I'm the Crazy One in the Family-Chapter 124: Weak Convictions Are Meaningless (3)

Keter couldn’t stand it when things went too smoothly, and right now was exactly one of those moments.

He had just finished examining Ryze, the youngest son of Eslow, the Lord of the South, and was on his way back to reunite with the others. Walking through the palace corridors with Forty-Seven, Keter found himself utterly bored.

If I go back like this, Anis and Taragon will definitely ask me to train with them for the tournament. I’ll refuse because I’d rather explore the palace. Then this guy next to me will stick to me like glue, insisting on being my guide, which means I’ll have to walk at his unbearably slow pace. And everywhere I go, he will introduce me to people, saying that I’m an honored guest from Sefira. And then the response will always be the same: ‘Ah, I see. I am so-and-so from such-and-such. A pleasure to meet you.’

It would be an uneventful palace tour and endless introductions. None of this was bad. Expanding and cultivating connections was an essential part of being a noble.

But to Keter, this was gut-wrenching torture. The slow pace, the constant supervision, the restrictions on his actions—just imagining it was enough to make Keter shudder.

So, he acted on it: Forty-Seven, who was guiding him through the hall, suddenly collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. When they were passing through the hall, where massive stone statues were holding up the ceiling, Keter had pressed a pressure point between his arm and shoulder right at the blind spot of the guards.

It was acupuncture. This technique, which Keter often used in medicine, was also incredibly effective at instantly knocking someone unconscious.

Hiding the butler’s body behind a pillar, Keter immediately raised his voice, making sure the nearby guards would hear.

“Someone! Help! Butler Forty-Seven just collapsed!”

Two nearby guards rushed over. Keter knelt beside the unconscious butler, lightly patting his cheek.

“He's not waking up... His pulse is unstable. It must be acute heart failure.”

The guards weren’t well-versed in medical terminology, but Keter spoke with enough confidence that one of them panicked and ran off to find a doctor.

Turning to the remaining guard, Keter gestured for him to sit down.

“We need to perform heart compressions. I’ll do it. Just support his neck from behind.”

“Yes, understood.”

The moment the guard removed his helmet and set down his weapon, Keter jabbed a pressure point on his exposed neck. The guard collapsed instantly. Not missing a beat, Keter moved swiftly—he had less than a minute before the other guard returned with a doctor.

Disguising himself in the unconscious guard’s uniform, Keter lowered his posture and adjusted his stride to match the guards he had observed throughout the palace. In under a minute, Keter walked out of the corridor unnoticed, blending seamlessly into the palace staff. By the time the guard returned with a doctor, Keter was already gone. All that remained was an unconscious butler and a fellow soldier sprawled out on the floor.

No one could have predicted that a direct descendant of Sefira had disguised himself as a palace guard and vanished.

An immediate search operation was launched, but there were no traces, no clues, nothing to indicate where Keter had gone. Soon enough, the news reached Eslow himself.

* * *

“Keter suddenly disappeared? Hah, was he trying to get my attention?”

Eslow exhaled a slow stream of smoke from his tobacco pipe and set down the report he had been reading—a detailed record of Sefira’s activities over the past year.

Standing before him, Butler Ninety-Seven continued his report.

“Sir Jeffrey sought out Lord Myle to confirm whether this was a planned action by Sefira, but he denied it. They also had no knowledge of Keter’s disappearance.”

“Sefira isn’t bold enough to deliberately provoke me. They aren’t that reckless, either. So this must be Keter acting on his own.”

“The search is currently underway, starting from the outer perimeter and moving inward.

“Leave him be. I don’t know what he’s planning, but as long as the rest of the Sefira family is under my watch, he won’t dare pull any reckless stunts.”

In Eslow’s eyes, Keter’s actions were nothing more than a childish ploy to seek attention.

Over his two centuries of life, he had dealt with plenty of people like Keter—those who, unable to earn his interest through conventional means, resorted to unusual antics in an attempt to stand out.

So he thought simply curing Ryze wouldn’t be enough to impress me? And now he’s trying to show off his stealth skills? Hah. Keter, no matter how unique you pretend to be, you're no different from the rest of those aristocrats.

Had he known that Keter vanished simply out of boredom, Eslow would have been shocked into laughter, praising him as a true madman. But he assumed that Keter, being a noble with much to lose, wouldn’t be foolish enough to take such a pointless risk.

And so, he let his guard down.

Once he cures Ryze, I’ll keep him under my wing through persuasion or force.

If someone craved attention, it meant they craved power. Eslow had been impressed by Keter’s audacity at first, but now, he reduced his evaluation of him to nothing more than a naive, power-hungry noble that could be easily manipulated if given the right incentives.

