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Chapter 136:

Boliven whispered into Isaac’s ear.

“Would you like to dance here, or shall we go to a room and get intense…?”

Isaac smiled and took his hand. He didn’t even want to touch fingertips, but as with removing animal skin, one couldn’t avoid getting bloodied.

As their fingers interlocked, Boliven smirked, but his expression stiffened instantly.

Boliven’s face turned pale, then flushed red with bulging veins. Onlookers watched in puzzlement as the two stood facing each other with their fingers interlocked, unaware that Boliven’s fingers were almost bending backwards.

Boliven wanted to scream but clenched his teeth due to pride. However, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t match Isaac’s grip strength.

Even if Nephilim were considered physically weak, Isaac, armed with various blessings, had already surpassed normal human capabilities. Though it drained some of his energy, this was nothing compared to his strength during battle.

“What, uh, you, what are…”

Isaac didn’t reply but began to step as if to dance. Although these were preparatory dance moves, the barely standing Boliven couldn’t move properly and fell.

Only then did Isaac let go of his hand. Dietrich intervened.

“He seems drunk. Send him to his room.”

Some guards tried to help Boliven up.

But then, Boliven locked eyes with Isaac.

A mocking, scornful look.

Boliven was overwhelmed by intense anger. He couldn’t forgive the woman who had embarrassed him in front of other nobles, even if she was the daughter of the Duke of Brant.

“Fine. Keep it up.”

As Isaac watched Boliven charge at him with a scream, he smiled faintly.

The charm of a Nephilim wasn’t just about gaining affection and popularity; it was also about controlling the atmosphere and manipulating emotions.

The ability to induce extreme liking could also induce extreme hatred.

“Bitch!!”

In an instant, Isaac slapped Boliven’s cheek with his left hand, not the right.

With a loud bang, Boliven’s face hit the stairs as if his neck would snap.

The hall fell into a chilling silence as even Dietrich was taken aback. A priest rushed to check on Boliven.

“He’s alive.”

Sighs of relief and disappointment mixed among the onlookers who first checked if he was alive.

Dietrich, finally relieved, exploded in anger.

“How dare you attack my daughter in my own house, on my own land? This madman! Throw him out of Rougeberg immediately! The Tretia family must pay a sufficient price!”

Dietrich’s anger was genuine, mixed with the troubles caused by Isolde, making it clear to everyone that Boliven was at fault. Other nobles looked on with contempt as he was dragged away.

After receiving treatment from the priest, Boliven was taken away by the guards, his face bearing a new, large scar torn by Isaac’s left hand’s tentacle.

And within that wound lurked parasites from beyond.

It might be better for Tretia’s lands to be overseen by a more rational new lord rather than a foolish one.

Dietrich then approached Isaac and whispered.

“Next time, please warn me before you cause a scene.”

“Wasn’t it good though?”

Instead of replying, Dietrich simply gave a thumbs up. The banquet continued without the troublemaker, but the incident would long be discussed among the nobles.

The reputation of ‘elegant and chaste Lady Isolde’ had vanished, replaced by rumors of ‘monstrous strength that could knock down a bear-sized man in one hit.’

***

Three days had passed since the banquet began.

At Isaac’s request, the banquet extended for quite some time. Since it was early winter and the nobles had less to do, they enjoyed the event at leisure. Meanwhile, Isaac had been gathering considerable information about the nobles approaching Isolde.

There were mainly three types of nobles around Isolde.

First, those hoping to improve their fortunes by courting her.

This was the most common type.

They approached her calculatingly and withdrew as soon as they realized there was no chance.

Second, those genuinely smitten with Isaac.

They dreamed only of ‘romance,’ not marriage. Isaac avoided talking to men altogether and struggled to dismiss the women despite their attraction to Nephilim charm. Fortunately, he had the help of Isolde’s mother, Freya.

Third,

the suspicious ones.

They neither approached nor spoke to Isaac but quietly observed him during the banquet, convinced they were tracking his movements.

“How many today?”

“Five. It’s increasing.”

Suspicious figures were also appearing within Rougeberg Castle.

The Duke of Brant’s security was not lax; it was deliberately designed with gaps as traps. Thanks to this, Isaac could monitor these individuals through Hesabel.

“Keep up the good work. Just watch for now.”

“Got it.”

It was clear that those who had fed Isolde the red flesh were connected. However, Isaac chose not to apprehend them immediately but to observe them instead. If he acted rashly now, the others might flee. It was essential to eradicate them when the opportunity was right.

