Chapter 89 - Past

"Stephan."

Muchit's voice was laden with emotion.

But that was only for a moment.

"Since you're in a difficult situation, I'll understand as your older brother. Later, once you calm down, you better apologize for treating me like a murderer."

He spoke nicely as if trying to reason with him, but to Stephan, it was the same as being treated like a child.

"Don't make me laugh. Are you... are you saying I'm barking up the wrong tree right now?"

"Do you sincerely think this is my doing?"

"I already have proof. Look at this!"

Stephan pulled out the scarf he had been clutching in his hand.

The crest of the Pascal mercenary company caught Muchit's eye as well.

"I already know your methods! That dirty trick of yours where necessity creates demand! This happened right after I declared I would monopolize that trade route."

"Are you really believing the bullshit those merchant bastards spout?"

"It's not just one person. Everyone who signed a contract with you says the same thing, so how could I not point the finger at you!?"

Muchit pondered deeply after hearing those words.

"Right, maybe what happened to those guys was my doing."

Giving off the impression that he was readily admitting it, he tilted his head.

"But where is the proof that I interfered in your business?"

"Isn't it right here?"

"You mean this fancy scarf? Anyone can make as many of these as they want."

He fluttered the scarf before tossing it onto the table.

"There are ten thousand mercenaries registered with our company alone, and we have over two thousand of these scarves in stock. Anyone could have smuggled one out to make it look like our mercenary group did it. You're smarter than me, so how could you not think of this?"

"Could you say the same in an imperial court?!"

"Go to court? You want to go all out and destroy each other? You bastard, you really are pissed off. To think you'd drag your own family into court."

"Stop harping on about family. You only harp on about family when things are tough for you, but when it's time to eat, we're suddenly strangers, aren't we?!"

"Are you saying I only tried to fill my own belly? Hey, Stephan. I helped you out plenty when you were struggling too. I accommodated you and did everything I could, so what the fuck is the problem?"

"Haven't I been telling you since earlier? The problem is that the bandit bastards you lead killed my employees!"

"This bastard really keeps treating my employees like third-rate scum to the very—"

"Muchit Pascal."

Muchit, the veins in his neck bulging, tried to stand up from his seat.

When Ferda called his name, he realized Ferda had been watching and bowed his head to him.

"I apologize, Regent. We showed you an ugly side of our family affairs."

"I don't mind that. But I'm sorry, could we pause this conversation and have you step outside for a moment? I have something to discuss with Stephan."

"Of course. I will step away for a moment."

Muchit obediently bowed and left.

As soon as Muchit vacated his seat, Stephan pointed an accusatory finger at the empty spot and shouted.

"There is nothing to even look at. It's that bastard's doing."

His face was flushed beet red.

"Stephan."

"We need to grab him right now and interrogate him. Ask him if killing thirty-three people made him feel better."

"I wanted to, but seeing your state, I realized it wouldn't work."

"My state? What about my state?"

Ferda replied while giving him a sweeping glance with cold eyes.

"You're no different from a ghost thirsting for blood and revenge."

"Revenge. Isn't that what I'm doing all this for right now?"

"The problem is that it's a revenge unsuited for the present. Isn't the revenge you're trying to achieve right now dragging up grudges from your past?"

"I..."

He wanted to deny it, but Ferda's words allowed him to cool down a little.

"I suppose you're right. To be honest, I suffered a lot at my older brother's hands when I was young."

"Tell me."

"When I came home after getting beaten up somewhere, he would say he didn't like my lack of grit, and he'd grab a wooden sword and beat me half to death under the guise of training me."

Ferda could understand, even if only a little, how that felt.

Treated as an illegitimate child after his mother died, Ferda had suffered such harsh treatment countless times himself.

"And I was that... no. Let's stop this story."

"No. Don't do that."

Ferda stopped him from cutting off his lamentation.

"Let out all the anger you have toward Muchit right now."

"Excuse me? Why would I do that?"

"Because it will help."

"I don't think it will help much..."

"Then I will make it an order. Hurry up and curse the things he did and scream."

Stephan was flustered by Ferda's demand.

