The only sound left in the conference room was Grandfather’s heavy breathing.
With Roystan in such a state, no one dared to speak.
Grandfather took a moment to steady his breath, his anger slowly cooling. Then, as if realizing something, he turned his gaze toward me.
At that moment, our eyes met again.
‘Ah. He knows everything.’
I understood immediately—Grandfather had caught onto my scheme. He knew I had deliberately maneuvered Roystan in front of him, ensuring that he would see the fabric of his clothes.
Grandfather smirked at me before suddenly stating:
“Enough with these trivial matters.”
Just like that, the issue of 1.37 trillion gold was dismissed as insignificant.
“The meeting is over. Everyone, leave. I will remain to review the rest of the reports.”
His voice was so severe that no one could object.
“Just to make things clear—whether it’s 1.37 trillion gold or 13.7 trillion gold, this is simply Noart’s wealth being spent by Noart. Do not bring this matter up again.”
In the end, no one could argue. They had no choice but to rise silently and leave.
I glanced at Roystan, who was still lying on the floor.
His face was twisted in humiliation, his mouth hanging open in shock.
I smiled down at him with confidence.
‘That statement means I’m undeniably a Noart, too.’
I remembered how Roystan had once tapped my head dismissively, sneering:
“You think Grandfather would ever acknowledge some orphaned apprentice as a Noart?”
Yet now, Grandfather had granted me swift recognition. And not only that...
“And you think that butcher brat, stuck in his seventeen-year-old mindset, will ever love you like before?”
The warmth in my clenched fist told me otherwise.
Even as a seventeen-year-old, Julian still cherished me.
“If you touch my sister, I won’t forgive you.”
It wasn’t the same as before, but in a way, it was exactly like before.
A realization struck me.
‘Julian and I... we’re going to grow close again.’
‘From this moment on, so many things are going to change.’
For the first time in a long while, I felt like I wasn’t alone.
Like when I was eleven, standing in the Temple’s orphanage, and Julian had reached out his dirty hand to mine, saying:
“Bring me the meeting records!”
Caliban, having dismissed the family, slumped into his chair, his face heavy with displeasure.
No one wanted to risk provoking him any further, so they hurriedly left the conference room.
Julian, however, was the slowest—taking time to retrieve his crutches, with me assisting him.
Just as we were about to step out last—
“You lowly thing actually used your head for once.”
A quiet whisper reached me at the doorway.
It was Murloc, waiting just outside.
“You deliberately made Roystan stand in front of Father, didn’t you?”
The conference room doors began to close behind us.
Murloc knew this place well—he had attended countless meetings here.
And in this room, once the doors started closing, they wouldn’t stop. They would shut smoothly all the way until the end.
Once closed, no sound from the hallway could be heard inside.
“You insolent, cunning little—”
Murloc’s glare sharpened as he looked down at me.
“What did you just say?”
Julian, leaning on me for support, growled in anger before I could even react.
“Did you just say something to our little—Agh!”
He didn’t get to finish.
Just as the door was almost shut, Murloc clenched his fist and slammed it down on my head.
The impact sent me stumbling, knocking into Julian’s crutches.
At the same time, Julian lost his balance and crashed to the floor.
He barely had time to register what had happened before Murloc crossed his arms and sneered down at him.
“No matter how much you act high and mighty, there’s no one here to protect you two.”
Murloc smirked at Julian’s fallen state.
“Right now, you might feel like you’ve won something.”
Julian was about to say something, but I quickly grabbed his arm and shook my head.
Instead, I turned to Murloc with teary eyes.
It was a pathetic sight. And seeing my defeated expression seemed to finally ease Murloc’s irritation.
‘Yes, this is how it should be.’
The fact that this lowly brat had outplayed both him and Roystan—it was infuriating.
Satisfied by our miserable appearance, Murloc scoffed.
“But you should know your place. You’re just a butcher idiot who lost his memory, and a pathetic girl locked away in an annex. You’re nothing in this household.”
“How absolutely pathetic.”
