In truth, it was Kaidrich’s attempt to silence the matter out of embarrassment over Iris’s existence, but they could not dig deeper into the whereabouts of that enchanting maiden. Thus, Iris became a figure known only by face, with her name remaining a mystery.
“Ah, I had advanced grades early. I was in the same cohort as Elder Brother, so I didn’t have many close friends,” Iris spoke hesitantly.
It wasn’t just seeming like that—there truly were none. Yet, some inexplicable shame held her back from stating it outright.
“And also—”
What a dull cultivation path her school days had been. Even when she tried to recall the smallest detail, all she could summon were memories of study and discipline. Ultimately, she finished her explanation.
“And I attended the academy for the full two years and graduated properly.”
Cedric’s eyes, cool and indifferent, surveyed her reaction. Tapping his finger on the desk as if the words came from nowhere, he finally spoke.
“What about the rest?”
“What do you mean?”
“Romance.”
Iris’s face flushed scarlet as she paused, puzzled.
My heavens.
Such a question was excessive for someone who had lived so purely.
“I-I never engaged in any impure relations!”
“Oh, that’s a relief.”
While Iris seemed panicked, Cedric answered casually.
“You’d be angry.”
His tone carried an unfamiliar chill, which left Iris momentarily stunned.
Most nobles were conservative, sure, but she had never thought Cedric was one to dwell on the past so deeply.
Cedric’s crimson eyes looked down on her, a fiery gleam within.
“You’d be mad because I was held back and couldn’t be in the same cohort.”
His sweet words clashed oddly with his tone, leaving Iris speechless.
Indeed, if they had met in the past, she would have had a stronger reason to be by Cedric’s side longer.
And—
Perhaps a happier ending could have been drawn than the future she now knew.
That thought gave Iris a fragile spark of courage.
“I wish I had advanced grades sooner, too.”
Since the past could not be changed anyway, she thought she could at least say it.
Cedric smiled languidly at her words.
“Advanced grades, huh. What for?”
When Iris didn’t answer, he rose from his seat. Approaching her, he leaned in closer just as—
“Mistress!”
Startled by Vincent’s voice from afar, both ducked beneath the desk.
Why am I even thinking this?
After all, her academy uniform had already been discovered.
But when Cedric placed a finger to his lips, signaling silence, she chose to stay quiet.
As Vincent’s footsteps neared, Iris, holding still, didn’t understand why sudden courage had welled within her.
“I… I’m doing this.”
Her voice was barely audible.
Before Cedric could turn to ask her to repeat, Iris closed her eyes tightly and pressed her face against his cheek.
Smack.
A slightly awkward sound, lips meeting lips.
Though Cedric had been the one kissed, Iris’s face turned pale.
It made sense—he aimed for her cheek, not her lips.
“I-I meant… my cheek—”
Forgetting they were still hiding, Iris hurriedly pointed to her own cheek.
That’s the spot, that’s what I wanted. Really.
Cedric let out a soft chuckle at her earnest protest.
He gently cupped the cheek she jabbed at.
“To a precocious one like me, that’s not quite enough.”
His teasing words tingled strangely. Wrapping his hand over her cheek, Iris’s sky-blue eyes flickered with a faint glow.
“Is that so?”
“Want to know? About those impure relations.”
Iris bit her lip firmly.
Cedric smirked and traced her lip line with his thumb.
Perhaps it was because they were so close, or maybe the shock that his own school days had been truly empty.
Iris decided to break the rules just this once.
She parted her lips, and Cedric’s finger brushed inside.
“Does being precocious mean you know much about impure relations?”
Cedric’s smile vanished at those words.
Iris closed her eyes, and Cedric responded with a kiss.
Pressing lips together and sharing breath—she hadn’t realized such an act could stir both yearning and oblivion at once.
When had her hands slipped around Cedric’s nape?
“Haa—
cough!
”
Just as Iris caught her breath, a harsh cough escaped her.
Cedric gently wiped the tear lingering on her lush lashes and asked with warmth,
“Are you alright?”
“I-I’m fine. But why the formal tone this time…?”
“We’ve now entered an impure relationship in a mature way.”
At those words, Iris couldn’t help but lightly swat Cedric’s shoulder.
Really, this man!
Though she saw it as mere teasing and smiled playfully, she might have scolded him—if not for the noises coming from behind the desk.
“Ahem—!”
Suddenly, a deep cough echoed, startling Iris as she rose but bumped her head with a thud.
Cedric quickly caught her, concern in his voice.
“Are you alright, Mistress?”
“Please, say nothing. Just… don’t.”
How had they not noticed? Had they truly forgotten someone’s arrival as they stepped into the first stage of an impure bond?
Iris realized the embarrassment she’d felt all day was an illusion. At this very moment, she wished to melt away entirely.
Wait. If that’s so…
She looked up at Cedric.
You knew all along, didn’t you?
Her sky-blue eyes silently demanded an answer.
Cedric carefully brushed aside a stray lock of hair from his wife’s temple, avoiding her gaze.