But in a situation where he had no choice, Stephan forced himself to spit out that name.

"Muchit... you... you... son... of a bitch..."

He started out stifled, but it didn't matter.

"You..."

Like a dam with a hole in it, the outpouring of emotions instantly became violent.

"You... dirty bastard!!!"

Stephan's eyes rolled back as he started screaming wildly.

"Damn it, that fucking bastard! He spent all this time praying for my downfall, and now he pulls this!? Did I look that easy to you!? Huh!?"

"..."

"I'll do the exact same to you! Just like you shattered my bones when I was young, I'll completely shatter yours too!"

Even after that, he raged on, screaming out a continuous string of past grudges.

After doing that for about ten minutes, Stephan's voice gave out.

"Keugh! Cough!"

"Have a drink."

"Cough, cough... thank you..."

Stephan sat down and drank the tea.

He slumped over like a man utterly drained of energy.

"Do you feel a little better?"

"Yes, thanks to you, Regent... I think I'll avoid dying of pent-up rage."

"Then your eyes must be a bit clearer now. Let's continue our conversation."

Stephan fixed his posture again, and Ferda said to him.

"To jump straight to the conclusion, it does not feel like Muchit Pascal's doing."

"... Excuse me?"

Hadn't he just been making a fuss, handing over the mercenary company's scarf and acting as if Muchit were the culprit just a moment ago?

But now he's saying it isn't him?

"Then why did you tell me to curse my brother?"

"It meant that you shouldn't be consumed by those grudges you hold. Weren't you constantly keeping things in your head that could cloud your reasoning?"

Ferda's words were dumbfounding, but on the other hand, he was right.

Had he ever cursed and screamed at the top of his lungs like that before?

When he was young, it was an everyday occurrence to shove his fist in his mouth and cry, and as an adult, the most he did was quietly sob while sipping alcohol hidden in the corner drawer of his desk.

But now, he was able to pour it out in a loud shout.

"You said signing a contract with the Pascal mercenary company was no different from making a deal with a demon, right?"

"Yes."

"Didn't you know that all along?"

"I did."

"Then you could have suspected your brother, Muchit Pascal, from the very beginning. But you never showed me that suspicion."

Ferda asked calmly.

"What is the reason you didn't?"

"The reason I didn't was because I was out of my mind at the time, and..."

"Is that the only reason? Just that you couldn't think of it?"

At Ferda's question, Stephan shook his head as well.

It surely wasn't just for that reason.

Stephan thought about it.

Why hadn't he suspected Muchit first when this happened?

'Muchit Pascal.'

Family and an enemy.

Since he was young, he had been unable to control his boiling hot-bloodedness.

Muchit utilized that temperament to become a mercenary captain.

He possessed charisma and leadership.

Having leadership meant knowing the weight of a heavy responsibility that street thugs lacked.

He tried to judge everything about him solely through data and facts, just as a merchant would analyze another business executive.

Then, the answer came out surprisingly clear.

"... The probability was low."

"The reason?"

"The rumor that my brother retaliates if you don't sign a contract with him... is honestly no different from a myth. It would be them digging their own graves. The truth is that the majority of them hired cheap mercenaries, entered dangerous areas, and met with disaster. They simply bought cheap junk and unfairly blamed others."

People only see what they want to see and believe what they want to believe.

Consumed by emotion, Stephan had missed even such a basic fact.

"So, my current opinion is that... that suspicion cannot be certain with just a single scarf."

Even after drawing this conclusion himself, Stephan couldn't believe it.

It had been Stephan who, just a few minutes ago, was certain it was his doing and thought of getting cruel revenge.

He had judged with emotion rather than reason, and blinded by those emotions, he couldn't see straight.

If Ferda hadn't helped him shake it off, he would have had to fight Muchit.

While Stephan was swallowing his feelings of emptiness, Ferda listened to his answer and spoke to Luri.

"Send Muchit Pascal back inside."

The waiting Muchit took his seat, making it a three-way face-to-face meeting once again.

Unlike earlier, when things were agitated with emotion and ready to explode, a calm atmosphere was now flowing.

