Chapter 277: 277

"OWW! You bastard!" Kael howled, swatting his hand away. "Why are you pinching me?!"

"To see if I’m dreaming!"

"Then pinch yourself, you ancient fossil!"

Before Ramos could reply, a thunderous roar erupted.

"USELESS!"

Ruth’s furious voice echoed through the room like an explosion. The next moment, both Kael and Ramos found themselves launched out of the chamber like ragdolls.

THUD!

The duo hit the ground outside the door, groaning in pain.

Inside, Ruth dusted his hands as if removing some troublesome debris and muttered, "Children..."

Then, raising his voice slightly, he added, "Leave the matter with the Ice Elves to me. I’ve reached a consensus with them. They’ll be sending an envoy soon."

He paused just as he was about to leave, turning slightly with his back to them.

"Before you leave for the capital, this will be handled. You only need to do your part—and get going."

Just before stepping out, he added in a low voice, "Also... I’ve called in helpers for you."

And with that, he vanished down the corridor, cloak swaying behind him.

Back outside, Ramos and Kael groaned and sat up, rubbing their backs and shoulders.

They looked up and found several servants standing nearby, staring at them like they had just seen two lunatics thrown from the sky.

Kael blinked, then nudged Ramos.

"Play it cool."

Ramos cleared his throat and stood up tall. "We’re, uh, just inspecting the flooring!"

Kael nodded. "Yes, yes. Checking if it’s clean enough."

He pointed randomly. "Hey, you! There’s some dust here. Get a broom and tidy it up."

The servant looked more confused than anything else but nodded awkwardly and scurried away.

Behind them, Rami stood silently, arms crossed and a deep sigh escaping his lips. He looked at Kael, then at Ramos. Then back again.

Now I understand where Kael gets his personality from.

It’s definitely Lord Ramos.

The resemblance wasn’t just in the sarcasm—it was in the chaos, the unpredictability, the absurd confidence in even the most embarrassing moments.

It’s all genetic, Rami concluded grimly.

......

A low, ragged sob echoed through the dimly lit chamber, trembling like the dying hum of a weeping violin. The sickly pale woman with long, disheveled blue hair sat slumped at the edge of the bed, her slender frame trembling violently. Her fingers clutched the sheets so tightly that her knuckles turned white, and her body jerked with every convulsion of grief.

Her voice broke through the silence, soaked in anguish and despair."You are cruel... You are very cruel..."

"You heartless,cold human devoid of even basic virtue a human should have."

"How can there be such a monster crawling in human skin?"

Across from her, a white-haired man stood, his posture firm and still, eyes as emotionless and cold as the winter moonlight that bled through the curtains. He watched her cry with visible confusion—his mind trying to understand, dissect, and make sense of her pain as though it were a riddle of logic, not emotion.

"I have done my duty with utmost perfection," he began slowly, his tone calculated and measured. "I have given everything a man can possibly give—money, riches, power, control, gifts, a mansion... What more do you want?"

The woman’s head rose, her red-rimmed eyes filled with sorrow that twisted into something darker. Her whole body trembled before she let out a scream that shattered the fragile silence like glass.

"I don’t want any of that! I don’t need your riches!"

Her voice broke, cracking like a whip against the walls.

"All I ever wanted was you... Your love... That’s what I craved."

The man’s expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of doubt briefly touching his eyes.

"Love..." he echoed, as if the word itself were foreign to him, something distant and unknown. "I don’t understand what this love is, nor do I know how to express it. But tell me—have I ever done anything to betray your trust?"

"NOOOOOOOO!"

Her scream tore through the room like a storm. She lunged forward, grabbed a porcelain vase, and flung it across the room with a shriek. It shattered against the wall in an explosion of white shards.

"Love... Love is all I want!"

She laughed—high, broken, and eerie. It wasn’t joy; it was madness creeping in, slow and corrosive. Her eyes widened and gleamed as tears streamed down her pale cheeks. Her shoulders shook with giggles that didn’t belong to someone sane.

"Hehehehe..."

"I understand now... I understand everything, Duke."

Her words were sharp and bitter.

"It’s because I gave birth to a daughter, isn’t it? That’s why you don’t love me. It was never me—it was the child’s gender!"

The Duke’s brows furrowed in alarm. "That’s not—"

Before he could respond, she lunged again, arms outstretched with that twisted smile, as though she’d just solved the riddle of her pain.

"But that’s a small problem... A very small one. If I bear you a son, surely then you’ll love me properly."

She threw herself at him, clawing at his shirt, fingers fumbling for the buttons.

"Stop!" he shouted, stepping back—but his arms suddenly froze, a thin layer of rime spreading across them. A pale, icy mist danced around his sleeves as his hands became encased in frost.

His eyes widened.

"W-what...?"

The woman’s laughter rose, filling the room like a haunted chorus. Her gaze burned with obsession and madness.

"You said you wanted a child worthy of you, right? Then I’ll make it happen."

She was upon him now—lips parted, fingers trembling with intent—just as the world shattered.

CRACK!

The bed dissolved. The cold mist vanished. The blue-haired woman’s manic face evaporated like smoke.

Ruth woke with a violent gasp.

"Haaaaah!"

He sat up in his bed, sweat soaking through his clothes as if he’d just stepped from a storm. His breathing came fast and uneven, his heart thundering against his ribs.

The room around him was grey, stark, and devoid of warmth—a place stripped bare of emotion, where even the air felt heavy and lifeless.

He sat silently, the images of that nightmare still flashing in his mind. Slowly, he brought a trembling hand to his forehead and wiped away the sweat before pushing back his damp white hair.

He reached for the drawer beside his desk and pulled it open.

Inside lay a single photograph.

In the photo stood a family: a young Ruth beside a woman with brilliant purple hair and a tired yet hopeful smile. In her arms, she held a small child.

He stared at the picture, eyes fixed on the woman’s expression.

Then, softly—more to himself than anyone—he muttered, "I never cared about the gender. As long as the child was strong... as long as they can survive in this world."

He paused.

"Whatever..."

He stood slowly, the weariness of his years settling once more on his shoulders.

With a silent sigh, he walked to the basin to wash up.

Another day was beginning. Another mask to wear. Another war to fight..inside and out.