CHAPTER 79: THE RUNAWAY OF EL ZANCROFT

Cassel — POV

"Boss... we’re very sorry. We couldn’t stop young master Cecil."

Everyone stood in a rigid, perfectly straight line, their backs tense, their shoulders stiff, their expressions carved from stone. Shame clung to them like a suffocating fog.

Not a single one of them dared raise their head to meet my eyes.

This was the scene that welcomed us the very second we stepped into the villa.

With Rosalia sleeping peacefully in my arms, her soft breaths brushing my collarbone, I swept my gaze across them.

My silence alone was enough to silence whatever courage they had left.

Only after I gently carried Rosalia to her room—laying her on the bed with care I rarely showed anyone—and pulled the blanket over her, did I turn and head to the living room where everyone had gathered.

The atmosphere was so heavy it felt like the whole house was sinking.

"What happened?" Henry asked finally, unable to hold back when he saw me entering.

His voice cracked the tension, but only barely. No one responded. Their guilt filled every corner of the room.

Then someone moved.

Joe.

For the first time since I’d known him, he stepped forward voluntarily.

Joe was the quietest man in the entire villa. He never spoke unless directly addressed. He followed orders without question, moved like a shadow, and blended so well into the background that people forgot he was there.

For this silent man to step out on his own... the severity of the situation practically screamed through the air.

In his rough, low monotone—emotionless as always—he began to speak:

"Boss... this morning, right after you left, young master Cecil took your father and his men and emptied the entire basement storage—food, supplies, everything. Then they left. A few of our men joined them... along with the nurse."

He delivered the report with brutal brevity, then stepped back into the shadows as if he had never moved at all. His place in line closed around him, swallowing him back into silence.

Only then did Sebastian step forward, unable to contain the fury burning in his eyes.

"We tried to stop him," he said, voice trembling with anger, "but he threatened us using your name. And he has a superpower too—gravity manipulation. He overwhelmed us completely and took all the weapons, food, and every item he could grab... even things that weren’t worth stealing."

The disgust in his voice was sharp enough to cut.

Henry raised both eyebrows. "Oh? So that brat Cecil was actually that strong while pretending all this time to be lazy... tsk tsk."

He exhaled loudly, dropping onto the couch behind him as if this were nothing more than some mildly interesting gossip.

"But is that really all?" he asked, baffled. "Seriously, look at your faces. You all look like you’re about to attend a funeral. Isn’t this good? We got rid of those parasitic worms. And the ones who followed him—well, people say it’s better to know early who stands with you and who stands against you. At least now we’re not worried about being stabbed in the back later."

He spoke casually, utterly unbothered, as if stating the most logical conclusion in the world.

And surprisingly, Frederick—still massaging his temples from the headache he’d been nursing—let out a cheerful laugh.

"Oh dear, this is wonderful news," he said brightly. "We should celebrate—finally, that spoiled brat is gone!"

But Henry and Frederick’s reactions only deepened the confusion in the room. Several men exchanged glances before one finally spoke.

"Sir Vice-Captain," he said hesitantly, "they brought people from General James’ unit—the same group we refused to join before. They barged in saying Cecil is the boss and that he called them to collect tribute so he could join them."

Another man added bitterly: "They acted like they didn’t even know who the real leader was. Mocking us, insulting you, pretending Cecil was the one in charge."

"Yes," another chimed in, jaw clenched. "They even smirked while carting away everything, acting like we were beneath them."

Henry stared blankly for a moment, as though trying to understand how such stupidity could exist. Frederick looked amused.

Of course, both of them knew about my spatial ability—knew that everything of true value had already been taken and stored safely.

Whatever Cecil managed to steal was nothing but scraps.

Trash.

I had known for a long time that those people wouldn’t stay.

They were the type who only recognized comfort, not loyalty; the kind who believed they deserved luxury simply by existing. Even after I showed them reality—showed them where they truly stood—they refused to face it and instead grew worse.

Worse than subordinates.

Worse than leeches.

Worse than dead weight.

They were liabilities.

And once Mary’s greed had fully awakened, their departure had been inevitable. Honestly, they lasted longer than I expected.

Luckily, we had emptied and reorganized the basement long before this ever happened.

They left with piles of useless junk, thinking they’d robbed us blind.

Let them think so.

Let them enjoy their hollow victory.

Because from this moment on, their real suffering begins.

Your hell has officially begun, Zancroft family.

A sharp, satisfied smile curved my lips as I imagined the future awaiting them—a future built from the consequences of their own stupidity.

I would gladly watch every second of their downfall.

And when the day comes that they crawl back to me, kneeling, begging for mercy...

Well.

I’ll make sure they learn what true despair tastes like.

My gaze swept back to my men—dark, heavy, and burdened by guilt.

They thought they had failed me.

They thought losing a few traitors and some worthless supplies was a disaster.

But this?

This was merely the world helping me take out the trash for me.

I turned slightly toward Henry.

"Tell them," I said quietly before heading for the stairs.

The moment I took the first step upward, I caught Henry’s expression twisting—relaxed confusion morphing into pure, sharp anger.

And without another word, I continued walking, leaving the heavy silence of the room behind me.