“I don’t know why that man suddenly wants to meet me. The only way I can see it is that, since his daughter was kidnapped, he intends to hold me responsible.”
Ludger knew about Walter Roschen.
A bloodless, tearless iron-blooded businessman.
A living legend in the industry who raised the Roschen family—once just an ordinary merchant house—into a major corporation.
He was especially famous for seizing control of lucrative businesses related to magic and various artifacts.
But Ludger remembered Walter Roschen for another reason.
He was Sedina Roschen’s biological father—the very man she despised the most.
“Or perhaps, since the troublesome child of his family disappeared, he intends to express his thanks for it?”
Naturally, Ludger’s tone grew sharp and cutting.
He hated more than anything a parent who failed in their duty to their own child.
Vierno smiled bitterly, as if he understood Ludger’s reaction.
“Still, wouldn’t it be better to meet directly and speak with him?”
“Professor Vierno, it sounds as if you’ve heard something yourself.”
“...As an outsider, it would not look good for me to speak carelessly about another family’s affairs. Still, if you meet him in person, I don’t believe the outcome you fear will happen.”
“...”
Ludger hesitated.
If Vierno was going so far as to insist, there had to be something behind it.
“...For your sake, I’ll agree to meet him once.”
“Yes. Then I shall send word right away. He should arrive shortly.”
Vierno stepped outside to make contact, returning sooner than expected.
It seemed he had indeed only sent the message cleanly.
Before long, a carriage pulled up in front of the hideout building.
“Please, get in.”
Following Vierno’s lead, Ludger, Alex, and Bellaruna boarded the carriage.
Bellaruna still looked puzzled as to why she had ended up accompanying them here at all.
The carriage was far more spacious than expected.
Even with four passengers, plenty of room remained, and the interior was filled with layers of defensive mechanisms.
‘This is the sort of carriage only royalty would ride in.’
No matter what attack came, as long as they stayed inside, it would be as secure as a vault.
It was clear just how wealthy the Roschen family was, and how much they were extending courtesy to their guests.
The carriage headed toward a large mansion on the outskirts of Rederbelk.
It wasn’t the Roschen main estate, but rather a branch house in the city.
One could call it a villa.
But for a “villa,” the scale and grandeur were absurd.
“...Just how much money do they have?”
Alex muttered as he looked over the wide grounds.
Soon the carriage stopped, and the group followed a butler deeper into the mansion.
“Vierno Dentis.”
Standing before the ornate door, Vierno knocked politely.
“Come in.”
At the voice from within, Vierno glanced back at the party, nodded, and opened the door.
“Welcome. I am Walter Roschen, head of the Roschen family.”
Walter Roschen appeared to be in his early forties.
His hair was neatly combed back, his face smooth and without a single wrinkle.
Yet his small, sharp eyes, sunken cheeks, and the shadows etched there gave him a chilling, cold impression.
It was immediately obvious why he had been called bloodless and tearless.
‘So this is Sedina Roschen’s father.’
It was hard to believe he was related by blood to Sedina, with her round, soft, almost silly appearance.
The only similarity was hair color.
Clearly, Sedina had taken most of her looks from her mother.
“Ludger Cherish.”
“I’ve heard of you.”
“You said you wished to meet me. I’m busy, so if you would please get straight to the point, I’d appreciate it.”
For a first meeting, his tone was shockingly rude.
Vierno flinched and looked nervously at Ludger.
But Ludger’s gaze never wavered, piercing into Walter Roschen.
Walter could have flared at such boldness, but instead, without a change of expression, he nodded.
“I heard my daughter has been quite troublesome in many ways. Allow me to take this chance, as her father, to thank you.”
His calm, still voice carried not the faintest trace of feeling.
Ludger’s brow twitched slightly.
“I didn’t expect you to be the sort of man who cherished his daughter.”
The weight behind his words was obvious.
Vierno watched the exchange as though sitting beside a time bomb, ready to intervene if things went too far.
But Walter Roschen gave an unexpected response.
Instead of snapping back, he gave a faint, self-mocking smile and accepted the jab.
“You’re right. I’m not in any position to say such things.”
“...”
“In truth, this should never have happened. But as things stand now, I cannot just sit by and do nothing. That is why I invited you here.”
Ludger looked at him with an expression that clearly demanded, What game are you playing?
Walter didn’t answer directly but instead spoke differently.
“I can’t explain it sitting still. Shall we take a walk?”
He led them out to the rear grounds of the mansion.
There, a massive greenhouse awaited.
“This place...”
Bellaruna looked around in wonder.
It wasn’t something built to impress others.
As an elf, she could feel it clearly—the plants inside had been nurtured with real care.
“This is my garden.”
Walter Roschen picked up a spray bottle and watered the plants as he spoke.
His motions were smooth, practiced—not those of a novice.
“The head of a conglomerate has enough leisure to enjoy such a hobby?”
“Of course not. I steal the time from what little I have.”
Shaa—
The petals, drinking in the water, gave off a fresh fragrance.
As he watched them, Walter asked,
“Do you think it’s an unfitting pastime?”
“At the very least, it’s utterly different from the image the public knows.”
“That’s natural. I wasn’t the one who first cultivated this garden.”
Walter’s gaze turned wistful as he looked toward a white chair at the back of the greenhouse.
“It was my wife who built this place. I only continue tending it in her stead.”
“...Your wife.”
“She was the last survivor of the Plante family.”
Walter knew everything—who his wife had been, what bloodline she had passed down to Sedina, and what value that gave her among elves.
