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This child carries the blood of the great Kedor family, but also the blood of the lowly Guar. In your words, he would be considered a half-breed mongrel. You may control my life and my husband, but you cannot control me or my soul.

My soul is pure; I have always believed this, and that\'s what you and others have always envied.

I didn\'t write this letter to prove my purity, only to tell you that your daughter, Vivian, has finally set foot on the path you wished for me.

I\'ve heard that in the eastern regions of the Empire, women have started to rise. They call themselves \'fighters for women\'s rights,\' and people are calling them feminists. The New Party hypocrites have made public statements supporting them. I may not become a great politician, but I can be a distinguished woman of this era. I\'m planning to respond to the voices from the Empire\'s core by launching a women\'s rights movement here in Ternell, and in the state of Kanros.

I\'m merely informing you—I\'m not seeking your permission. I understand that a politician like you values status and power far more than any feelings for your children.

Of course, as your daughter, I hope you\'ll bless me and my cause.

It took me half a lifetime to realize this: not fighting doesn\'t make people think you\'re humble; they\'ll only think you\'re weak and incompetent.

May you live long enough.

May your illegitimate children continue to bother you.

And may you regain your health soon.

Love,

Your Daughter,

Vivian."

The butler set down the letter with a slight unease, standing quietly at the side. The letter\'s content was indeed extreme—a poison pill for the governor, who was nearly paralyzed. The doctor had warned that anger would exacerbate his condition, potentially raising his blood pressure and worsening his illness. Yet Vivian\'s letter was filled with nothing but infuriating words.

As the butler braced himself for the governor\'s outburst, waiting for him to unleash his rage verbally since his body could no longer do so, he was taken aback by the sound of… laughter?

Was this a bitter laugh of hatred and fury? Or was he genuinely amused?

The butler cautiously looked up, catching just a glimpse of the governor\'s relaxed face, his skin showing a healthy pink flush, and his eyes gleaming with an unusual clarity. He was genuinely laughing!

The governor tilted his head slightly. "Leave me alone for a moment."

The butler quickly exited, pausing at the door. "I\'ll knock and come in after five minutes."

This was a routine dictated by both the doctor and the governor himself. He was never to be left unsupervised for more than five minutes—his paralyzed body was still dear to him, and he wasn\'t ready to embrace the afterlife.

Once the door closed, leaving him alone, the governor chuckled openly. It had been years since he\'d laughed so freely—nearly a liberated, joyful laugh.

Every family hoped for a boy to carry on the family name, and once they had a son, they often wished for a daughter as well. Vivian was born from such expectations, and she was the governor\'s favorite child. His illegitimate children could never compare. Though he had wanted her to marry into a noble family of high standing, he eventually agreed to her request to marry Peter.

It showed how much the governor adored Vivian, enough to sacrifice even politically advantageous marriages for her happiness.

Though he\'d done things that perhaps didn\'t bring her joy—such as having one of Peter\'s testicles damaged and surgically cutting the reproductive organ that made him fertile—it was his way of "protecting" Vivian, rather than the motive she assumed, that of avoiding a lowly descendant. With his wisdom, he\'d long seen through Peter\'s ambitions toward Vivian.

So, he had "protected" her in this way, believing that one day she would understand—and indeed, that day had come.

As for the origins of the "half-breed mongrel" Vivian was carrying, he didn\'t much care. The higher one stood, the more one saw, and he understood that the battle between the Old Party and the New Party was already tilting toward a predictable end. The Old Party clung to a rigid "purity," allowing only old imperial nobility into its inner circle. The New Party, on the other hand, quietly practiced a policy of "elite exclusivity" but cast a much wider net. Background and past were irrelevant—what mattered was that they were acknowledged elites of the day.

Tradition should preserve values, not restrictive prejudices.

The Old Party\'s current standing, on par with the New Party, wasn\'t due to its strength but to the resources accumulated over centuries, resources they were gradually depleting. When that reserve ran dry, the New Party would gain full dominance.

The governor understood that the world\'s future belonged to the New Party, which valued talent over bloodline, not the Old Party.

But despite foreseeing this future, he couldn\'t change his stance—it was too late, and he was too bound to his position.

However, he hoped that his lineage would produce someone who could adapt to the new era. Call it a second basket for his eggs, or a hedge on the future and on the New Party\'s rise.

He noticed that Vivian had mentioned a feminist movement in her letter. It amused him, thinking how isolated Kanros must be that she hadn\'t realized who was behind this movement.

Indeed, she hadn\'t realized.

The feminist movement\'s initiator was none other than the granddaughter of one of the Old Party\'s Five Titans, with participants including many women from noble families. Working-class women rarely had the time, money, or influence to engage in such idealistic pursuits—they were too busy earning a living or raising children.

In simple terms, the feminist movement was a tentative collaboration between enlightened members of the Old Party and the New Party, an attempt to explore new paths together. It was time, and these women had risen to lead it.

The governor felt pleased. The Kedor family finally had a wise one, even if her "wisdom" stemmed from anger at her past life, her present situation, and her uncertain future. At the very least, she was on the right track!

A knock pulled the governor from his thoughts. "Come in," he called, and the butler entered, closing the door quietly.

"Bring me some paper and a pen. I want to write a letter to Peter."

The butler promptly retrieved the paper, standing ready at the desk and quickly recording the governor\'s dictation. When the letter was complete, he read it aloud, letting the governor review it before sealing it with wax and a stamp.

Later that evening, the letter was handed to the estate\'s liaison, who, with a driver, delivered it across two cities, arriving in Ternell by midday the next day and landing in Peter\'s hands.

Peter examined the seal on the wax stamp with a grave expression, then carefully opened the envelope and pulled out the letter.

His father-in-law rarely contacted him directly; in truth, Peter knew it was because the governor looked down on him. The last time he\'d received a direct letter was when he was elected mayor of Ternell. He had no idea what this letter contained or what it would mean for him, but he despised the feeling—this sense of helplessly dancing to fate\'s tune.

He unfolded the letter, its edges gilded and faintly scented. The next second, he overturned the table in a fit of rage. Teacups, pastries, condiments, and spices scattered across the costly carpet, leaving a mess. His facial muscles twitched uncontrollably, his fury barely contained.

"Didn\'t you say no one had contacted her?" he snapped, crumpling the letter and throwing it at his butler, who stood quietly to the side. The paper struck the butler\'s chiseled face and fell to the floor.

The butler stooped, picking up the letter and smoothing it out. The first line read, "Congratulations, you\'re going to be a father!"

There was no doubt now—the governor knew about Lady Vivian\'s pregnancy. Whatever happened next was out of Peter\'s control. He had lost all authority over this situation.

And that, more than anything, was something he could not tolerate.