Karen saw it.
The vortex of flames conjured by the magic sword. Enoch's figure ascending against that torrent, powerful enough to reduce a small building to ashes in an instant.
And she realized.
Over the past few years, watching the worthless descendants who merely carried Zahav blood, the expectations she had lost were now dwelling in her heart once more, beating alongside it.
The hope that Enoch could revive House Zahav, which was on the verge of collapse, had turned into conviction.
Enoch liked that Karen, unlike others, didn't make a fuss. But in truth, Karen held greater expectations for Enoch than anyone else.
She simply didn't know how to express it, so she showed it in the most familiar way.
'Even if Young Master Enoch makes a mistake at the succession ceremony, no one would say anything... but it's still better to help him save face.'
Thus, she helped him fill in the gaps in etiquette and refinement.
That was Karen's idea of proper loyalty.
'But something feels a bit off.'
Perhaps because the battle luckily ended before sunset, Enoch's wounds had healed remarkably quickly compared to their severity.
The priest who treated him, Karen herself who watched closely, and a few others with sharp eyes—they all must have noticed.
The reason they let it slide was simple.
Because Enoch wanted it that way. And it was quite common to be dazed for a while after a life-or-death battle.
Sitting in a scenic spot, having a maid fetch snacks to munch on—that was an adorably minor level.
Among Enoch's now-deceased brothers, some had vented stress in far more frown-inducing ways.
What gave Karen a sense of unease was something entirely different.
'He certainly seemed to have high expectations for his studies, at least when it came to reading and writing...'
But these past few days, Enoch showed no interest in studying letters. He hadn't even asked Karen to read something to him during his free time.
Nor was he just playing around aimlessly.
On the wide-open terrace. At a glance, it looked like he was simply relaxing in a beautiful view, but Karen, watching closely, knew better.
What Enoch truly wanted to see was the landscape beyond—the people of Zahav's territory, the people he had protected, rising again even after some lost homes and others lost family.
...In truth, he was just memorizing the outer geography to scout escape routes, but that's how it appeared in Karen's eyes.
Another peculiarity: for some reason, he was prying off the gem decorations from his bed and squirreling them away like preparations for winter.
This was surely a family trait of House Zahav, which loved violence, women, and gold.
It wasn't stealing from others; stashing gems from his own bed was utterly cute.
Yes. Astonishingly! Truly astonishingly!
Karen thought Enoch was a bit cute. Perhaps because she had watched the "Zahav Despair Edition" for so long.
She couldn't help but view favorably an Enoch who didn't beat anyone to death in a fit of rage, hunt married women, or purge families just to claim their heirlooms.
The simplest sign that one views another person favorably is finding whatever they do cute.
That was exactly how Karen treated Enoch.
Thus, as an Enoch enthusiast(?), Karen found the current situation even harder to understand.
'No matter how I think about it, I can't figure out why he's seemed so listless lately.'
A skilled butler should intuitively grasp their master's inner thoughts and cater to them. But unable to even discern Enoch's intentions, Karen couldn't help feeling anxious.
That was why she had recommended intensive reading lessons.
Enoch had eagerly pursued them due to memories from his past life, where illiteracy was unthinkable in this era.
But in Karen's eyes, it looked like a rare thirst for knowledge in House Zahav.
Whether it was truly a thirst for knowledge or not, a desire was a desire. And House Zahav was a bloodline more honest with its desires than any other.
Karen had no doubt Enoch would regain his energy before tiring of the studies.
After all, hadn't he even kept the bandages wrapped for his feigned illness yesterday?
The corners of Karen's mouth lifted faintly—a subtle smile that only Aaron, who had raised her since childhood, or Enoch, who had observed her half out of stubbornness, might notice.
With that faint yet distinct smile on her lips, Karen knocked on Enoch's door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
"Young Master Enoch. It's Karen."
...
No response from inside. Thinking he might still be asleep, Karen knocked twice more.
But with still no reaction, she pulled a small key from her pocket.
A master key said to be possessed only by the patriarch of House Zahav and the direct line of House Kesef.
An all-purpose key that could open any door in the mansion except special places like the Safety Room. It was one of the privileges granted to House Kesef.
Click.
The key slid in smoothly, emitting a crisp metallic sound as it disengaged the lock.
And the scene revealed inside.
No signs of a drunken all-nighter smashing furniture, no lingering strange odors from calling in multiple women for debauchery.
Just traces of daily life and Enoch's scent here and there, overall a calm and tidy atmosphere.
Curiously, Enoch seemed to dislike the monster trophies on the walls—but surely only because they weren't ones he hunted himself.
Regrettably, the previous Orc Warlord's head was smashed, but the Flamberge used at the end remained intact.
'If I hang that up instead, the young master would like it.'
Harboring a thought that would make Enoch gasp in horror, Karen stepped deeper inside.
Her eyes caught sight of a rounded lump under the blankets.
Enoch acted as if he feared nothing in the world when awake, but when sleeping, he had the habit of rolling himself tightly in the blankets and curling up.
A remnant from his childhood days confined in a narrow iron cage as a test subject...
Unaware of this, Karen quite liked the habit. It was a bit cat-like and cute.
...To reiterate, Karen's standards were extremely low due to the excessive "Zahav Despair Edition."
She would inwardly swell with pride if Enoch merely cut his meat with knife and fork instead of eating it with his hands.
Masking such sentiments that would horrify Enoch with her expressionless face, Karen stood before the bed.
She cautiously shook the blankets atop it and spoke.
"Please wake up, young master. It's already morning..."
With just a slight tug, the blankets sank in. Karen stared blankly for a moment, then grasped the situation and yanked them off entirely.
Whoosh!
The blankets fluttered and fell to the floor, finally revealing the empty bed.
Enoch was gone.
"Y-Young master?"
Instead, there was a letter left by Enoch.
He had wanted to write something like "Thanks for everything, let's never meet again," but having had no chance to learn this world's script, Enoch left a pictorial letter instead.
The problem was that his drawing skills were atrocious both in his past life and now.
"...?"
Karen tilted her head at the incomprehensible picture Enoch left behind... which, no matter how she looked, just seemed like figures standing side by side, waving cheerfully.
It would take her a bit more time to realize Enoch had gone missing(?).
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The dead of night, when all were asleep.
Clutching the gem decorations pilfered from his bed over time, he threw himself out the window.
Thud. Tap.
After quietly landing by stepping on nearby protrusions and rooftops, he carefully surveyed the surroundings.
Unlike from the terrace, it was hard to immediately tell where he was.
Still, it wasn't impossible. Hadn't he perfectly simulated it in his mind?
He just hadn't recognized it right away due to the darkness.
"Phew. Looks like this is the last night here."
Glancing up at the Zahav mansion one final time, he began to move.
Footsteps mimicking those of the assassins he had faced before.
Suppressing his presence, leaving almost no traces, following the path he had scouted in advance—how many times had he repeated this?
Now, all that remained was to pass through the short sewer and exit outside.
The moment he stepped inside, holding his breath against the stench.
Bzzz—
The gem in his pocket vibrated, emanating a strange heat.
"Huh?"
Before he could react, the world flipped upside down.
A bizarre sensation he'd never experienced. Barely regaining his senses while quelling his churning stomach, he realized the surroundings had changed.
A dark but ornate room decorated with lace and vases.
As he froze at the ticklish fragrance replacing the sewer stink, his floating body began to plummet. And then.
Splat.
His body landed on a soft bed. No, more precisely, atop the bed's original occupant.
"...Little brother?"
"Sister?"
Jevella, clad only in thin sleepwear, pinned beneath him.
Her pale purple eyes trembled violently.