Ace looked at the butler closely. Stern. Scarred. Dignified. Harlen Morr, the house's head butler — a man who had served House Thornevale longer than any living servant. Loyal. Efficient. Dangerous, in his own way.
"You served my father before I could walk," Ace said.
"I did, my lord."
"And you still do."
"With pride," Harlen answered evenly.
"Then answer me plainly," Ace said. "What is father planning for Lady Virelle and my brothers?"
There was a pause — brief, but sharp. The air between them tightened.
Harlen's tone lowered. "How do you know, my lord?"
"I don't need to answer you," Ace said coldly. "A mere servant... just because you are valued by my father doesn't make your position higher than mine."
The butler's brow furrowed slightly. "I am sorry for crossing my boundary, my lord."
Ace's eyes narrowed. "Answer my question "
Harlen, calm and exact. "Lord Thornevale has grown… cautious. Word reached him that Lady Virelle has been sending letters to the imperial household. Her brother, the Emperor, may be attempting to use her to influence succession quietly."
"And that's prohibited," Ace said with a cold smile.
"Utterly," Harlen confirmed. "House Thornevale holds its sovereignty sacred. We bow to the empire in name alone — and even that rankles your father."
Ace leaned back, hands folded. "And the punishment?"
Harlen's gaze didn't waver. "Execution. The same fate that befell your own mother, my lord."
According to the Thornevale law, once an individual marries into the Thornevales, it signifies the death of their former self, resulting in no further contact with their family. Even if you meet someone in a noble gathering, you will meet them as a Thornevale, not their relative.
Ace stilled.
The memory came slowly, like a poison resurfacing — not his own memory, but the ghost of one belonging to this body. A woman with a sharp tongue and sharp eyes. Affectionate in private, icy in public. He remembered now — his mother was executed when he was young.
"For sending a letter," Ace said slowly.
"She sent word to her brother," Harlen said. "A baron who had crossed a viscount. She meant no harm, but the law is absolute. House Thornevale does not interfere in foreign familial disputes. She knew this. She was warned."
Ace tapped a gloved finger against the bench armrest.
So the proud Lady Virelle — Emperor's sister or not — was treading the same path. And her golden sons, Cedric and Cassian, would be disarmed and cornered. Removed from the board before the game began.
"How soon?" Ace asked.
"Your father has sent the order," Harlen said. "They were to be executed before his return."
Ace's gaze drifted to the sunlit path beyond the fountain.
No plot. No arc. No mention of their fates in the story.
Because the author never intended them to matter.
It seems Father is clearing the path for me already.
Harlen stood silently, waiting for further instruction.
Ace finally rose, adjusting the cuffs of his coat.
"Keep watching them," he said. "I will be choosing the time for their execution."
"Yes, my lord."
"You are dismissed"
"Yes, my lord." Harlen bowed and turned away,
Ace looked back toward the manor — high windows, tower shadows, banners shifting in the wind.
Ace returned to the manor,
As Ace walked through the grand corridors, his boots clicking softly against polished stone, servants bowed, and guards straightened as he passed them.
He passed a sunlit hallway adorned with portraits of past lords, Just as he turned the corner near the west courtyard, muffled voices echoed off the stone.
Boys' voices.
Mocking. Laughing.
He slowed his steps.
A smaller, trembling voice answered — female, soft — trying to speak but barely being heard.
He followed the sound.
There, by the base of the western staircase, in the shadow of a mounted banner, was a girl. Her dress was smudged with dirt. Her long white hair was tangled, and her pale hands trembled as she tried to retrieve a worn book from the floor.
Two young men stood above her — handsome, well-dressed, and smirking.
Cedric and Cassian.
The twins. All three with similar white hair and silver eyes. The trait of Thornevales.
One of them nudged the book farther away with his shoe.
"Come now, dear sister," Cassian drawled, arms crossed. "If you want to be part of the family, at least learn to walk with dignity."
"She's a maid with a title," Cedric added with a cruel smile. "Father just forgot to scrub the stain properly."
Lucy bent down, reaching for the book again.
Cassian stepped in front of her.
Ace watched quietly, unnoticed for now.
He observed the girl — Lucy. His half-sister. She looked... small. Her dress wasn't fit for any noble girl, not even a minor one. Her shoes were worn. Her sleeves frayed. Yet… that shouldn't be possible.
All children of Thornevale received equal funds. Any of them — even Lucy — could request as much gold as they wished. He remembered the policy clearly.
Father considered financial dependency a sign of weakness.
So why was she dressed like a cast-off?
He stepped forward.
Quietly.
Firmly.
The sound of his boots made all three freeze.
Cassian turned first, his smirk instantly fading. "Brother…"
Cedric followed suit, straightening. "We didn't see you there."
Ace's eyes flicked between them, then to Lucy.
She stood still now, clutching the book to her chest, staring at the ground as if hoping to sink into it.
He spoke casually, voice light as silk.
