Ch.66

Sidorov hesitated. The Count mercilessly waved his hand. Sidorov was forcibly lifted up as if grabbed by the collar by an invisible hand. The judgment of blood is absolute. Those who offer their blood to the Count must follow his command with their bodies.

“Defend yourself,” the village chief shouted.

“Defend yourself!” the people cried.

“Defend! Defend! Defend! Defend!”

The audience chanted in unison. Sidorov couldn’t open his mouth. The audience’s chorus now carried mockery and anger. Mild curses were mixed in, and some even swung their fists. This too was part of the trial. The Count’s bloodline had always maintained that those who know no shame must rightfully learn humility.

But was this right? Should they be left like this? The Count was confused. The people weren’t angry at Sidorov out of a sense of justice. They were simply furious, not knowing at whom to direct their anger. To them, Sidorov, who had lost the trial, was something they could freely insult and mock. Sidorov had clearly done wrong. The Count didn’t particularly want to defend that fact.

But the Count couldn’t understand why, of all people, Sidorov’s neighbors were so angry. Sidorov wasn’t particularly disliked in the community.

Why were people so angry? Thinking he should find out, the Count shouted, “Silence!”

Fortunately, this was the Count’s domain. The walls, floor, and ceiling echoed his words. The people sat down in terror and fell silent. Only three people made sounds: Sidorov, who was stunned and groaning “uh, uh”; Bulkov, who was seething with suppressed anger; and Bulkov’s wife, who was crying while being comforted by other women. The wife and the women were soon moved to a separate room for stability.

“Mr. Sidorov. Explain what you have done. No excuses. No lies. No beating around the bush. Remember that I and my five children know everything about you, down to the last hair.”

Sidorov did as he was told.

* * * * *

The trial ended. The spectators exited under the guidance of the guards. Sidorov and Bulkov left too, and the doctor and his assistant packed up and departed. As the Count’s five children were about to follow the servants out, the Count called them to stop.

“I’d like to see the youngest separately.”

Her sisters and brothers all looked at the youngest with pitying eyes as they left. The servants had similar expressions. The Count was known to be quite strict with his children. Now only the Count, who had returned to being a father, and a girl fidgeting with her fingers remained in the courtroom.

“First of all… stop hiding behind curtains. And stop hiding behind your sister. You may be the youngest, but you’re quite tall.”

The youngest kept her head down, still fidgeting with her fingers.

“And stop fidgeting with your fingers. It’s not befitting of nobility… I mean, you’re not a child anymore, how long will you keep doing this? You’re thirteen. Thirteen years old! Yet you still act like you did when you were seven. What am I to do with you?”

“But I’m scared.”

If only she would talk back like the eldest son or daughter, then he could get angry in return, which would be easier. But the youngest was like this.

“What are you so afraid of?”

“Malice. I’m afraid of people’s malice. How can they do that to their own neighbor?”

“Hmm.”

The youngest’s dark eyes were moist with tears.

This was why the people teased her, calling her the black rose of dawn bathed in moonlight. With her silver hair and black eyes, she was truly as beautiful as a midnight rose, but because she would burst into tears at the slightest provocation, they euphemistically said she was “covered in dew.” However, her sensitivity to blood was unmatched. The Count had trained for a very long time to inherit the position of blood clan leader, and even after becoming one, he never neglected his practice. The other four children had similar sensitivities.

Not the youngest. Her talent surpassed the combined abilities of the Count himself and the other four children. This was absolutely not a good sign. To empathize too easily with others’ circumstances before one’s own sense of self has fully matured leads to a loss of self-identity. And for a child with the strongest blood of the clan to lose her sense of self… it could bring great calamity to the world. A ruler who is a puppet without self-identity.

“My dear, is wanting to kill someone malice?”

“Yes.”

“Then, what if…”

Though he thought it impossible, the Count began.

“What if I, your mother, and your siblings were all to lose our lives at the hands of some villain. Wouldn’t you want to kill that person?”

The youngest didn’t hesitate at all.

“But that’s not malice. That’s justice.”

“Didn’t you just say that wanting to kill someone is malice?”

“But they killed Father and Mother and my sisters and brothers.”

“Yes, that’s it.”

The Count sighed deeply.

“Everyone in the world harbors such thoughts to some degree. I’ve had them too. Even when it’s something completely unrelated, people get angry because they feel they’ve been wronged. And then they say: That person made me angry. That person started it. I was just minding my own business. I’m the victim. So I must strike first.”

The Count stroked the youngest’s head.

“It’s a difficult problem. Especially difficult for a ruler. You must be able to make judgments while fully preserving yourself. That’s why some say that a ruler must know how to transcend even their own conscience and moral principles for the sake of governance.”

“Why is that?”

