The Severed Fate, The Future That Falls

“Hmph… to flatly reject my proposal…!”

Duke Langheim crumpled the curt reply from Count Hagenberg with a scowl.

No matter how much momentum the Hagenberg house had gained from recent events, they were facing one of the five great ducal houses of the empire. Normally, a marriage proposal from the Langheims should have been an offer the other side could only dream of.

Yet they had refused. What kind of insolence was this?

The Duke’s anger was plain.

“…Very well. Perhaps Count Hagenberg was intimidated by the difference in rank. I will question him directly at Crown Prince Leonardo’s birthday party at the palace next week.”

Because of the recent locust plague, the imperial family had initially considered canceling the crown prince’s birthday celebration, but they ultimately decided to hold it as a symbol of unity in overcoming hardship.

Naturally, nearly every noble in the Empire—except those from regions devastated by the locusts—would attend.

That was why the Duke had brought Herta and Sieg to the family’s townhouse in the imperial capital three days earlier.

“Still… where on earth has that Jonah gone…?”

A full month had passed since Jonah disappeared.

The search continued, but they had not even found a single trace of his whereabouts.

“I underestimated him, thinking an eleven-year-old child couldn’t possibly have gone far.”

The Duke muttered this, yet even so, it was impossible for a child to travel far on foot.

The only possibility was that he had used a stagecoach or similar, but with no witnesses at all, they were at a complete loss.

Lately, Herta had been tormenting herself, believing Jonah’s departure was her fault, and even Sieg seemed to feel some guilt.

The sources of his headaches only kept growing; the Duke clutched his head.

“…No matter. From the beginning, I had intended to eventually grant Jonah a barony and exile him to some remote village. He merely vanished sooner than planned.”

The Duke had long been preparing to make Jonah lord of a small rural town—something even a failure like Jonah could manage.

He had mistakenly believed that doing so would fulfill the promise he made to his late beloved wife, Marta.

Above all, it would remove from his sight the boy who had taken Marta’s life.

Duke Langheim gazed at the small portrait of Marta propped on his desk and let out a deep sigh.

“Count Hagenberg, may I have a word?”

At the venue of Crown Prince Leonardo Roderick von Estraia’s birthday party, Duke Langheim approached.

Count Hagenberg’s brow furrowed slightly, fully aware of the Duke’s intent.

“Ah, Your Grace Langheim. Do you have business with me?”

“No, it concerns the marriage proposal I made the other day. I understand that your only daughter Lady Marguerite is lovely, but surely it is a father’s duty to arrange a suitable match for her soon.”

“…………………………”

“In that regard, my son Sieg possesses talent and swordsmanship that rivals any adult. I believe he would be a worthy match for Lady Marguerite.”

Duke Langheim boasted about his heir as much as he possibly could.

Yet no matter how much the Duke praised him, the Count had no intention of betrothing Marguerite to anyone except one person, so listening was nothing but tiresome.

Then—

“It is an honor to meet you, Count Hagenberg. I am Siegvald, second son of House Langheim.”

Sieg placed a hand on his chest and bowed.

His expression brimmed with confidence and dignity, yet with a single glance Count Hagenberg judged him to be prideful and somewhat arrogant.

“Gilbert Hagenberg. A pleasure.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sieg shook the Count’s proffered hand with a smile.

Yet inwardly, Sieg resented the attitude of a mere count toward the future head of House Langheim.

“Father! Over there is… ah, p-pardon me!”

A girl in a red-and-black dress came running up—Marguerite—only to notice her father speaking with Duke Langheim and Sieg, and hastily curtsied.

“My, what a charming young lady.”

“…………………………!”

Duke Langheim nodded with evident interest at the adorable Marguerite, while Sieg froze, his face turning crimson.

It seemed Sieg had fallen for Marguerite at first sight.

“What say you, Count Hagenberg? Let the children get to know each other; I am certain things will go well in the future…”

“I must apologize, but as I wrote in my previous letter, I cannot accept that proposal.”

“…And why is that?”

Duke Langheim glared at Count Hagenberg.

The intimidating presence befitted one of the five great ducal houses, yet Count Hagenberg was no ordinary man himself—he showed not the slightest sign of flinching.

“My daughter already has a prior engagement.”

At those words, Marguerite’s cheeks flushed and the corners of her mouth softened.

Thinking of Jonah, who was surely far away now.

“Then, if you will excuse us.”

“Please excuse us.”

The two bowed politely and walked away.

“A prior engagement? How transparent.”

He had investigated beforehand and knew full well that Marguerite was not engaged to any other noble.

In short, House Hagenberg had snubbed House Langheim.

For Duke Langheim of one of the five great ducal houses, this was nothing less than an insult.

“F-Father, I…”

“Fear not. Sooner or later, Lady Marguerite will be yours.”

The Duke replied to the anxious-looking Sieg.

Now he would not rest until Count Hagenberg tasted humiliation.

“Remember this well.”

Duke Langheim muttered as he glared at the Count’s retreating back disappearing into the crowd.

Yet the Duke did not know—

—that the fate that would have bound Sieg and Marguerite had already been severed.

In the original fate, House Hagenberg would have fallen due to the locust plague, and Marguerite would have sold herself at eighteen to save her family.

The buyer would have been House Langheim.

Even then, she would have caught Sieg’s eye—but only as a concubine.

Yes… Marguerite’s original fate had been nothing but misery.

Yet by accepting Jonah and embracing his wounded heart, she had changed that fate.

From now on, Marguerite was promised a future of unparalleled happiness—

—unlike House Langheim, which had severed its own fate and had nothing left but a future of ruin.