"Interesting," he said. "I was under the impression we were heirs, not kennel dogs."
Cassian flinched slightly. "We were only—"
Ace didn't even look at him. "And what is that she's wearing?" he asked, voice flat now. "Is the House budget suddenly failing? "
He stepped toward the twins, voice still calm but harder now.
"What are you two doing?," he said. "Ganging up like dogs... tarnishing the family name."
Both tensed, expressions hardening. Not because of fear of getting caught, but fear of Ace, his cruelness, they were well aware of it.
Cedric's jaw clenched. "You think you're better than us just because you are elder?"
Ace smiled faintly. "No. I know I'm better than you. Because I see fear towards me in your eyes."
Cassian took a step forward, fists curling. Cedric mirrored him — they had the same instinct, same tells. They would try to fight. Together.
Ace didn't move. Didn't flinch. Just stood there, an immovable pillar draped in black and silver, eyes colder than steel.
A third voice interrupted before anyone could land a hit.
"Is there a disturbance?"
Harlen.
The head butler's voice cut through the air like a blade, and the tension shattered.
"Lord Ace," he said with a bow. "Is there a problem?"
Cassian and Cedric took a careful step back. "Not at all," Cedric said smoothly. "We were just leaving."
The twins gave a short nod and turned, walking away with tightly wound shoulders, masks already reforming.
Cowards.
Ace didn't bother watching them go.
Instead, he turned to Lucy.
She stood clutching the book to her chest, shoulders tense, head bowed slightly — waiting for the storm to pass.
"What's your name?" he asked.
Lucy blinked, startled. "I… Lucy, my lord."
His expression didn't change. "I asked your name."
She hesitated, confused. "Lucy…"
He tilted his head. "Is that all?"
She looked down, voice faltering. "Yes… Lucy."
Ace took one step closer, his presence weighing down the space like a drawn sword.
"No," he said. "Wrong."
Lucy looked up at him now, eyes wide with uncertainty.
"You are Lucy Thornevale," Ace said, voice quiet but iron clad. "That name is yours by blood. You walk these halls under that name. You breathe under that name. Do not forget it."
Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
He wasn't done.
"We do not bow our heads," he continued, his tone regal, absolute. "Not to nobles. Not to lords. Not even to the emperor."
Lucy stared at him, eyes shimmering slightly — not with tears, but with something more fragile.
Recognition.
No one had ever said her name like that.
No one had ever claimed her before.
She had spent her whole life walking carefully in the shadows of this house, afraid to take up space. Taught by silence that she was nothing but an accident swept under a rug of marble and gold.
Yet here stood the coldest Thornevale of them all — the untouchable one, the one who looked down on everyone.
Ace gave a faint smirk, not unkind — but sharp enough to cut.
"Stand tall, Lucy Thornevale," he said. "You carry the same blood as I do. Walk like it."
For the first time in her life, she felt like she belonged in the manor.
Not because someone showed her kindness…
But because someone acknowledged her name.
"You," Ace said, tone level. "Escort me to your chambers."
Lucy blinked. "M-my chambers?"
"Yes. I'd like to see how the House treats its daughters."
Behind him, Harlen gave the smallest tilt of his head — no protest, no comment. Just silent observation, like always.
Lucy nodded hesitantly and began walking ahead, her steps small but quick, as if afraid to waste his time. Ace followed at a measured pace, and Harlen walked behind them without a word.
They climbed a side staircase, one used mostly by staff and minor guests, into a quieter wing of the manor. The opulence of the central halls faded the farther they went — fewer chandeliers, simpler carpets, thinner windows.
Finally, Lucy stopped before a tall wooden door with iron hinges. She opened it slowly and stepped inside, gesturing faintly.
Ace entered.
His eyes scanned the room once — and narrowed.
It was… large. In fact, it was nearly the same size as his own chambers. That, at least, was consistent with the Thornevale estate's blueprint: all children of the House were assigned equal living space, regardless of birth.
But the standard—that was another story.
The furniture was bare. No gold accents. No custom carvings. The bed frame was plain, the drapes a dull beige, the carpet thin and worn. No tapestries. No personal handmaids or aides in sight. The air was dry, slightly musty.
The room felt like it belonged to a pet noble from some backwater barony, not a child of Thornevale.
This was according to the plot, Lucy living condition was low, but her self esteem was even lower.
Being treated like a servant in her own family was one of the reasons that caused her to betray the family.
Ace stood silent for a long moment before remembering another plot,
Then, without looking at Harlen, he spoke.
"Behind the curtain."
Harlen understood instantly. He stepped toward the tall, draped curtain near the corner of the room and disappeared behind it without a sound.
Ace stepped forward and gestured at the brass bell string mounted beside the door.
"Ring it," he said.
Lucy hesitated. "What…?"
"The bell. For your maid."
"O-of course."
She pulled it three times. The chime echoed faintly down the hall.
They waited. The minutes stretched.
Ace's expression remained still, composed — but cold fury simmered behind his eyes.