Before Lark kicked Theorban.
He had been unconscious for two days, waking up feeling terrible.
Lark's body was human in structure but fundamentally made of divine power. Therefore, he never got sick, nor did he feel the cold or heat much.
His body could withstand hours of winter rain without any effect.
But now, he felt an unfamiliar chill.
"Why is my body in such a wretched state?"
Thump.
As he sat up, something on his forehead fell down.
Looking down, he saw a towel.
"What's this?"
Puzzled, he frowned, and suddenly, a flood of memories rushed to his mind.
He remembered begging and pleading with Navia in the pouring winter rain.
Navia's calm voice echoed in his ears.
"I'm okay, Your Grace."
Lark's lips parted.
"Crazy."
Yes. That was the only way to describe it.
He clenched his eyes shut, disbelieving, and grabbed his head as if to tear out his hair.
"Gone mad. Completely insane."
"I'm here."
"But……."
"Please. I beg of you……."
Should he end this round here? Lark was shocked to realize that he, though not crying, had almost been wailing in front of an eight-year-old girl.
Wow. Me? ……Me?
He wanted to believe it was a distortion of memory, but the recollections of that time started filling his head, vivid and intense.
Eventually, Lark had to admit it.
"Yeah. I had gone mad."
Lark's mind was highly unstable. The saying that a sound mind resides in a healthy body wasn't nonsense.
His body, engulfed in complete chaos, naturally affected his mind.
He oscillated between being terribly emotional and dreadfully numb.
One day he was depressingly sad, the next day irrationally angry.
As the cracks deepened, the symptoms worsened.
He had repeatedly taken anesthetics in a state of complete loss of reason, drowning in despair.
He was terrified to find out what that child thought of him.
"……But."
But if doing so meant that she was still trapped in this house.
Then, maybe……
"Is that not so bad?"
Regardless, Lark cursed his wretched body and got up.
Click.
Just then, the door opened, and Margaret entered with several bottles of anesthetic.
"Milord, you're awake."
Margaret looked at Lark with pity.
"How did you collapse? I was so worried when you didn't wake up for two days…"
"Two days?"
Lark rubbed his temples and sighed deeply before asking.
"……Where is she?"
"Navia?"
"Yes. Is she in the house?"
"Yes. She's the one who put the wet towel on you. I had her take a break for now."
"What about the others?"
Minerva had been holed up in the underground lab since yesterday, producing anesthetics.
Suleiman was out looking for supplies needed for the mansion.
Margaret then briefly explained what had happened while Lark was unconscious.
"Theorban's daughter is here now."
"That damned cousin is up to useless things again."
Lark dismissed it with an uninterested look. As he got up to leave, Margaret asked.
"You just regained consciousness, where are you going?"
Lark frowned irritably.
"I'm fine now, so stop treating me like a patient. What do you think I am?"
In truth, he wasn't feeling great, but he spoke brusquely and headed straight for the heir's room.
He needed to check if Navia was really in the room.
"Hey."
But the child was nowhere to be seen.
'Didn't she say she was taking a break?'
If she was resting, she should be in her room, where else could she go in this empty mansion?
'She's excessively diligent.'
Lark was about to head downstairs, feeling irritated, when he heard a familiar voice.
"This insolent girl!"
Turning his head, he saw Theorban, fuming with rage.
And then.
Slap!
Navia fell to the ground after
The moment he saw this, Lark, whose feelings had been disturbed until now, exploded with murderous intent and kicked Theorban.
"Ugh!"
Theorban gasped for breath, choking in pain.
As Masha, who was just coming out of the room, witnessed this scene, she screamed and ran towards Theorban.
"Ahh! Dad!"
But Lark was faster.
Choke!
Lark lifted Theorban by the neck with a twist.
"I should have killed you long ago."
His voice murmured ominously, sending chills down the spine. His red eyes were clouded with a brutal light, as if drenched in blood.
Theorban, struggling with a red, swollen face from being choked, desperately gasped out in a hoarse voice.
"La, Lark!"
Lark was furious.
He couldn't bear the fact that Theorban, no better than cattle, dared to lay a hand on Navia. His anger was unbearable.
"Please... save me!"
Lark was about to twist Theorban's neck right there.
His murderous aura filled the room, when an excessively gentle voice pierced through.
"Killing your clan members is not allowed."
Navia, brushing back her disheveled hair, revealed her small face, her white cheek red from Theorban's slap.
A new wave of anger surged, but Lark's grip loosened as he met her calm gaze.
Why did she have to resemble her.
Lark, full of desire to twist his neck right there, reluctantly followed Navia's words.
Thud!
"Cough!"
Theorban coughed violently, sitting on the floor.
Navia thought it was surprising yet fortunate that Lark spared Theorban so easily.
"If it were done behind the scenes, maybe, but not like this."
Publicly killing him would have jeopardized their plans to seize his wealth without issues.
Theorban, shaking, glared at Lark with bloodshot eyes.
"You think you'll be safe after doing this to me?"
Despite the near-death experience, Theorban still seemed fearless.
"You're unfit to be the head! A single loser!"
Navia was astounded by the absurdity, forgetting the severity of the moment.
"Anyone can see the Duke didn't marry because he chose not to."
However, Theorban thought otherwise.
He branded Lark a loser for being unmarried and childless, despite his striking looks.
Indeed, in noble society, such things were grounds for disqualification.
"You'll be deposed. A petition with the Imperial seal is all it takes!"
Then Lark retorted.
"Is my being childless the issue?"
"Yes! I even offered you my child, and you dare treat me this way?"
Lark, looking alternately at Theorban and Masha, who was trembling beside him, smirked.
"Raise your child yourself."
To think he would dare offer such to him.
Lark's tone was filled with contempt and mockery. Theorban clenched his fist but didn't dare attack.
Regardless, Lark approached Navia, still sitting on the ground, and lifted her.
"!"
Then he said.
"I will raise her."
"!"
At these words, not only Navia, but also Theorban and Masha were shocked.
Margaret coming down from the second floor, Minerva and Charlotte from the first floor were no different.
Lark asked Navia, maintaining a small distance and meeting her eyes.
"You asked me to raise you, right?"
Well, that was true.
"You promised to stay here."
But was this the time to mention that?
Lark, shamelessly and stubbornly, demanded an answer.
"Will you be my daughter, or not?"
Navia, dazed, replied bewilderedly.
"I, I will."
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