Chapter 52

“Your Highness, what exactly do you plan to do?”

Enoch’s gaze remained glued to the door visible over Grondil’s shoulder as he spoke. On a face that rarely betrayed emotion, a faint trace of apprehension finally surfaced.

“Enoch, just who are you worrying about right now?” Grondil asked, his voice low.

“Well, obviously…”

“Obviously, he’s worried about Lino, isn’t he, Castillion?”

Erin cut in, slicing through Enoch’s hesitation. Enoch swallowed his unfinished sentence and frowned. While he didn’t necessarily dislike his younger sister’s free-spirited nature, he wished she would maintain some semblance of decorum before their lord. He called it a wish because Erin barely managed even the minimum required courtesy before her king.

Watching him with undisguised pity, Erin scoffed. “Brother, do you honestly believe a mere human could fully endure His Highness in his true form?”

“Erin, you—”

“Why are you looking at me like that? You don’t actually think I’ve seen Castillion’s… equipment personally, do you?”

Enoch fell silent, prompting Erin to click her tongue and treat her brother like a complete fool. “Shouldn’t the size be obvious just by looking at Castillion’s bestial form?”

“How can a woman’s mouth be so…”

“Enough. Stop it.”

The tedious bickering between the siblings—a routine that had spanned decades—was cut short by Grondil’s intervention. Still transformed and radiating the raw heat of the half-day he had spent ravaging Lino, his voice rumbled with a depth and roughness that surpassed even his usual predatory tone.

“Your Highness, what are your intentions?” Enoch repeated, still unable to shed his concern for Lino. In contrast, Erin seemed eager, leaning in to hear what Grondil would say.

“At first, I thought I might have been mistaken… but I confirmed it properly this time,” Grondil stated, his face etched with absolute certainty. Enoch and Erin both understood immediately what he had verified, though their reactions were polar opposites.

“Did a mark appear on Sir Cliff? Is Sir Cliff the Letia who must go to the Empire?” Enoch’s brow furrowed, clearly displeased with the outcome.

“So my hypothesis was right!” Erin, on the other hand, sounded as if she were about to burst with joy. “You actually poked the womb inside that boy, didn’t you?”

“…A womb? Not a mark?”

“There you go again, showing off your lack of education. Stop swinging that sword for a second and read a book.”

Enoch bristled at Erin’s rebuke, but sensing that critical information had passed between his master and his sister, he waited for a proper explanation. Unlike his sister, he was a man who understood the value of patience.

“The divine mark on a Letia’s body is not on the surface of the skin, Enoch.”

“Then the womb Erin mentioned… you don’t mean it figuratively? There is literally a womb inside his belly?”

When Grondil nodded, Enoch looked back at the door to Lino’s bedroom. His previous worry was now overlaid with a profound sense of pity for the knight. However, that sentiment vanished quickly; now that the Letia’s identity was certain, there were logistical matters to attend to.

“But Castillion, if Lino is the Letia, shouldn’t he be sent to the Emperor?”

“I’ll be sending Sir Disson to the Emperor.”

“…Sir Disson? Didn’t you just say Sir Cliff is the Letia?”

“Why the fuck would I send the real Letia for that man’s benefit?” Grondil growled. “Besides, I’ve already claimed him. He’s mine.”

“But Sir Disson is a normal human male.”

The Emperor wanted a Letia specifically to sire an heir. He firmly believed that a Letia’s divine blessing could overcome even his own impotence, allowing him to father a child. Sending a regular human male wasn’t just a deception—it was a blatant refusal to even try to hide the trick. Grondil, of course, knew exactly what Enoch was worried about.

“The moment he arrives at the palace, they’ll strip him naked and check everything down to his balls for a mark.”

“And he doesn’t have one.”

“He doesn’t.”

“I’ll bet my restaurant that he’s found out within a single day,” Erin chimed in with a cackle. Enoch glared at her, wishing they could have a serious discussion, but even Grondil—the person who should have been the most serious—seemed amused by Erin’s wager.

“I’ll bet my golden goblet that I’ll be keeping him for life.”

“Whoa. Castillion’s golden goblet… you mean the Holy Grail from the temple?”

Erin’s eyes widened at the mention of one of the kingdom’s greatest treasures, but suspicion soon clouded her gaze. “You’ve already set a plan to deceive the Emperor, haven’t you?”

“Haha, of course. Even if he’s a sterile prick, he was raised as a crown prince from birth. He’s sharp and suspicious as hell. I have to pull some strings to ensure he doesn’t catch our tail.”

Leaning back comfortably against the sofa, Grondil smiled as he touched his lips. He was sitting exactly where Lino had spread his knees, and the lips he touched were the very ones Lino had groomed and licked. He had been touching his nose and mouth throughout the conversation; perhaps because Lino had been the first to touch those spots, he found himself consciously aware of them.

“Exactly how do you intend to fool the Emperor?” Enoch asked, unable to wait any longer as Grondil simply sat there touching his face.

“Why do you think the Divine specifically gave the Letia a womb as a mark?” Grondil countered his aide’s question with one of his own.