“Is Henya still locked in her chambers?”

Now uninterested in Keter, Eslow asked about Henya, his daughter.

“Yes, my lord. Lady Henya returned at precisely 4:30 yesterday afternoon and has not left her quarters since.”

“Tsk, she must be buried in her tactical manuals again. I miss the days when she still acted like a little girl.”

Unlike most noble parents, Eslow never forced his children down a predetermined path. He gave them freedom to do whatever they wished. As Eslow wanted, his children took full advantage of that freedom.

His eldest son became a sculptor, and his second son lived a carefree life, indulging in luxury without bothering to learn anything. But his third child, Henya, chose to become a knight. It was not because anyone forced her nor because she had no other options but simply because she wanted to.

And as the daughter of the legendary Weaponmaster, she was nothing short of a prodigy. In just five years, she developed her own signature technique. In ten years, she reached the level of a five-star Master.

One day, Henya approached Eslow with a request.

“Father, I want permission to establish an independent branch family.”

“If you call me Dad and give me a kiss on the cheek, I’ll allow it.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then the answer is no.”

“The swordsmanship I developed may have been influenced by yours, but it is fundamentally my own. Isn’t that enough to justify my independence?”

“You think becoming a Master is enough to impress me? Try again. Become a Grandmaster, and then we’ll talk.”

“I will become a Grandmaster. That’s just a matter of time. But I want your approval now.”

“What’s the rush? If you’re that impatient, just call me Dad and give me a kiss.”

“How about this? I’ll enter the upcoming Sword of the South Tournament. If I win and become the champion, grant me independence.”

“Hmm...”

Eslow couldn’t understand why she was so desperate to become independent. But he had no particular reason to refuse, either.

Eslow nodded and said, “Fine. If you become the Sword of the South, I will permit your independence. However, you will not enter the tournament as my daughter.”

“That’s exactly what I wanted.” frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

Eslow returned to the present, exhaling a trail of smoke from his pipe, lost in thought.

Watching his master in deep contemplation, Ninety-Seven cautiously said, “If you wish, my lord, I can deliver a message to Lady Henya on your behalf.”

Eslow smiled and asked, “Are you trying to advise me?”

“N-no, my lord. I merely wished to ease your concerns.”

“Do not presume to understand my thoughts. That is arrogance.”

“M-my apologies, my lord. It won’t happen again.”

“It won’t.”

“Pardon?”

That was Ninety-Seven’s last words.

With a flick of Eslow’s finger, a sharp gust of smoke sliced through the air.

Thud.

Ninety-Seven’s head separated from his body, and the butler’s corpse collapsed.

The nearby servants silently cleaned up the remains as if it were part of their daily routine. Within five minutes, a new butler took his place. Embroidered on his shoulder was the number ninety-seven.

* * *

Having shaken off his watchers, Keter wandered the palace in a concealed state. The security was exceptionally tight, but that only made it more thrilling for him. It was a grand and complex structure combined with heavy security. Eslow’s palace was made for adventure. Though the hallways were heavily patrolled, many of the rooms were left empty.

“What is this place?”

Inside one of the rooms, weapons were scattered haphazardly, as if tossed aside and forgotten. It looked like a graveyard of swords.

—Help... me.

—Wh... Wh... Who am I?

A sticky, eerie presence brushed against Keter’s body.

“Tsk. Just another cursed place.”

He shut the door and walked away. As Keter left, a soldier wearing a helmet appeared from the opposite end of the corridor.

As their eyes met, the soldier came running toward him, arms outstretched.

—That body... Give it to me!

His voice was cracked and screechy. A faint red glow burned within the eye slits of the helmet. It was not the gaze of the living, but something else entirely.

Crack!!

A single, powerful punch from Keter caved in the soldier's faceplate. The soldier clutched his face, whimpering, before fleeing down the hallway.

—It hurts... I don’t like you...

“This place is fun. So many things to play with. What else is there?”

As he continued exploring, something caught his eye. There was a silver coin on the floor, gleaming in the dim light.

“Huh? A coin just lying around here?”

Just as he reached down to pick it up, a shadowy maw appeared behind him, jaws gaping wide to devour him whole.

“As if I would fall for that.”

Clang!

Keter pierced straight through the coin with his finger, infused with aura. The shadowy mouth behind him disintegrating into mist.

“Is there more?”

Keter expected more, like a child waiting for the next show in a circus, but no further anomalies appeared.

After wandering aimlessly, a faint scent tickled Keter's nose.

“Smells like expensive liquor...”

Following the aroma, Keter found himself at the palace’s wine cellar. He boldly slipped inside when the guards were changing shifts.

