled like someone who had lost her mind.

“Never use the Seaulus name anywhere again.”

“What…?”

Beatty’s firm words made Firina raise her head in confusion.

“This is also for your own good. If you claim to be a noble anywhere now, you’ll be punished for impersonation.”

“Me, Firina… who was born and raised in the central nobility, who even had access to the royal palace…!”

Noble impersonation.

The mere thought that she could now be punished just for uttering her original name made her tremble.

Firina’s body quivered with an unfamiliar sense of humiliation and fear of the unknown.

“What are you going to do with me now!”

Her final act of defiance rang out.

“Don’t tell me… now that I’m no longer a noblewoman, you’re going to sell me to some wealthy old man…”

“?!”

Beatty was stunned by Firina’s trembling, venomous suggestion.

‘How could she even think something like that?’

The sheer malice was something Beatty hadn’t anticipated.

To Firina, who spoke of punishment at her own level, Beatty didn’t bother to respond.

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“I won’t do anything. Just take back what you stole.”

She thought returning what was taken would be sufficient.

Because.

“Try living without title or property.”

“!”

This alone would be punishment enough.

Firina’s eyes widened in shock as she comprehended her future circumstances.

“No…”

Her unfocused eyes seemed to be looking into an imagined future.

Life as a commoner, without nobility or money.

The mere thought was unbearable.

“No… I don’t want this!”

She might not waste energy on hatred when powerless, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t seek revenge when the opportunity arose.

Beatty turned away, looking at the wailing Firina with dry eyes.

“Are you done now, little one?”

“…Yes.”

The Duke, who had been watching from behind, stepped forward—the one who had been observing to let the child do as she wished.

Feeling the warm, natural embrace of his hand around her shoulder, Beatty nodded.

“This is enough.”

Step by step, she walked away from Firina, who lay crying on the floor, her back turned decisively.

The count followed, subtly signaling to his subordinate.

‘Though the good child says this is sufficient…’

He had other plans.

‘Those who insulted his dead wife, and most importantly, hurt his precious child, cannot expect an easy death.’

In the long time ahead, the criminal would deeply understand the terror of the lion’s den.

Forever.

*

Meanwhile, in the kingdom’s capital.

An unexpected bloodbath swept through the Viscount Seaulus mansion in the capital.

The social circles of the capital trembled, bewildered by the brutal northern count’s sudden rampage.

The annex where Beatty had been imprisoned burned, and the servants who had enthusiastically participated in tormenting the young noble found themselves executed.

During the family’s absence, Aslan, the young lord, had learned of his precious sister’s stained childhood—and his blade showed no mercy.

Clink.

As Carlitos returned to the count’s residence, a blood-stained key hung from his hand.

‘I should wash this before giving it to the little one.’

Looking dispassionately at the blood on his hand, Carlitos imagined the face of the child who would receive the key.

‘She’ll be delighted.’

Thinking of his younger sister’s acorn-like round eyes curving in a half-moon smile, the corners of his own mouth involuntarily lifted.

A faint smile—from someone who had just massacred dozens—appeared pure and innocent.

And so began the journey of the “mad dog of Lord Aslan” in this life, a title he would hear more often than “Red lion.”

*

*Grrrr.*

In the lazy afternoon sunlight of Aslan’s castle garden, a massive lion lay sprawled out, letting out a low growl.

“Is the lion okay?”

No matter how trained as a guard lion, the beast was enormous compared to the small girl.

Beatty, unafraid, stroked the lion’s back without hesitation, much to Ather’s surprise.

“Huh?”

“I was wondering… if you’re afraid of animals.”

Ather recalled the previous incident where Beatty had been frightened of dogs.

He had been careful not to trigger any bad memories for the little star.

“Oh, you mean the guard animals?”

Beatty momentarily remembered her past encounters with guard dogs.

There was still a reflexive twinge from the time she had been caught in a trap while in squirrel form.

‘Certainly, large dogs were scary.’

But looking at the lion—larger than several guard dogs combined—she felt no fear at all.

‘Somehow, he reminds me of my father and older brother. And besides…’

Lick.

The lion, staring intently at her, affectionately licked her with its massive tongue.

‘When he shows his fondness so directly like this.’

Fixing her hair, disheveled from the lion’s grooming, she spoke.

“This one’s fine.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It’s cute.”

‘Cute…?’

As Beatty nodded confidently, Ather looked at the lion’s massive body in disbelief.

The muscles rippling beneath the skin were visible even as the lion stretched.

“…”

After averting his eyes as if he’d seen something inappropriate, Ather asked seriously, “Isn’t the lady the cutest?”

“Huh?”

Beatty suddenly became flustered.

She now understood what “cute” truly meant, having heard it so often from the maids.

‘Suddenly being called cute.’

But hearing it from a boy her own age was entirely new, and she had no idea how to respond.

Seeing Beatty stiffen, Ather’s eyes crinkled with amusement.

“Lady? So cute that you were turned to stone from divine jealousy?”

‘What nonsense is he talking about!’

Just as Beatty’s expression showed her shock, and Ather was about to playfully poke her round cheek—

*Whoosh—*

A fierce sound cut through the air, and a sword scabbard sliced the space where Ather’s hand had been.

“Step away.”