Erin provided the answer. “It likely means that even as a male, he must undergo the same process as a female to achieve pregnancy.”

“The gender is different, but the process is the same…?”

“Exactly. And the Emperor is a seedless watermelon,” Grondil laughed, sounding like a well-fed beast. Since the Emperor’s ‘seed’ lacked any vitality, he couldn’t get a woman pregnant—so no matter how blessed a Letia was, nothing would ever take root. You can’t grow something from nothing.

“What about the mark? If you’re sending Sir Disson, he’ll need to show a mark to prove he’s a Letia.”

“Since we can’t put a real womb in him, wouldn’t it suffice to insert something similar?”

“Something similar… something similar…” Enoch and Erin put their heads together, pondering the problem.

“Once it’s in, it shouldn’t be easy to remove,” Grondil explained. “Lino’s womb was soft yet elastic. It doesn’t have to be identical, but something with a similar texture should do.”

A gleam entered Erin’s eyes. Enoch also seemed to recall something and looked at her. With a flushed face, Erin began gesturing to describe her idea to Grondil. “A long time ago, my brother brought me a slime that had been frozen since ancient times from a northern cliff cave. It’s a colorless, odorless slime that isn’t exactly harmful, but it isn’t beneficial either.”

“I recall that report. You said it was a creature with no apparent purpose for living, right?”

“Yes. Despite being a monster, it has zero aggression and remains perfectly fine whether you put it in water, fire, or earth. It should be fine even inside a human body. It has a thin outer membrane, but if it’s pierced, it heals instantly. If it’s cut, it divides, and if you bring the pieces close together, they merge back into one.”

“What a bizarre…” Grondil trailed off before breaking into a wide, toothy grin. “Perhaps it was a gift from the Divine for this very day?”

Enoch and Erin couldn’t hide their smiles either.

The siblings had traveled across the Terne Continent with Grondil in search of the Letia; Enoch served as Grondil’s aide while Erin gathered intelligence by setting up various shops in every city they visited. Before coming to the Zetina Kingdom, Grondil had received word that a merchant group dealing in the black-market trade of beastkin—who were essentially the remnants of Isberg—had established a new base here. Dealing with those who tarnished Isberg’s reputation, even if the victims weren’t true beastkin, was part of the siblings’ duties.

Usually, they opened popular taverns, but in Zetina, they had opted for a modest, elegant restaurant. They chose a secluded location specifically to gather information from corrupt, high-ranking nobles. The first floor was a normal restaurant, while the second floor offered perfectly soundproofed meeting rooms. No matter how secluded, a place like that was bound to attract attention. It was the perfect haven for wealthy men with dirty secrets. Plus, the promise of never-before-seen desserts made it impossible for word not to spread.

Erin recalled a thin, aristocratic man who had visited the second floor late last night. While the rooms boasted perfect soundproofing for the guests, that didn’t apply to the owner. Every word spoken there was stored in Erin’s mind.

“Castillion, I heard something quite concerning yesterday.”

“What? If it’s not more important than getting that weird ancient slime immediately, tell me later.”

“It’s about Lino… or rather, Arno Neu Haklan.”

“…Why are you bringing up that name now?” The smile vanished from Grondil’s face in an instant, replaced by a cold intensity. He had been enjoying the thought of claiming Lino as his own and sending Yuneria to the impotent Emperor.

“Baron Haklan came to the restaurant yesterday.”

“Why was that man there?”

“On the surface, it was a gathering to foster artistic exchange while he was visiting Zetina for an academic discussion on ancient theology.”

Hah, as if. Grondil’s lip curled. A low, displeased growl vibrated deep in his throat. The siblings sitting across from him flinched at the beast’s threatening rumble.

“Who did he meet?”

“The Duchess of Disson.”

“Disson?” Grondil’s long tail began thumping against the sofa’s armrest. With every heavy strike, the upholstery groaned and finally cracked under the force. “What does that woman want?”

“Based on the conversation, they really did only discuss ancient theology, literature, art, and music. I’ve reviewed it several times, and there was nothing particularly strange. Still, because it’s Baron Haklan, it bothered me.”

“Summarize exactly what they talked about and report it. Right now.”

“Understood.”

“And prepare the slime while you’re at it.”

“Yes. I’ll take my leave now.” Erin gave a quick bow and exited the drawing room.

“Enoch, find out exactly why Baron Haklan came to Zetina. Put some people on the Duchess of Disson as well.”

“What about Sir Disson?”

“Just make sure that bastard doesn’t try anything with Lino’s food. He’ll be regretting his actions for the rest of his life soon enough.”

“I will do so.”

As Enoch left, the only sound remaining in the drawing room was the steady thumping of Grondil’s tail. Having finished off the armrest, his tail was now rhythmically hammering against the table. The fact that someone was targeting the first thing in his life he had ever truly wanted to possess was utterly infuriating. He had assigned the task to his most trusted subordinates, so he should have been able to rest easy, yet the irritation refused to fade, sticking to him like a thick slime and gnawing at his nerves.

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