“Damn... This is Sangreal.”

Of course, as the Lord of the South, everything in Eslow’s wine collection was rare. Every bottle on display was worth more than a noble’s mansion.

“Fedelouse’s Deep Forest... Lunesque Silver Mist... Radiant Sunset?! He’s got everything!”

And as the saying goes, a wolf would never just pass by a sheep. Without hesitation, Keter popped open bottles and sampled each one.

Not stopping there, he stopped by the cheese storage to pair his stolen drinks.

“Food tastes best at night. And even better when you steal it.”

After refreshing his mouth, he resumed his adventure. Then, he stopped at an isolated area.

“What is this place?”

The location and exterior suggested it was someone’s room, but there were no guards stationed outside. Instead, the security measures were immense. There were two large locks at the door, and the carpet in front was sealed with magic—a detection spell designed to trigger an alarm if stepped on. It was too out of the way for it to be for the helping hands, and there was no sound. It was too isolated to belong to a servant, yet too heavily guarded for a mere storage area.

Who lives here?

It piqued Keter’s curiosity.

He crouched down, sniffing the air.

“Sweat and earth... And these footprints... They're faint, so it means that whoever lives here is consciously light-footed. They must be a pretty good knight.”

Keter began to guess who was living here based on the faint scent in the air.

“I can’t tell if they’re male or female yet. The door design is neutral, but if it is, there’s a higher chance they are female. Someone that lives somewhere like this wouldn’t be Eslow’s wife or concubine... Maybe it’s his daughter?”

Keter stepped on the carpet and stood in front of the door. The alarm should have gone off after sensing his weight, but it didn’t. It was because he made a platform out of mana and stood in the air.

Pressing his ear against the door, he listened.

“No movement inside. Time for my master key.”

From his pocket, Keter pulled out his master key—a metal wire. This lockpick, which also picked Volkanus’ lock, wasn’t just any lockpick. It was one of the Seven Tools of Shade, the Great Thief. It was a precious item imbued with liquid metal that could change shape when infused with mana. It deserved to be called a master key.

Click.

A palace of the Lord of the South was no different. Two of the locks were quickly picked, but Keter didn’t immediately open the door.

“If someone values security this much, they would set up traps too.”

There may be mechanical traps, such as one that activated when the doorknob was turned or the door opened. Those were the most common and lethal.

“Hm. There is something, but it’s not a trap.”

Sure enough, at the base of the door, a thin piece of paper was wedged. It was luxurious, but it wasn’t enchanted.

“A classic way to see if someone enters while they're away. Maybe they’re going through their emo phase? Or maybe they’re learning dark magic?”

Whatever it was, it was clear that the person living here wanted to hide something. That was why they only cared about security, not guards.

“Hehehe, what are you hiding? I want to know.”

The more they tried to hide it, the more Keter wanted to reveal it. There was no sound coming from within, but he still opened the door quietly.

“Hm, maybe it’s not a girl’s room? Why is it so drab here?”

The room was almost too dull and dry. There were no decorations or carpets. This was not just being frugal; it seemed like they had an allergy to furniture. The room was big and the ceilings were high, but without any furniture, it didn’t look like there were places to hide anything.

“Nothing here, huh? You really think I was going to think that?”

Keter put his hand on the wall and began looking closely. Then, he found a clue in a room with armor and grinned. He saw an unnatural empty space between the armor, which meant that there was a secret area behind that wall.

“I can hear something.”

Keter could sense that someone was in the secret room; he was certain that they were the owner of this room.

“I wonder what the secret is. Maybe dark magic? It has to be dark magic.”

The kingdom was sensitive about magic, but they weren’t too strict about it. There were nobles who learned magic as a hobby, and there were also mage corps as well. However, they harshly punished even nobles for dark or blood magic.

“Found it.”

Keter opened the wall without hesitation.

Clunk.

As the wall parted, it revealed the secret room. It wasn’t gray and dull, but it was full of pink. The walls were painted pink, lined with adorable animal stuffies. Beautiful and lively plants decorated the room, and elegant dresses were neatly hanging on one side of the room.

And as Keter expected, there was someone in the room. A woman wearing a sky-blue dress with her thigh peeking out of the slit was standing in front of a mirror. Her makeup looked clumsy, yet she still looked beautiful. She was tall, had long, crimson hair, and emerald eyes. She was Henya, Eslow’s only daughter and the infamous Sword Witch.

“H-huh?”

Henya pointed and stared at Keter, who suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Her flustered, blushing face was incredibly cute. However, that only lasted a moment. In an instant, her eyes turned cold.

“Die.”

An Aura Sword instantly formed in her hand and came for Keter’s neck.

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