The Hater Is Seeking The Truth

"Nothing."

With hands on my hips, I surveyed my room, now in an even worse mess than before. The last thirty minutes had been dedicated to scouring for clues about what Jykrain might be hiding, but alas, I found nothing. Not a single hint.

Not even a whisper of a clue.

I smirked lightly.

Then I was right.

It was even more suspicious that I found absolutely nothing—no records, no bills about his expenses. He probably eradicated all traces to conceal something or perhaps those bills never existed in the first place.

Why go through the trouble of erasing all evidence?

It must mean he was hiding something incredibly important, something he had to keep under wraps from his supposedly beloved family, as suggested by that Familial-Love Trait.

"Milord, I have—"

"Shush." I raised my hand, silencing Shana.

Leaning on a small shelf, I tapped my fingers rhythmically on it.

Something is off.

What am I missing?

"When did I start selling the Library?" I asked, glancing at Shana.

She held a box in her hands, contemplating for a moment before responding. "It could have been two years ago from today, Milord."

"Was I always like that? How was I before two years ago?" I threw another question at her.

Shana hesitated before shaking her head. "Milord was different. You were still in Asherante at that time, and you were really..."

"Really what? Spit it out, I don't care," I urged her.

Shana nodded. "Milord was loved by everyone before that."

I thought so.

Something might have happened that caused the change in his behavior.

"Has something happened to me or my family two years ago? Death? Disease? Any problems?" I asked.

Something related to his family might be the cause behind his weird behavior.

"No... Milord. Rather, the entire Starfrost Family was overjoyed after your mother's recovery," Shana replied, her smile lingering on her lips.

"Oh." I walked towards her, meeting her eyes. "Recovered from what?"

Shana's expression took on a peculiar look. "She had been sick for a year, Milord. You were always by her side, except when she recovered..."

"What kind of sickness? If it lasted a year, it must have been pretty serious, right?" I arched my brows, seeking more details. I wasn't even aware of that. 

"Yes," Shana nodded solemnly. "We thought it was incurable, but the House Doctor of the Starfrost Household found the treatment for the Duchess at last."

"Oh."

The doctor managed to save her eventually. But there was a 'but.'

He couldn't save her initially.

Jykrain had been a constant presence at his mother's side, but after her recovery, he distanced himself not just from her but from everyone else.

Why?

What puzzled me even more was why he resorted to selling things to gather money in the first place. My initial assumption was that he needed the funds to find a cure for his mother independently. However, the timeline didn't add up. If he had borrowed money to assist his mother's healing, it would make sense to clear the debt after her recovery. But that wasn't the case.

He was the son of a Duke, after all. Getting money shouldn't have been a challenge. If he had informed his father, the Duke, about the situation, the financial burden could have been easily lifted.

Moreover, the sudden revelation of a solution by the doctor seemed suspicious. It was as if a cure appeared out of thin air.

And then there was the most perplexing suspicious event—Jykrain's death.

He was killed, and the shocking revelation was that it wasn't a family member, as I initially thought, but someone else.

And that person might be linked to his mother's sickness. It suggested that the money Jykrain sought might have been a smokescreen to conceal a deeper truth.

"It wasn't that hard," I said with a smile as I opened the box held by Shana.

Inside was a beautiful brownish-gold revolver. I shook it sideways, opened the cylinder, and examined its six cartridges.

"It's the best I obtained, Milord. If you want, I can order another one—"

"No," I cut Shana off and took six bullets from the box, inserting them into the cartridges. Spinning the cylinder, I closed it, then walked toward the window, readying to aim.

"Milord—?"

"Would you shut up? You're noisy," I snapped, annoyed, and aimed at a sculpture of a lion fifty meters away.

-Bang!-

The bullet shot out at great speed, shattering the lion's head into pieces of rocks that exploded across the garden. Startled gardeners looked up at me, holding the revolver, then promptly scattered out of my line of sight.

"Looks like my personal aim, combined with my Rank 4 Vision, is enhancing my skill," I remarked, placing the gun on the shelf.

I removed and tossed my shirt at Shana's shocked face. "Get my room cleaned again. I'm taking a bath and call Hulk; tell him to prepare a car. I need to go somewhere."

"But, Milord, you've just recovered…Milady Nereia might come as soon as this evening to see you. She told us to take care—"

"You're talking too much, Shana, but I have my own priorities," I retorted, heading towards the bath.

I need to see this world with my own eyes.

†††

I stood before the grand estate, a formidable structure guarded by sentinels clad in blue armor adorned with a frozen flake emblem on their chest. The icy symbol marked them as the protectors of the Starfrost family.

"I don't need an escort. Just a driver and a guard will suffice," I declared, making my way into the waiting blue limousine.

"We can't do that, Young Master," Barin, aka Hulk, responded.

Closing the door and lowering the glass partition, I let my arm rest outside, the grip of my new revolver firm in my hand.

The knights, all in their icy blue armor, took a collective step back, except for Barin. There was a palpable lack of trust, and it was clear they weren't overly fond of me. Yet, they remained dutiful, following orders despite their reservations.

I stared at them, rhythmically tapping the revolver against the rear door. "I don't need an escort. Only you can suffice, or are you that weak that I can't even trust you?"

Barin met my gaze with conflicted eyes, sighing as he opened the rear door from the other side but I stopped him with a glance.

"No, the rear seat. Get on the front. Your body will take up the whole freaking limousine," I said, stretching out my legs on the seats.

Barin looked at me, nodding in compliance. I couldn't help but smirk.

"Quite the emotion-control; you must be quite used to such behavior," I commented, impressed. I knew I was insolent and few people on Earth could stomach that attitude of mine—you guessed it, only my family.

Seated beside the driver, Barin turned his head with a kind gaze. "It's my duty to protect the Heir of the esteemed Starfrost Dukedom."

I scoffed and reclined on the seat, crossing my arms under my head.

As I reflected, it dawned on me that he was right. In the novel, the heir was supposed to be Findlay Starfrost, Solana Starfrost's twin brother. But now I understand why. In Maestro's novel, Jykrain, the presumed heir, should have died today, and Findlay Von Starfrost, the Duke's second wife's son, became the heir.

Recalling my readings, I remembered that Nereia Starfrost, the first wife and Duchess, had struggled to conceive. The Duke had taken a second wife, Solana's mother, and they had twins, much to the Duchess's dismay.

Findlay, at two years old, was initially supposed to be the heir, but Lady Luck intervened when the Duchess became pregnant with Jykrain. Jykrain Starfrost was the legitimate and first son of the Duke with the Duchess, the rightful heir to the Starfrost legacy.

In retrospect, that Duke had quite the guts to essentially quarantine his heir. It must have taken some nerve, considering the potential repercussions it could have within his own house.

While the prospect of becoming the next Duke might seem appealing until I find a way back to Earth, I despised the idea of living thanks to someone else. This sentiment extended to money, clothes, and other things. I had been okay with depending on my parents because, well, they were my mum and dad. But my current circumstances didn't sit well with me.

I needed to be independent.

In this world, I could only trust myself.