Chapter 54

“Father-in-law.”  

Kalik’s head suddenly popped up. Unlike Aaron, he wasn’t even out of breath and smiled brightly. It was a silent yet pressing smile, urging Albrecht to make a decision.  

“Ugh, uh…”  

Albrecht’s complexion turned pale. He looked like a deflated balloon, utterly drained.  

This was the face of someone not chosen by God.  

At that moment, he truly felt as though he had been abandoned by God.  

“I knew this would happen when you started talking about God.”  

Bernhardt was deliberately observing from a distance, wanting to see how Albrecht would handle the situation.  

This wasn’t an official dispute but a childish fight between young nobles—one that had been manipulated into happening. There was no reason for him to intervene, especially since it was Albrecht Odillia who had insisted on it.  

Albrecht’s obsession with “finding God” had been famous since his school days. Even when he was confidently declaring his intent to become a knight, Odillia was synonymous with fanaticism. He never missed joining any of the well-known religious clubs, and despite his large frame, his other nickname was “superstitious maniac.”  

However, just like the nickname “superstitious maniac” suggested, his faith was a fickle one, always requiring some form of compensation. It wasn’t about serving God but rather about seeking divine assistance as a booster for his own success—making his faith arguably more irreverent than anyone else’s.  

And now, he had sought God again, only for this to happen. The truth was that his invocation of God was likely just a way to save face, fearing he’d lose his dignity if he simply backed down. Regardless, the God he had conjured through trickery had taken Kalik’s side.  

Though it wasn’t certain, Albrecht was probably feeling abandoned by God right now.  

Now, the Emperor’s role was to use this as an excuse to force reconciliation and indebt Odillia.  

“Mendel, you’ll have to step in here instead of me.”  

To be precise, it wasn’t reconciliation but extinguishing the flames. However, since Albrecht was the only one burning with anger, “reconciliation” or “resolution” seemed more appropriate.  

Mendel Hinsward scratched at the thinning hair on the side of his head and strode forward with the dignity of a teacher breaking up a fight among troublesome students. When Angelica had briefed him about mediating, he had imagined a quiet and private setting where he could act maturely and cleanly.  

Not something trivial like this—more akin to a petty squabble between adolescents.  

Or perhaps just a scuffle between street thugs.  

But before Mendel could step forward, someone else extended their hand first.  

“Oh.”  

The Emperor let out a small exclamation as he watched Mendel’s reaction.  

At precisely this moment.  

Albrecht could only stare at the man standing before him with a bewildered look.  

It felt like punishment from God for hesitating to declare the victor. No, he didn’t want to talk about God anymore.  

This was simply a disaster.  

“There’s no need to say anything. This isn’t a fight about who wins.”  

Peter clapped Kalik on the back, signaling him to step aside. He believed it was his place to stand before Albrecht, not Kalik’s.  

“A fight like this, which neither fits the circumstances nor aligns with the situation, can’t be called a proper match.”  

“…Is that because Aaron isn’t a knight?”  

“It would be the same even if he were.”  

“Hmph. Hearing that from someone who values knights above all else would make even a passing dog laugh.”  

Marie, unable to tolerate Albrecht’s excessive sarcasm, was about to interject even though she knew it was rude. However, Kalik and Aaron each grabbed one of her arms and pulled her back. Peter also gestured at Marie to stop.  

“Yes, back then, I was like that.”  

“You admit it yourself?”  

“That’s why I thought you betrayed me and used your talent as an excuse to run away.”  

Suddenly, the Emperor appeared from the other side. Standing next to him was a slender, middle-aged bald man whose remaining blonde hair faintly reminded one of Angelica.  

When Kalik whispered to Marie that this was Mendel Hinsward, who oversaw military trials, Peter bowed his head.  

“I’m sorry.”  

He bowed more deeply than he ever had when greeting the Emperor at an official event.  

“I should have respected that everyone has different preferences, but back then, I was too young and consumed with anger over what I saw as your betrayal of our promise.”  

Everyone present was shocked. The degree and reasons for their shock varied, but they all shared one thought:  

Why was Peter, not Albrecht, extending his hand?  

Even if Peter Escael had started it, it was Albrecht Odillia who had responded with words instead of actions, escalating the situation. It seemed only natural that Albrecht should be the one bowing and apologizing.  

“It was foolish of me to only realize after all these years that my sense of betrayal came from my own baseless expectations.”  

Albrecht silently listened to Peter’s words. In the past, he would have stormed off or made sarcastic remarks halfway through, but this time, he didn’t even blink, as if something had struck a chord with him.  

“So.”  

Peter’s gaze shifted to Kalik, then to Marie, then to Aaron.  

And finally, back to Albrecht.  

“I now ask for your forgiveness.”  

Hatred may bring about a sense of release, but it never leads to true liberation. The more one resolves to seek revenge, the more twisted obligations weigh them down. To feel even a sliver of relief, it’s better to express one’s anger, no matter how small, than to let it fester.  

Even if one decides to remain indifferent, a twisted sense of pride and stubbornness can prevent them from tending to the wounds of their long-past adolescence.  

No matter how much success or wealth Albrecht accumulated, his past remained unchanged. At times, his rage would resurface, overshadowing the joyful moments of his youth. His teenage years, once a stage for camaraderie, had been stained with jealousy and conflict.  

Even now, despite his accomplishments, the unresolved wounds and lingering scars of his teenage years continued to play out. What remained was the residue of repeated endurance—a habit born of unresolved pain.  

No one knew how Albrecht felt as he watched his old friend bare his soul and lower his pride.  

Marie and Aaron looked at their father with the same expression. Occasionally, very occasionally, Albrecht had expressed hope that Escael would one day kneel before him. Whenever he said this, his flushed cheeks and barely concealed anticipation hinted that he only said such things when he was in a particularly bad mood.  

“I…”  

Albrecht’s lips moved heavily.  

“I think you…”  

He knew that asking for forgiveness was difficult, but doing the right thing was even more important.  

Albrecht instinctively understood this too. He knew that if he acted arrogantly here, things would truly fall apart.  

And while his business might continue to thrive, Albrecht Odillia’s reputation would plummet into ruin.  

“Let me…”  

As Bernhardt glared at the stalling Albrecht—  

“Give me some time to think.”  

Albrecht finally raised both hands in surrender.