Again, Iris smacked his shoulder.
The repeated thuds were met with Vincent’s quiet remark as he slipped away.
“Please… inform me once it’s over.”
The steward silently resolved to deduct the anger from Cedric’s private assets.
By the way…
He wondered if it was alright for her to stay out this late, but kept it to himself—finding some satisfaction in seeing his troubled master receive a deserved scolding from his lady.
The Yordin Sect’s decline continued unabated.
The once-bustling manor of Baron Yordin now stood desolate.
Baron Yordin couldn’t believe the harsh reality.
Leontheim holds such power?
Being ostracized from cultivation society couldn’t have caused this alone.
It was clear Leontheim had manipulated matters behind the scenes.
All because of that one Camilla…!
He sent a letter expressing his intent to visit the Grand Duke’s house in a desperate bid to reverse their fate.
“Baron, no reply from Leontheim yet. No official rejection either.”
Normally, a rejection letter was part of proper etiquette—something to leverage in disputes or protests.
But Yordin, expelled from society, had nowhere to turn.
No one would spread the word on their behalf.
And even if they protested, no noble house would take their side.
“We’ve received word that Pavella Sect is pulling out of the joint project…”
“No deals can proceed in other branches until relations with Leontheim are restored…”
“I get it already!”
Staff shouted loudly, while Baron Yordin shook his head irritably.
“I’ll settle everything when I come next time. Just handle your own work!”
The timing was especially sensitive, as the Hellis Wheel crafted by Leontheim’s Grand Duchess was critical.
Trading sects relied heavily on these wheels to move their carriages.
If only that Hellis Wheel didn’t exist!
Perhaps then, the noble families wouldn’t have rejected them so decisively.
No, even if Camilla had skillfully manipulated the Grand Duchess, it might’ve been different.
With the Grand Duchess removed, the Yordin House could have risen further—perhaps even surpassed the Baron’s rank.
How did things go so disastrously wrong?
As someone who had quietly supported Camilla’s moves, Baron Yordin felt nothing but regret.
Snarling with fury, he strode toward his manor.
“Master, a guest is waiting in the mansion—”
“I know!”
Ignoring the butler’s words, he stormed ahead.
He had already summoned those estranged partners who hadn’t responded all day.
Daring to back out of the business we started together?
Thinking about punishing the betrayers, Baron Yordin flung open the door to the reception room.
“Acting all busy and now finally showing that arrogant face—!”
“Busy, huh.”
Leaning like a wolf, a sharp-eyed man stood with the twilight shadows behind him, radiating an unearthly calm.
“Th-That is to say…”
Baron Yordin blinked dumbfounded, raising his hand toward the unexpected visitor.
“L-Leontheim Duke Your Grace...?”
Cedric let out a sharp, cold chuckle as he eyed the Baron Yordin before him.
“I had thought you were quite at leisure, what with all those incessant bothersome letters you kept sending.”
“...Why have you come to my estate now...?”
Cedric took a slow step forward, his demeanor that of a beast savoring fresh prey, watching the startled Baron retreat involuntarily.
“Did you not summon me yourself?”
The chilling aura forced the Baron to instinctively step back into the hallway behind the door. Cedric advanced toward him without haste.
“If you were busy, my apologies. I’m quite occupied myself, no less than you.”
“I... I apologize. The reason I called upon Your Grace is...”
“I have no interest in your reasons.”
Cedric’s hand casually gripped the parlor door the Baron had just closed.
Snap.
Creak—
Before the Baron could blink, the firmly closed door crashed down beside him.
Bang!
The door slammed into the far wall, cracking it as shards scattered like shattered aura fragments. Staring at the afterimage of the door’s violent fall, the Baron gaped in shock.
Cedric casually crushed the debris underfoot, then stood before the trembling Baron.
“You lack manners in receiving guests. That must be relearned.”
His crimson eyes, cold and imperious as a sovereign’s, twirled as he flexed his wrist.
“Ah, no matter how closely you claim royal bloodline, such conduct is unacceptable.”
Having smashed the door without hesitation, Cedric leaned against the wall nonchalantly, his face devoid of even the slightest smile now.
“Such conduct?”
“T-This... this is...”
The Baron, his legs weakening, collapsed and began to back away instinctively.
Camilla’s trembling warning suddenly echoed in his mind:
“Father, the Leontheim Duke is terrifying. Defying him could lead to disaster...”
He had dismissed it as childish nonsense. He had believed no matter the Duke’s rank, he would not act recklessly—especially not against a fellow noble.
Today... I might die.
He had placed his faith in the shield of nobility.
But his opponent mocked even that shield, as if all laws protecting the Baron were meaningless.
The Baron trembled, his hands on the floor.
“I apologize. I must have failed in properly educating my daughter...”
“Failed?”
Cedric struck the wall elegantly with his clenched fist. Though it looked like a light tap,
Bang!
The thick parlor wall cracked and splintered from the impact.