"Muchit Pascal. I have finished my conversation with Stephan, but I need you to confirm it one last time."

"Speak, Regent."

"Can you swear that you are not involved in the attack that happened to Stephan this time?"

Ferda asked so coldly that it sent a chill down his spine.

Muchit held up his index finger and said.

"I have one principle. Just as my family is precious, others are precious as well. My employees and I take money and take up our swords to protect others. If we draw swords just to take money, wouldn't that make us no different from third-rate thugs and bandits?"

"Right, thank you."

Hearing Muchit's words, Ferda gestured toward the scarf placed on the table with his chin and said.

"If this scarf has nothing to do with the mercenary company's involvement, then it means someone was trying to drive a wedge between you two."

"Between me and my younger brother?"

Muchit's eyes widened fiercely.

As was evident on his face, he was genuinely furious.

"What kind of fearless bastard dared to touch my family?"

"I think I know who it is."

The now-calm Stephan replied.

"Who is it?"

"My sister, Tilda."

The name that came out of his mouth was that of another family member.

"On the surface, she acts as if the Dandolo trading company is enough for her, but she's a bitch who wants the Pascal trading company more than anyone else. She's been very persistently, yet covertly, getting in my way. Moreover, she is the only one who benefits from driving a wedge between me and my brother."

"Yeah, that bitch is definitely more than capable of this."

Muchit, who had a strong attachment to family, also agreed at the mention of his sister.

It was a strange thing.

"Isn't Tilda Pascal your family?"

"Don't even mention it. She's a bitch I can't even call family."

Muchit calmly replied, suppressing his boiling blood even as he was enraged.

"Do you know what she tried to do when my wife was pregnant with our first child? She sent my wife poison under the guise of congratulating her on the pregnancy. Fortunately, I was the one who unknowingly ate it and suffered, but if my wife had eaten it, she would have definitely miscarried. She was already an annoying sister without a single cute trait, but that time, she completely crossed the line."

The one who was surprised by those words was Stephan.

"Did something like that happen five years ago?"

"I wasn't completely sure, so I didn't tell anyone. Making a fuss would only have given that bitch what she wanted anyway."

To Stephan, who had thought Muchit's personality was one to flip everything over and rage while screaming for blood, it was like seeing a surprising hidden side of him.

"Anyway, she's an incompetent bitch with nothing but greed. Since she lacks the ability to succeed on her own, she's probably planning to swallow up our father's company after seducing the old bachelor Henri Dandolo to devour the Dandolo trading company."

Muchit tightly clenched a fist the size of a pot lid.

His veins bulged viciously.

"So what will you do, Regent?"

Muchit asked.

"We can flip her place right now and drag that bitch over here."

"Wouldn't that just make the mercenary company's image even worse?"

"You don't need to worry about that. If I can push that witch-like bitch onto the pyre, I don't care if I become a demon. If she laid a hand on family, she must pay the corresponding price."

A blazing, roaring anger.

As a mercenary who had rolled around on rough grounds, he knew well how to use anger as a source of vitality.

"You shouldn't do anything to directly harm her."

The one who said those words was Stephan.

"What? Stephan, are you an idiot?"

"Think about it. Wielding violence isn't good. The fact that she started something this malicious means her plan has clearly begun. In the worst-case scenario, the entire Pascal family could collapse."

"True..."

Since the two of them knew what kind of person Tilda was normally, they didn't need many words to persuade each other.

"When it comes to malice, she is extremely persistent. Until there is solid proof that this was Tilda's doing, we shouldn't carelessly mess with her."

"Then what should we do?"

Stephan forcefully calmed his wildly beating chest and said.

"For now, we'll act as if I'm leaving without clearing up this misunderstanding. We'll give the other side exactly what they want. If we do that, their plan will definitely proceed as scheduled."

"So you mean we use that to grab that bitch by the tail."

Muchit slapped his knee.

"Good. I'm in favor of that. Let's properly drag that bitch out into the open."

"Understood."

The two brothers, who had almost become mortal enemies, joined forces in the face of a common enemy.