Unexpectedly, the complication arose from the length of the banquet being too extended.

“People would naturally assume it’s about that given the scale of this banquet…”

“Are you deliberately delaying the announcement?”

The nobility was expecting some announcement at this banquet.

Specifically, about the new son-in-law of the Brant family.

Dietrich was well aware of the rumors already circulating.

“Normally, you wouldn’t have a banquet of this scale without it being for a marriage or an engagement. Everything in society is politics and plots. ‘The Duke of Brant just wants to enjoy some drinks and dancing at a banquet’ won’t fly.”

“It seems we need to make some announcement after all.”

Isaac responded reluctantly to Dietrich’s whisper.

Isaac had been attending the banquet without fail, as it was ostensibly to ‘celebrate Isolde’s retirement.’ After all, the guest of honor couldn’t be absent. It was regrettable considering the real guest of honor was bored, spending time in a tower.

“That’s right. Plus, Isolde is of marriageable age. Everyone her age is already married. There used to be the excuse that she was working for the church…”

“If we delay further, rumors might start that there’s something wrong.”

“Exactly. So, if my daughter ends up not marrying, someone has to take responsibility, right?”

“Why should I be responsible?”

“I didn’t say you had to take responsibility, Sir Knight. But, um, there are some strange rumors going around.”

“What rumors are you talking about?”

“Rumors like you have to be confident that your neck won’t break even if slapped by the Duke of Brant’s daughter, or that Isolde herself has declared she will marry only a strong contender who can defeat her…”

Isaac, the source of these rumors, had nothing he could say.

He just kept silent, pretending not to know.

However, Dietrich was right. To quell the rumors about Isolde, they needed to hurry up and announce an engagement, or at least someone should act as a matchmaker. And in the Brant family, suitors would likely be lining up; there was no shortage of candidates.

Dietrich’s words were a kind of warning.

If it was clear that Isaac was not interested, he would consider a political marriage for her.

And Isolde was a person loyal to her duty and family. She would not refuse her family’s obligations for romantic feelings. It seemed likely that the Duke of Brant was considering a son-in-law who could support her, not just teach her how to be supportive.

***

“Ah, Dietrich Brant!”

As Isaac was deep in thought, a familiar voice called out.

Not many could address Dietrich Brant so casually—it required someone of sufficient rank, age, or social respect.

Or just someone with a bold personality.

“Duchess Delia Lyon.”

Dietrich greeted Delia with a forced smile as she approached, her robust figure swaying. Isaac had met her before in the Issacrea domain.

Her booming voice, loud enough to be heard across the banquet hall, approached with a hearty laugh. Dietrich visibly disliked her, but Delia seemed unfazed.

“I heard you were busy?”

“How could I miss a big party in Rougeberg! Don’t look too upset, is she your famously beautiful daughter?”

Delia grabbed Isaac’s hand and looked into his face, then tilted her head as if something was odd.

“Huh? You do have the looks I heard about, but haven’t we met before?”

Isaac tensed up, but she soon clapped her hands as if realizing.

“Ah, yes! That’s right! Issacrea domain! You were one of the inquisitors who visited. Did you know, Dietrich? Your daughter and I have met before in Issacrea domain!”

“I wasn’t aware.”

“Yes. I couldn’t properly greet her then due to the circumstances, but I’m glad to meet her again. She seems very modest and well-mannered now. She would have matched well with that friend back then…”

Isaac now felt a kinship with Dietrich. He started feeling the urge to kick Delia out.

However, contrary to Isaac’s feelings, Dietrich seemed curious about her comment.

“That friend?”

“Sir Issacrea. Martyred in the North Sea.”

“Ah, the Holy Grail Knight.”

“It’s a bit late to say this, but the Holy Grail Knight and I were very close. I thought he would achieve great things, but I never imagined he would die so tragically and become a star…”

Delia continued to praise how much she respected and cared for Isaac, and how much Isaac respected and followed her. It was torture for Isaac to listen to this directly, but he managed to keep a smiling face.

“Oh, I’ve kept the busy Duke too long. There are many young men glancing at the lady; I can’t keep holding you up. I’ll go and ruin some party food now. The chef is quite skilled. Oh, by the way, I just remembered something to ask.”

After talking nonstop, Delia suddenly seemed to remember something and asked Dietrich, who frowned as if expecting more nonsense, but her next words shook him visibly.

“That Holy Grail Knight you mentioned. I heard he’s actually alive, is that true?”

–TL Notes–

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you want to read up to advance 20 chapters or support me, you can do it at /Akaza156