CHAPTER 180: CRY SERAPHINA, CRY!

The silence after Elyria’s words seemed to devour the room whole. Even the ticking clock from earlier had gone still, as if time itself was stunned.

Auren blinked, his lips parting slightly.

"Duke Draven?" he repeated under his breath. The name rolled out slowly, as though he needed to hear it to believe it.

He stared at Rin, whose calm expression didn’t match the tension filling the air. His gaze shifted between Elyria and Rin... mother and son... and realization struck him like lightning.

He suddenly remembered Rhys Edward Draven.

Rhys was the second Duke of the Elarion kingdom. He had died nearly three decades ago in a fire. The man was known for his knowledge and cold demeanor and mysterious past. And now, standing before him was Edward’s son.

Rin Draven.

The boy he’d wanted to adopt.

The Marquess leaned back slightly, letting out a long breath.

"So that’s it," he murmured. "All this time... Rhys Draven’s son was right in front of me, and I..." He stopped, pressing his hand against his forehead as a quiet laugh escaped him. "How foolish I’ve been."

Rin raised an eyebrow.

"It’s fine. You didn’t know so it’s not your fault."

Auren shook his head slowly, his voice quiet but sincere.

"Still, I should’ve recognized it. The hair, the way you carry yourself... it all makes sense now. You’re your father’s son."

Rin didn’t answer. His lips curved faintly, but his eyes were unreadable.

"You flatter me, my lord. Anyway, I’m not him. And I don’t intend to be."

Auren gave a short, thoughtful hum.

"Then that’s why you hide who you are? Your identity,"

Rin’s gaze sharpened slightly.

Elyria’s calm voice broke the tension.

"It’s not hiding," she said simply. "It’s choosing peace over politics. My son wants no part in noble life. We prefer quiet days to gilded cages."

The Marquess studied her, then nodded slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes.

"I guess you’re right. It’s not my place to pry. Forgive me, Elyria. I’ve spoken too much."

Elyria’s lips softened into a polite smile. "No... It’s fine."

He looked at Rin again, his expression gentler this time.

"You don’t have to accept anything from me, Rin. But if you ever need anything... support, protection, or even a listening ear... don’t hesitate to come to me. You’ll always be welcome in my home."

"I see..." Rin returned the smile. "I’ll remember that."

The air lightened slightly, and Rin, always quick to shift topics, tilted his head.

"Would you still like that tour, my lord?"

Auren blinked, caught off guard. "Oh, I don’t think..."

"My mother could walk with you," Rin interrupted with the smallest, mischievous grin.

The Marquess’s eyes widened a little, betraying surprise and perhaps something else... nostalgia. "If she doesn’t mind," he said quickly, almost too quickly.

Elyria’s expression was blank, neither refusing nor agreeing. Rin turned to her with a playful shrug.

"It might be good to stretch your legs, Mother. Even if it’s not everywhere around the brothel, you can just show him a few places."

After a pause, she sighed.

"Very well then, follow me,"

She stood, graceful as ever, and Auren rose with her, his hand brushing his coat nervously. Rin stepped aside and bowed slightly, masking his smirk. "Enjoy your tour."

As the door closed behind them, the silence that followed was heavy again... but different this time.

Rin turned slowly toward Seraphina.

She sat rigidly, hands clenched on her lap, eyes fixed on the now-empty doorway. He could practically see the storm brewing under her calm mask.

He broke it first.

"So," he said casually, "do you want more caramel tea? Or..." he eyed her untouched cup..."you haven’t drunk that one because you think I poisoned it?"

Her head snapped toward him, her blue eyes blazing.

She stood abruptly, her heels clicking against the marble floor as she crossed the space between them.

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

Rin didn’t move.

"Right now? I’m just a commoner who makes good tea."

"Don’t mock me!" she shouted, shoving his chest hard.

Rin staggered slightly, caught off guard, but his smirk didn’t fade.

She shoved him again, each word punctuated by another push.

"You think you could become my brother?"

Shove!

"In your dreams! You and your pathetic and miserable little family..."

Shove!

"...will always stay where you belong. Below us!"

The last shove forced Rin’s back against the wall with a dull thud.

He stayed still. His smile vanished as his eyes turned cold.

There was a moment... just a breath... where neither of them spoke. Then Rin slowly lifted his gaze to meet hers.

"...Miserable family, huh?" he said quietly.

Seraphina sneered.

"Yes. That’s what you are. Filthy commoners pretending to be something you’re not."

Rin’s jaw tightened. For a brief, dangerous second, he imagined how easy it would be to shut her up permanently. Just stabbing her one hundred and fifteen times would do the trick. But he wasn’t going to stain his mother’s floor with blood... not for someone like her.

Instead, he chuckled softly.

"You really shouldn’t talk about things you don’t understand, Lady Seraphina."

"Don’t you dare talk down to me!"

"I’m not." He unfolded his arms and stepped forward, his shadow falling over her. "I’m just reminding you what my mother said."

Her expression faltered slightly.

"W–what?"

"About me being the next Duke." He leaned closer until his breath brushed her ear. "It’s not because I can’t take the title... it’s because I don’t want the attention."

Her breath hitched, and before she could step back, he caught her shoulders and turned her sharply, pressing her back against the wall instead.

Seraphina gasped, her eyes wide.

Rin’s voice dropped low, his words calm but biting.

"Don’t make me accept that title because of you. If I do, I’ll make sure your life becomes hell."

He tilted his head slightly, smirking.

"You think I’d want to be your brother? I’d rather have a pig as a sibling."

Seraphina’s face flushed red. "You..."

"What?" Rin interrupted, his tone light. "Are you going to cry?"

Her lips trembled. "You’ll regret saying that!"

"I doubt it," he said simply. "You’re too easy to provoke."

Her hands balled into fists, trembling with frustration.

"You’re... You’re cruel! Lucien doesn’t deserve you!"

"Maybe," Rin said with a careless shrug, stepping back. "But at least I’m honest. Also, you didn’t have to bring my lover into the discussion,"

He turned away as she stood there, shaking, her pride shattered.

Tears burned her eyes before she finally snapped.

"You’ll pay for this, Rin Draven! I’ll make sure of it!"

He didn’t look back.

"Get in line, sweetheart. You’re not the first one to say that."

Her throat tightened with anger. "I hate you!"

"Good," Rin said softly. "Hatred suits you better than jealousy."

That was the last straw. She turned and stormed out, the door slamming hard behind her.

Rin exhaled and rubbed his temple. "Finally."

He walked over to her abandoned seat and picked up her cup. The tea had gone cold.

He smiled faintly, channeled mana into the cup until steam rose again, and took a sip.

"Ah," he muttered, smirking, "too sweet."