Margaret Vanter, the mother of four children, the Earl’s lover, was watching the elves and Rat-men on the street with a scrutinizing gaze.
They did not look like thieves, after all, no member of the Thieves Guild would walk down a brightly lit avenue in a dress.
Out of curiosity, she watched them disappear behind her, and out of safety, she did not let her curiosity lead her astray, instead, sitting in her own carriage until she beheld her family’s mansion from afar.
She also saw her husband standing outside, smoking.
"Dear, what are you doing outside, isn’t it cold?" Stepping down from the stopped carriage, Margaret reached out to embrace her husband: "Our son didn’t mess up his presentation, did he?"
"No." Tossing his cigarette butt aside, her husband nodded.
Attributable to a woman’s intuition, Margaret sniffed her husband’s scent—there was no perfume that would imply the presence of a third person, she thought with a laugh, realizing that with age, one becomes insecure even about oneself.
With such sadness, Margaret glanced inside the door: "Then let’s go in."
"Yes, let’s go in." Having said that, her husband, holding her hand, led her into the mansion.
"Father! Mother!" Their own child stood there like a fool, and from the looks of it, his friends had already left, though there was one... Engma, that should be his name, a cute boy.
One’s own child wouldn’t develop any weird inclinations, right?
With such a self-directed question, Margaret noticed a silent communication between father and son. She glanced at her husband, then at her son: "Gentlemen, do you have something to say?"
"Indeed, dear, this is a conversation among men, would you please go back to your room first?" Surprisingly, her own husband responded to Margaret’s inquiry, and she looked at her son, who nodding seriously.
"All right." Though a woman’s curiosity is nothing unusual, out of respect for the master of the Vanter family and the future master, she nodded, then ascended the staircase to her bedroom.
At the moment of reaching the top, she turned her head and noticed that the present and future masters were watching her, and the somewhat embarrassed Countess smiled: "My child, did you have fun today?"
"Very happy, my friends were very happy too," her eldest son replied, smiling.
Of course, I, a mother, had to leave, so you little rascals would certainly enjoy a night of unfettered joy.
Thinking so, the Countess nodded and, without looking back, proceeded to the bedroom.
Margaret, don’t look back, because your makeup will run if you smile again...
"Father, did we track down the target?"
Hearing the voice from behind, Margaret turned around, and with a smile, addressed her eldest son: "It’s taken care of."
"Thank you, Father, we were nearly done for." Watching the man before him, his child smiled, filled with joy, filled with... the happiness of having survived a disaster.
Malin reached out and ruffled his eldest son’s head: "Alright, it’s late, you should send your friends away. Also, the next time you hold a meeting of some sort, make sure it’s arranged properly. I don’t want to hear the nobles of the entire city talking about you little scoundrels plotting something at the next court session...understood?"
After speaking, the boy walked his friend to the door.
Watching his eldest son walk further away, Malin pulled out a box of cigarettes from his pocket, his hands gradually beginning to tremble. Eventually, the shaking hands could no longer hold onto the cigarette box, causing it to fall to the ground.
Malin did not move but kept silent for a long while, then managed to steady his trembling hand, wanting to stoop down, but noticed his younger son, Ante, who was only six this year, picking up the cigarette box. He looked up, extending the cigarette box towards him: "Father."
Malin nodded, took the cigarette box, and patted the little one’s head: "Why aren’t you asleep?"
"It was too lively downstairs; I wanted to play, but my brother sent me up," the younger son said, sounding quite unhappy, and Malin sighed, patting the little boy’s head: "Alright, go to sleep now."
After sending the younger son upstairs, Malin glanced at the small hole in the floor.
The male head of the Vanter family once again reviewed everything he knew in his mind—first, Lady Anna had not ordered her Head Maid to arrest his eldest son; second, Lady Lena did not care about the conspiracies plotted by the Vanter family, even if it was an assassination attempt against Malin Gaston; third, neither Lady Anna nor Lady Lena seemed to care much when mentioning Malin.
These points almost led Malin to a conclusion, except that Lady Lena also mentioned something.
Your child and his friends would be torn to pieces in an instant.
This proved that they had confidence in Malin’s combat abilities, that the children’s conspiracy was merely humiliating themselves... All of this was predicated on whether Malin was indeed very powerful.
Lady Anna had neither forgiven her son nor blamed the royalist Vanter family; perhaps it was because, in her eyes, Malin would surely handle everything, so they did not care, as they considered the Vanter family’s murderer and his accomplices as good as dead.