Lucas curved his lips into a smile that curled inward.

Well, well. This greedy man truly wasn’t easy to deal with.

If it weren’t for him, Richard would’ve ended up known not as a legitimate tycoon, but as a low-born upstart who struck it rich.

But once you peeled back the dazzling façade of the East, everyone’s origins weren’t so different.

Weren’t they all people cast out of the Old Continent for one reason or another, who had drifted to this so-called “land of opportunity without a king”?

And in the end, they all stomped over others to climb higher, never hesitating to resort to filthier means than anyone else.

Even Richard, the owner of a mansion with over a hundred rooms, hadn’t hesitated to commit crimes, including murder, for the sake of his business.

Lucas was no different. He was determined to climb to the very top, no matter the cost.

He wanted to crush every so-called noble lord and every native-born Easterner of the New Continent beneath his feet and rise above them all.

To achieve this, he still needed Richard Duquesne. Whether or not he bore the name ‘Duquesne’ would determine how his precious second life would begin.

“It seems your wrinkles are deepening with all that worry, Fa-ther.”

Lucas mocked, placing emphasis on each syllable of the word.

“I’m grateful you helped me gain a wife. And the investment you made for that—I’ve repaid it with this recent business deal…”

By investment, he meant the education and training Richard had paid for, so Lucas could act like a respectable human—college, manners, social graces.

“As for the promise regarding the noble title, I fully intend to uphold it. Everything is proceeding smoothly, so I’ll ask you to be patient.”

“I don’t want some worthless honor earned in old age. Bring it to me while I still have my strength.”

“Yes, as you command.”

“And don’t bother with some petty barony or viscountcy. It has to be an earldom—handle it accordingly.”

So in the end, this was just pre-birthday anxiety turning into nagging.

Lucas came to a rough conclusion and exited the study.

Thanks to his marriage with Cordelia, the Duquesne family had become “a household with a count’s daughter-in-law,” drawing the envy of many.

However, Cordelia had already renounced her noble title back in Hadrian.

Because in the Empire, noble tradition dictated that the bloodline of a great house could not be continued through a commoner husband.

But in moments like these, one shouldn’t fall into despair. Instead, one must seriously ask: is the real problem the situation itself—or simply the lack of money to solve it?

The upper class of the Hadrian Empire had already suffered a significant upheaval, and many were now in a poor position to secure funds.

If he offered them money to overlook a few minor legalities, wouldn’t at least some of them be tempted?

‘The Eisner venture is just the beginning of that plan.’

However, just as Lucas stepped into the long corridor connecting Richard’s study to the parlour, a man, panting like a dog desperate for relief, blocked his path.

“You. What did Lord Richard say to you?”

“Randolph.”

Lucas flashed a sharp smile at the former number one in the old household pecking order.

“We talked business. Nothing you need to know. So step aside, would you?”

“You act like you’re the heir to this family or something, don’t you?”

Randolph fumed, his face flushed with rage. He was the one who had supported Richard and built up countless ventures…!

“You’re not even his real son—!”

“Oh dear, Randolph. Didn’t Father explicitly forbid you from ever saying that out loud?”

“Urgh…!”

Lucas chuckled and attempted to walk past him.

‘Is this the kind of man you believe still has some shred of decency, Cordelia? Well. The moment you abandoned me and chose to uphold your engagement with the Duke of Berkeley, I knew your judgment in men was already beyond repair…’

That thought coiled beneath his calm mask like a thick snake of resentment. With his temperament, that was a dangerous signal.

But unaware of the storm brewing beneath the surface, Randolph continued to jeer nastily behind him.

“Does your wife even know what kind of man you really are? How much filth you’ve crawled through since you got here?”

“……”

“How many people you’ve killed—”

“Oh, right.”

Lucas said cheerfully, then spun on his heel and punched the foul-mouthed bastard square in the face.

Back in the Empire, even when he was just a servant, and again when he arrived in this country with nothing, Lucas had fought his way up with his fists.

So, when his knuckles cracked against Randolph’s nose, the sound was sharp and satisfying.