“It means you must consider all possible scenarios. Malice doesn’t just occur between individuals. It happens between rulers, between groups, between nations and individuals, between the world and individuals. But the most fearsome is the person who harbors malice toward themselves. It’s an eternal curse. It doesn’t end until they die.”

Is this still too difficult for the youngest? The Count examined her face. There was no sign of confusion. Rather, she seemed deep in thought. She’s a clever child. I wish she could receive better education. Suddenly, the Count realized he was afraid of the child. Even for the Count, who had lived such a long life, the youngest was a challenge. Afraid of leading her astray. Afraid of ruining her.

“Have you ever felt that way, Father?”

“Hmm?”

The Count was taken aback by the unexpected question. The youngest’s eyes were clear.

“Have you ever disliked yourself?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I have?”

“How did you overcome it?”

The youngest’s face somehow looked gloomy. The Count stood up and gently embraced her.

“Knowing that I have more than one side to myself, there was nothing to overcome. I simply accepted it. I am not a perfect person… a perfect being. I once wanted to be, but not anymore. I now know that I’m just an ordinary being. I’ve done good things, bad things, and clumsy things, and I’ve made many mistakes.”

The Count knelt down and gazed into the youngest’s black eyes.

“Now I’ve made peace with all of that. I just feel sad when I’m sad, laugh when something is funny, and let go when I need to let go. In any situation, no matter what you’ve become, a person can always choose. You can choose to be a better version of yourself. You too, Avashina.”

Avashina. Tender rose. The Count stood up. And holding his beloved youngest daughter’s hand, he left the courtroom.

Of course, that didn’t mean his worries had completely subsided. In the middle of the night, he sat at his desk recording the day’s trial. And beside it, he wrote down a memorandum about himself. Until a white, slender hand lightly squeezed his neck.

“Please, my lady. Don’t do this.”

The Count sighed.

“I warned you. You’ll harm your body this way.”

Even in human form, she was still kind. Not gentle, but kind.

“But there’s no need to strangle me.”

“Try to understand the feelings of a woman who was ignored after calling three times, Count.”

The Count put away his quill pen and stood up. He walked to the bed and sat down beside the Countess.

“What are you thinking about so deeply?”

“Many things. The changing nature of people. The disposition of Sidorov. And the disease. That disease is not endemic. It came from outside. Livestock venereal disease problems don’t occur often. And that disease has quite a notorious reputation. According to other nobles, mmph.”

The Countess suddenly kissed him, preventing the Count from continuing.

“And?”

“Uh, well. And, the youngest.”

“Avashina.”

The Countess and the Count smiled as their eyes met.

“You heard everything that happened today, didn’t you?”

“Of course. She did well. She’s truly a remarkable child.”

“Her talent is exceptional. But she’s too sensitive. She’s still… too delicate a child, my lady.”

“She’s the type who likes people but is a loner. Avashina. With a girl’s unique sensibility and the most outstanding talent of the bloodline. She’s sharp and sensitive.”

“Her talent is too great.”

The Count sighed.

“Because it’s the skill of dealing with people’s hearts. She’s too sensitive. And perceptive. If she becomes the blood clan leader, she will be the most powerful ruler. By then, no one will be able to stop her.”

The Countess placed her hand on the Count’s shoulder.

“Actually, I’ve been thinking about that issue too. Would you like to hear? You’ll be quite pleased.”

“Oh?”

This was welcome news. The Count was delighted.

“The real problem is that Avashina is too trapped in her own inner world, isn’t it? So, what if we teach her how to connect with worlds other than her own?”

“For example?”

“Well. We could send her to a monastery. Or when she’s a bit older, we could send her to study abroad.”

These were options the Count had already rejected.

“I won’t send her to a monastery. And studying abroad is out of the question. Our youngest daughter needs more nurturing.”

Of course, the Countess already knew. She knew that the Count deeply cherished and loved his youngest daughter, and therefore treated her with care. Having anticipated this, the Countess wasn’t disappointed at all. Rather, she was pleased that he said so.

“Then there’s one last method.”

The Countess’s small, pointed tongue briefly traced her lips. An ominous feeling ran down the Count’s back.

“The method of caring for someone smaller and more fragile than oneself. Let her take care of a younger sibling.”

The Count’s face turned pale.

“But Avashina doesn’t have a younger sibling.”

The Countess’s eyes gleamed.

“To be precise, she didn’t. Now she will. Hehe, Count.”

“I-I-I’m tired today.”

But it was futile to resist the Countess.

“I thought you might say that, so I’ve already heated water. It’s a good temperature for relieving fatigue. I’ll bathe you, so just follow me.”

“Can’t I just go to sleep?” the Count pleaded, but the Countess was merciless. After all, the Countess was braver than the Count.

“Take it off.”