Chapter 15

"I won't help you!" the kitten yowled. "You're on your own. Binding me with that ridiculous contract was already bad enough!"

Shadow surged from Alfred's hand, menacingly close to the kitten.

"If Michael comes to harm while I'm away..."

The kitten whimpered, its ears flattening. "F-fine! But you'll owe me! One gold coin a day, fresh meat for every meal, and two liters of milk!"

Alfred's tone was indifferent. "You start once Michael leaves for the castle. Remember your duty."

With its tail dragging, the kitten trudged back into the woods, grumbling as it went.

Behind it, Alfred murmured to himself.

"I just don't want to make the same mistake again. Never again..."

Michael entered the house with an uncharacteristic lightness in his step. The world seemed brighter, colors more vivid, and even the air carried a sweet aroma. To be accepted for who he was, without needing to distinguish between his past and present selves, was a revelation.

But above all, his grandfather had acknowledged him as family. As someone abandoned at an orphanage with no trace of his origins, even being able to claim the most common surname felt like a hollow privilege. Now, he had a family—true kin.

His father's aloofness and his brother's betrayal were minor details compared to the love and support of his aunt, uncle, and a grandfather willing to summon his very soul from another realm. Michael's heart swelled with gratitude as he stepped into the house, but an unusual silence greeted him.

"Uncle? Aunt Clara?"

Realizing where they must be, Michael's expression softened. "They're probably working on Lincoln's body," he thought.

With slight hesitation, Michael made his way to the separate annex. Despite the bitterness of their relationship and Lincoln's attempts to kill him, Michael felt compelled to pay his respects. After all, Lincoln had unknowingly left Michael a valuable gift: the ability, "Nobility's Refinement."

His body now moved with an elegance he had never known. He instinctively understood the art of formal dining, the nuances of escorting a lady, and even the rhythm of a proper waltz. If anything, Michael almost felt indebted to his late brother.

The annex was abuzz with quiet yet focused activity. Uncle Henry worked alongside Aunt Clara, meticulously preparing Lincoln's remains. The sight of Lincoln's reassembled body made Michael pause. Clara's touch had transformed Lincoln's once-terrified expression into a semblance of serene sleep. His severed neck had been expertly stitched, and his face was smoothed to near perfection.

Michael joined them, assisting with the final preparations. The outfit provided by the castle—a frilled shirt and tights—suited Lincoln's scholarly and delicate features.

The next day, Lincoln's modest funeral brought together the remnants of the Crassus family. Present were the baron, Michael's father; Lincoln's full-blood sister, Elizabeth; and their younger half-sisters, Phoebe and Kate, who were twins.

Michael silently observed the gathering. A family where siblings shared multiple mothers, where half-brothers attempted murder—it was the epitome of dysfunction. Elizabeth, as the eldest daughter, took the position of hostess in the absence of a baroness. Though she wasn't particularly close to Lincoln, her sense of propriety dictated her actions.

The twins, only fifteen and deeply sentimental, seemed detached from the somber atmosphere. Their limited interactions with Lincoln, coupled with their awareness of his disdain for their merchant-class maternal heritage, left them with little sorrow for his passing.

After a brief eulogy, the family took turns laying flowers on Lincoln's casket. Michael followed suit, placing a rose from the castle's greenhouse. His solemn expression seemed to embody forgiveness and compassion, elevating his presence to something almost saintly.

Even Elizabeth, who often harbored mixed feelings about her half-brother, couldn't deny Michael's striking appearance. She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, seemingly more captivated by Michael than consumed by grief.

After the ceremony, the family retired to share refreshments. The atmosphere was strained, their relationships as cold as the weather. Elizabeth and Clara were the only ones engaging in polite conversation. They exchanged compliments on attire and shared household tips while the rest of the family sat in awkward silence.

The baron finally broke the tension.

"Well, now that Michael is assuming the role of heir, there will be many changes. Elizabeth, you're of age now; it's time to think about marriage. When Michael goes to the capital for his formal registration, you should accompany him to find a suitable match."

Elizabeth stiffened, her striking blue eyes narrowing. Her words, though measured, carried an edge.

"I'll maintain my dignity by keeping this brief, Father. I don't believe traveling to the capital is necessary for finding a husband."

The baron frowned. "And what options do you think this backwater offers? You'll never find a worthy match here."

Elizabeth's beauty was renowned in neighboring territories, and the baron held high hopes for a prestigious alliance.

"If there's no one suitable, I'll remain here and bring in a knight as a consort. It would solve multiple problems at once. Besides, Phoebe and Kate are younger—they have better prospects in the capital."

The twins, who had been quietly nibbling on pastries, suddenly became defensive.

"Excuse me? Are you trying to get rid of us, Elizabeth?"

"She's the prettiest one—she should go," Phoebe added, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Kate chimed in, "Yeah, we know our limits. No way we're getting matched with a capital noble."

The twins' sharp retorts reflected their disinterest in leaving their home and the safety it offered. They'd already experienced the judgment and condescension directed at their merchant-born mother.

Meanwhile, Michael observed the exchange without a word. The baron's increasingly strained attempts to foster unity among his children only highlighted their disconnection. Michael, watching from the sidelines, couldn't help but view the situation with a mix of pity and amusement.