IFAHWIPUTML Chapter 22

A few days later.

"My lord, the search party has returned," Rohan reported.

Chayston stood up immediately at the news.

The team he'd sent days ago to investigate the road connecting Vernia to the capital was finally back. He rushed out of the mansion, eager to learn if they'd found even the smallest clue about his brother's death.

Stepping into the bright sunlight, he walked briskly forward until he spotted the search party approaching the estate. He quickened his pace to meet them.

"Your Grace," the search party members called out as they noticed him.

"How is it?" Chayston didn't bother with pleasantries. He got straight to the point.

"We apologize, my lord. Our condolences," Commander Shane said, bowing his head.

The search team bowed deeply, ashamed of their failure. They'd found nothing—not even the smallest piece of evidence.

They'd spent days meticulously investigating the accident scene and surrounding area, but came up empty.

There was something deeply unsettling about the whole thing. It didn't seem like a simple accident. Yet despite the Halos family's investigative prowess and information network, they'd turned up nothing concrete.

Whoever had done this had planned it carefully and discretely—so carefully that they'd evaded even the Halos family's reach.

"You worked hard," Chayston said simply. There was no point in scolding them; that would only demoralize the team further.

But the bitter taste in his mouth was unavoidable.

"Should we expand the search area and investigate further? Shall I dispatch new units immediately?" Shane asked.

"No. Let the team rest and recover until you receive new orders," Chayston commanded.

He was giving the search party time to take leave and regroup.

There's a saying: the more hurried you are, the more you need to take the long way around.

This case was clearly going to take time. But if he kept searching without giving up, eventually something would surface—some small detail.

He couldn't afford to stop.

Whoever had done this to his brother—he'd make sure they died slow. Painfully slow. More painful than mere death deserved.

With his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles whitened, Chayston accepted the leash from a late-arriving team member.

"Worden."

The moment the dog saw him, Worden's tail began wagging furiously.

"Did you do well out there?"

"Woof! Woof!"

Worden rubbed his fluffy face against Chayston's leg, expressing his joy. He seemed to be having such a good time that he flopped right down and showed his belly.

"Worden, you worked hard," Chayston said, smiling—a completely genuine smile that never appeared when he dealt with people.

Worden was a bloodhound that Chayston and his brother had raised together for the past six years. Given his excellent sense of smell, he'd been useful in the search and had just returned.

Chayston petted him endlessly, clearly not tired of it. Worden kept asking for more affection with shameless adoration, and Chayston found himself genuinely laughing—something that surprised him.

"Tell the kitchen chef to prepare Worden's special meal," he instructed.

"Understood, sir."

He straightened from the crouch.

"Worden, wait here."

Leaving Worden under the shade of a cool tree, Chayston headed back to the mansion.

He could have brought Worden inside with him, but he worried the child might be startled by the dog's size, so he was being considerate in his own way.

The moment he stepped into the dining room, he stopped short.

Verasielle and Raphel were sitting at the table.

It had been so long since anyone had used this room besides himself. No one else in this mansion ate here. Ever.

"That's good! Look, you're eating the carrots now!"

Verasielle's voice cut through the quiet—warm and pleased.

She was smiling brightly as she stroked Raphel's head.

Chayston found he couldn't bring himself to join them. It felt like intruding on a family's intimate moment.

He turned to leave.

If Raphel had shown even the slightest discomfort, he'd have separated them without hesitation. But the child's face glowed with a smile so clear it seemed to catch the sunlight itself—a transparent smile born from complete trust and belief in the person before him.

"Your Grace."

He couldn't leave and couldn't stay, frozen mid-step. Verasielle had called out to him.

"Will you join us for dinner?" she asked casually, having noticed him standing in the doorway. She'd come downstairs to the dining room specifically because the room felt stuffy, and had been eating with Raphel.

"No."

But before he could say anything else, the kitchen chef came bustling out.

"Your Grace! The raw chicken you requested is ready. Shall I bring it out?"

"..."

"..."

Silence fell over the dining room like a dropped stone.

Verasielle stared at him, her mouth falling open.

Raw chicken? That's... quite the unique preference...

She almost dropped her fork in shock, but quickly gripped it instead and stood abruptly.

"Well, um... we've actually finished eating already."

She assumed he wanted privacy for his meal and was clearly trying to make a graceful exit. She'd only managed a couple bites while attending to Raphel anyway, so she could always snack later to fill up properly.

What Verasielle didn't realize was that Chayston was watching the barely-touched food on her plate.

When he'd entered the dining room, she'd been focused entirely on Raphel's meal. So she hadn't eaten properly at all?

For some reason, the thought of driving her away bothered him.

"No. Please, finish your meal," Chayston said, stopping her.

He didn't want to be the kind of petty, inhospitable host who'd chase a guest from their food.

"Really, I'm done," Verasielle insisted, lifting Raphel from his chair.

"Let's play! Now! Now!" Raphel squealed with delight, scrambling out of the dining room.

"Raphel! Don't run! You'll fall!"

Veras called after him, quickly bowing to Chayston before chasing the child down.

Chayston stood alone in the dining room, staring blankly after them.

"Your Grace?"

The kitchen chef had returned with a bowl of raw chicken, looking confused by Chayston's strange smile.

"Go ahead."

Once the chef left, Chayston remained in the dining room by himself.

The quiet returned. The familiar emptiness.

He was used to eating alone—most of the time he took his meals in his office. On rare occasions like this, when he actually dined in the room, he'd had to contend with his father. Without fail, those dinners ended in baseless insults and violence.

Eating had always been a solitary activity for him.

The sight of people dining together in this mansion—something that had just happened moments ago—was profoundly unfamiliar to him.

An empty dining room.

Solitude and quiet.

This was his world. His normal.

So why did it feel different now...?

"Actually, Your Grace," a voice broke through his thoughts again.

Chayston turned slowly to face whoever had spoken.

There was Verasielle, peering around the archway with just her face showing.

"Yes?"

Her clear, green eyes held his gaze completely.

"Raw food isn't very good for you. You could get food poisoning," she said, genuinely concerned as she looked at him.

"What are you—"

"You need to live a long time. For Raphel's sake," she continued matter-of-factly, as though she'd made her point perfectly. Satisfied that she'd said what needed saying, she turned and disappeared from his line of sight without hesitation.

Chayston stood frozen, staring at the empty archway.

Then he laughed. Haha.

Of course. She'd thought the raw chicken was for him to eat.

It was ridiculous. And somehow, even as he realized her mistake, he found her concern—and her misplaced worry—both hilarious and endearing.

The kitchen chef, returning with the bowl, found his lord genuinely laughing.

It was a smile that came from the heart. The chef had never seen it before.

Like a single pebble dropped into still water, ripples were beginning to spread across Chayston's quiet world.