The conference room doors burst open.
Caliban was standing inside, his voice ringing out like a whip.
“You step outside the meeting and the first thing you do is this? To your own nephew and niece?”
For the first time, true fear flickered in Murloc’s eyes.
“What? An idiot and a fool? And just how great do you think you are to belittle my grandchildren like that?”
Caliban’s furious voice thundered down the hallway.
Even the servant who had been ordered to open the conference room door trembled at the sheer intensity of his anger. Further down the hall, other members of the Noart family stopped in their tracks, startled, and turned back to look.
Murloc paled and immediately fell to his knees. That was the level of Caliban’s overwhelming presence.
‘But the door was shut! I checked it myself!’
He hadn’t even spoken that loudly—there was no way Caliban should have heard him...
Rosie quietly stood up and picked up Julian’s fallen crutches.
It was only then that Murloc realized what had happened.
When he had struck Rosie on the head earlier, she had pretended to stumble—deliberately pushing Julian’s crutch between the closing doors.
Because of that, the door hadn’t fully shut. A small gap had remained.
It had been such a tiny opening that Murloc had been completely convinced the door was closed.
‘She planned all of this?!’
Murloc stared at Rosie, stunned.
But her expression was the same as always—calm, composed.
The pitiful look from earlier, the way she had stopped Julian from lashing out—all of it had been deliberate.
“You say they are nothing in this family? And just how are Julian and Rosie any different from the rest of you?”
Caliban’s voice was incredulous, tinged with scorn. But then, his gaze landed on Rosie, who was carefully handing Julian his crutch.
A smirk formed on his lips. As if he had figured it all out.
Cold sweat trickled down Murloc’s back.
‘No! Father admires those who handle crises swiftly and elegantly!’
Caliban had momentarily forgotten his anger, now watching Rosie with amusement. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he spoke.
“Come to think of it, I nearly forgot something important.”
Rosie, still supporting Julian, turned to look at him.
“Julian seems to be moving around well enough. Starting tomorrow, both Rosie and Julian will attend breakfast.”
Gasps echoed down the hallway—Murloc wasn’t the only one stunned.
The Noart Family Breakfast.
Whenever Caliban stayed at the manor, all family members were required to gather for breakfast in the main house.
By inviting Rosie, Caliban was publicly acknowledging her as an equal among the Noarts.
‘I should have never called them nobodies! That provoked Father!’
Murloc bit down hard on his lower lip.
The fact that he had included Julian’s name in his statement meant that—even with his memory loss—Caliban had no intention of abandoning him.
Breakfast at the Noart household was more than just a meal. It was a place of discussion, negotiation, and power shifts. And Caliban had specifically mentioned it as education.
“Rosie will also move to the main house. There’s no reason for her to stay in that storage-like annex any longer.”
Rosie’s lips trembled as she whispered, disbelief written across her face.
Her expression was one of sheer shock.
“What kind of storage is that big and luxurious...?”
Was that really the thing to be surprised about right now?!
Before anyone could process her reaction, Caliban burst into laughter.
“Of course, hiding away in safety is one way to protect oneself. But as I see it, the annex is far too small to contain your potential.”
Then, after a brief moment of thought, {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} he mused aloud.
“Hm... ‘Flora’ should do.”
At that, Monica—who had been standing among the onlookers—gasped.
“W-What? Father? Flora?”
That was the name of Valia’s old room—the one their mother used to reside in.
It was the second-best room in the entire manor, just below the one Caliban himself occupied.
Even Julian and Roystan’s rooms were of lesser status.
Rosie was clearly just as shocked as everyone else. But before she could say anything, Caliban turned to Monica and snapped.
“What? Is it too small?”
“Are you telling me I can’t give my one and only granddaughter a room that befits her status, after she was the only one to welcome me back properly?”
After the meeting ended, anyone could have said something—but no one had.
No one, except Rosie.
With that single remark, Caliban silenced the entire hallway.
And everyone, without exception, stood there with grim, defeated expressions.