“I-I have failed greatly in her education...”
“Is that so? Anything else?”
Cedric nodded casually, unshaken, causing the Baron to flinch in fear.
“I have committed a grave offense against Leontheim. Such foolishness—”
Crunch—
This time, the sound was of bending metal, not breaking wood.
The Baron’s eyes widened in disbelief. The opposite door, massive and twice his size, was crushed in one hand.
“Continue.”
Cedric motioned without expression, standing amid the wreckage of both doors.
“This air is stale. Might as well let some fresh wind through.”
His long, straight fingers pointed toward the ornate pillars lining the walls.
“Since we’re at it, might as well bring those pillars down. Everything will collapse, and the place will be ventilated nicely.”
Ignoring the Baron’s protests entirely, Cedric spoke with utter indifference.
“Ah, my apologies. You’re an old man with little patience. Allow me to do it instead.”
“My daughter’s reckless actions caused a grievous offense.”
“And?”
“I apologize. I do not know how to make amends for this; even with my life, I cannot repay—”
The Baron flinched, gauging Cedric’s reaction. This man might truly take his life as compensation.
“Are you truly that remorseful?”
Cedric’s rebellious smile showed as he brushed back his hair.
The image resembled the royal scion, the late Crown Prince who died under mysterious circumstances—a fierce wolf of the snowy wilds.
“That is the right attitude for a parent.”
The Baron gazed at Cedric with eyes full of terror, unable to look away.
“Hmm. Compensation, you say...”
Cedric folded his arms thoughtfully.
“Do you think someone like you could pay reparations?”
His crimson gaze swept over the estate with a chilling intensity.
“Even the Leontheim Duke should not behave thus.”
Cornered, the Baron lowered his gaze and cried out,
“The great Emperor Ludwig will not remain idle—!”
He invoked the Emperor’s name, hoping to wield it as a threat, since the Emperor despised the Duke.
“Oh? Is that so?” Cedric raised one eyebrow and placed his right hand on his waist.
“Would you rather go tell that great bastard yourself, or…”
Slash!
A deep scar was drawn across the floor just in front of Baron Yordin’s fingers.
“Would it be quicker for your life to end here?”
The baron gasped, clutching his hand protectively.
“I-I am a noble of the Empire, under His Majesty’s protection. If His Majesty hears this news—”
“You won’t live to see that spectacle.”
Cedric raised his sword, and the baron immediately submitted in fear.
“Ahhh… I-I was wrong!”
Tears streamed down his face from instinctive terror, but Cedric showed no mercy—lightly tapping the back of the baron’s hand with the flat of his blade.
“Do you think I came here to accept a mere apology?”
“N-No, of course not. It’s just that…”
Then what? What does he want?
“Money…?”
“Do you wish to die?”
The words were cruel but honest. Cedric was already full of intent to kill the baron—only shallow doubts remained, none of which were for the baron’s sake.
She’ll surely hear this. I don’t want Iris, the good wife, to be saddened by such filthy news.
“You’ll have the honor of seeing His Majesty’s wrath because of you—your daughter too.”
Cedric’s mocking voice made the baron tremble violently.
Even a five-year-old could understand that meant death.
The Yordin clan was nothing more than a nouveau riche merchant house that had risen by luck.
For the baron to protect his honor with death was nothing but nonsense—this was a senseless demise.
“Please, I was wrong! Truly! I will make sure this never happens again!”
He knelt and bowed deeply. Cedric had seen this countless times before and was utterly fed up.
Whenever Camilla’s anger lit a fire in him during academy days, they repeated the same “I won’t do it again” routine.
“You and your daughter need to study again. Seems you don’t understand the meaning of ‘again.’”
In the past, Ludwig would have found an excuse to pick a fight over this, but he was too annoyed and stepped back.
This time, though, they’d crossed a line not to be touched.
Iris was Cedric’s untouchable domain.
With a swift slash, Cedric cut off the signet ring on the baron’s hand.
Sharp sword energy ripped through the room, shredding the luxurious tapestries.
“Ugh—!”
Terrified, Baron Yordin curled up, trembling as he groped his body for injuries.
There were none.
Exhaling deeply, his eyes widened in horror at his side.
“Gah!”
The noble ancestor statues displayed in his house had been neatly decapitated, rolling across the floor.
“This is not a warning.”
Cedric threw his sword aside arrogantly as the baron panted in fear.
“It’s a threat.”
Though the sword lay before him, the baron could not charge—it would mean death, this time for real.
“Let’s see if next time it will be a stone—or a man.”
Cedric vanished from sight, leaving the baron sitting there tearfully, unable to move.
After that day, an astonishing rumor spread through the cultivation society.
“They say the Yordin Sect has utterly collapsed. How could it fall so fast?”
“Is that the problem? Even other houses got swept up in that storm…”
The angry Grand Duke of Leontheim had punished each implicated house one by one.
As a result, Camilla and other noble ladies suffered punishments—hair cut short and indefinite confinement.
Chapter 49