“Gahk!”

In an instant, Randolph was clutching his nose and writhing on the ground, blood spurting between his fingers like droplets from a fountain.

The expensive wool carpet—laid down at great cost—was now adorned with a new avant-garde pattern.

“Khff—!”

“Best to keep that mouth of yours in check while you still can. I’ve never heard of anyone regrowing teeth in old age, you see.”

“Ugh… nghh…”

“And for that, using the brain to filter what’s worth saying? Also pretty important.”

He grabbed the collar of Randolph, sprawled across the corridor floor, and grinned. Though he smiled, his eyes clashed like shards of ice striking glass—cold, sharp, and enough to chill the blood of anyone who met his gaze.

His grip wasn’t even tight, but the sheer force behind it made Randolph’s vision swim in and out.

“Try opening that filthy mouth about my wife. Just once.”

“Ggghrk!”

“You know I’ve done everything—everything—to climb this high, don’t you?”

“Huugh…!”

Randolph’s breath caught in his throat at the overwhelming force of it. He was on the verge of blacking out.

Just before he did, however, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps echo loudly from the far end of the hallway.

The first person to appear was Alicia. Although she was not known for doting on her husband, she screamed at the sight of him lying on the floor with blood pouring from both nostrils.

“Kyaaaah! Randolph! Randolph, are you alright?! Your nose! Oh my god…!”

“Kkhhh! Nghh!”

Lucas stood above the pitiful couple with his arms crossed. Alicia, of all days, wore a flamboyant feathered headpiece, and in her flustered movements, the bright pink feathers bobbed up and down like a frantic flamingo.

But as the chaos unfolded below, Lucas raised his gaze—and saw a woman standing still at the end of the hallway.

Cordelia.

She stood motionless, staring at him. Her violet eyes, once so serene, were slowly clouding with disappointment and contempt.

***

Cordelia had expected the women of the household to engage in subtle mind games—but never imagined grown men would break into a fistfight across the corridor.

She had just arrived back at the house, hurrying after Lucas, who walked ahead of her toward the grand staircase without saying a word.

“Lucas, what did you do? Why did you hit Randolph?”

Her brows furrowed tightly as she looked at his broad back, still silent and striding forward with long steps.

This man—her husband—had always been kind, gentle, sometimes so slyly teasing that she didn’t even know how to respond.

But now, he felt like a complete stranger. The distance between them suddenly felt vast and unreachable.

‘How did you hide this side of yourself all this time?’

And then—fear. It seeped beneath her skin like cold mist.

The gunshots she had heard near the Eisner building still rang faintly in her ears.

But at that moment, something else caught her eye: Lucas’s left hand.

She had thought only Randolph had bled, but even Lucas’s large knuckles were scraped and raw.

She still felt betrayed. But before that emotion could fully take hold, the worry she’d grown used to feeling over the past year surfaced first—unbidden and instinctive.

“Lucas, wait—!”

“Ha, unbelievable.”

Only then did Lucas react, sweeping his bangs back with an irritated hand.

“Does your wife even know what kind of man you really are? How much filth you’ve crawled through since you got here?”

Those words had ignited a fire that now surged hot through the veins in his neck.

He no longer regretted the corruption he had embraced to survive in this place.

Had he not made those choices, weeds would already be sprouting from his rotting corpse by now.

‘And yet…’

Why was it that the miserable past he had long since buried managed to infuriate him so much today of all days?

He wanted to believe that it was Richard’s constant nagging that had worn him down.

But that alone couldn’t explain the revulsion clawing at his insides.

After all, wasn’t life always full of annoying things like that?

‘Ha.’

He only let out a dry laugh after reaching the bedroom.

It was Randolph’s words that had lit the fuse.

He reluctantly had to admit that it was because he hated his past with every fibre of his being.

He had once been the servant of none other than Cordelia Hastings, the Count’s noble daughter.

Because of her, he had made one hellish decision after another.

The cruelest part?

She didn’t even recognise him. Not at all.