That was why Ludger couldn’t understand.
“A man like you abandoned his own daughter?”
Drip.
The spray of water over the flowers stopped.
With his back turned, his expression couldn’t be seen. Likely, it hadn’t changed.
But even in the view of his back alone, it was clear countless emotions churned violently in Walter’s mind.
“...I won’t deny it. Whatever the reason, what I did surely left a wound on that child. I have no right to call myself a father. Still, I had no choice.”
“And what great reason was that?”
“My wife has already passed away. What do you think the cause was?”
Walter’s gaze turned on Ludger.
Ludger realized the moment he looked into Walter’s eyes.
That man was not without emotion.
He was simply like Ludger himself—never showing it outwardly.
Behind those cold, ruthless-looking eyes writhed emotions hotter than anyone else present.
“It was assassination. The work of those who targeted the bloodline of the Plante family.”
“The Shadewardens?”
Walter shook his head.
“If it had been them, my wife would not have died. They would have sought to capture her alive. I know why they wanted Sedina. The ones who targeted my wife were other elves.”
“Other elves...”
“The Moderates.”
Vierno was the one who answered in his place.
“The Moderates? Aren’t they the ones opposing the radical Lifret family? You’re saying such people tried to erase the Plante family?”
“Yes. Exactly.”
“...I can’t understand that.”
The radical Lifret family sought to restore the World Tree to its prime and create a paradise for elves.
Their belief was that any sacrifice and war required to achieve it could be endured.
By contrast, the Moderates claimed they had lost too much in war already and must preserve peace.
From a distance, the Moderates’ ideology seemed more righteous.
“That’s what everyone thinks. If they are Moderates, then surely they would protect a surviving member of the Plante family and help rebuild their house.”
Vierno’s expression twisted with suppressed emotion, a mixture of pity and loathing for his kin.
“But think about it. To restore the Plante family would take enormous time, resources, and effort. Reviving a house once cast out for grave sins would provoke fierce opposition within elven society. That could only lead to conflict.”
“...So you’re saying the Moderates didn’t want the conflict itself?”
“If you remove the single seed of conflict, then it won’t grow any further.”
In the end, the so-called Moderates were nothing more than another faction committing evil in their own name.
“They were the first to discover my wife’s true identity.”
Walter’s eyes sank heavily as he stared into the flowerbeds.
“They approached her kindly, claiming they wished to help restore her family’s honor. But behind the mask, they hid blades.”
“...At least the claim of helping rebuild the Plante family was true, then.”
“Yes. Likely for the sake of opposing the Lifret family. The legitimacy of the Plante name surpassed even Lifret’s, so they wanted to use it as a political weapon to crush their rivals. A puppet, bent to their will. The problem was, my wife wanted none of it.”
“She refused them?”
“What she wanted was never the restoration of her house.”
A bitter smile lingered on Walter Roschen’s lips.
“All she dreamed of was tending this garden and living happily with her family. That was all.”
But once the Moderates realized that truth, they changed their approach.
If she would not take their hand, then they would erase her from the world entirely.
Better to cut the Plante line off than allow it to fall into Lifret’s grasp.
“Not long after, the ambush came. Assassins broke through our guards and attacked.”
Walter’s face darkened as the memory surfaced.
“We survived only barely. I had reinforced our defenses just in case, and that saved us. But even so, we couldn’t prevent it entirely. She was gravely wounded.”
“If she was the last survivor of the Plante family, wasn’t she immensely strong?”
Bellaruna cautiously spoke up.
Elven noble houses didn’t ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ simply pass down names.
Their blood carried with it innate power, and their heirs were born strong.
“She was weakened from years of fleeing. Even with long recuperation, she never fully recovered. Then the ambush struck and her condition worsened beyond repair.”
Walter still remembered.
Her frail smile as she held his hand in her last moments.
The warmth fading from her hand as it slipped away like a falling leaf.
—Take care of Sedina.
The words she whispered as she closed her eyes, thinking only of their child to the very end.
He could never forget.
“They won’t give up. Sedina carries the blood. Their target will simply shift to her. That’s why...”
“...That’s why you treated your own daughter as if she didn’t exist in your family. Abandoned her, showed her no affection.”
“Wealthy merchants and nobles often have illegitimate lovers hidden away. I disguised Sedina as one of those children.”
Walter laughed bitterly.
“No one questioned it. They believed easily that I had sired a child elsewhere. Such things happen often in these circles. I thought it was better that way. If she looked like a discarded child, the assassins wouldn’t suspect.”
“So you left her like that?”
Ludger remembered how Sedina’s eyes had always burned with anger and hatred whenever she spoke of her family.
She had never voiced it, but Ludger had felt it—
That behind that fury lay a grief deeper than anything else.
“That was the only way to keep her safe.”
Ludger seized Walter by the collar.
“Don’t you dare excuse yourself with that rotten pretense. Whatever you say, you were nothing but a father who abandoned his child.”
“Lu—Ludger! Stop this!”
The escalating tension left Vierno panicked.
But the one who stopped him was Walter Roschen himself, pinned by Ludger’s grip.
Walter met Ludger’s eyes squarely and asked,
“Then what should I have done? With assassins hunting for my daughter’s life, what else could I have done?”
“You should have protected her to the end!”
At Ludger’s roar, Vierno, Alex, and Bellaruna all froze in shock.
Because no one else—least of all Ludger Cherish—had ever raised his voice with such raw emotion.
When he was angry, his tone had always grown colder, quieter—never this.