Chapter 403 Cemetery
The color drained completely from Tran Bateman's face. He wanted to make excuses, like how his father hadn't intended to harm Ghost's family, and who could have imagined that old man Outles Brody would suddenly burst into flames and open fire... Or maybe he could be even more ruthless and claim that it was all Marquis Bateman's idea, and that he knew nothing about it—and he really didn't know anything about it at the time; his father and brother would never discuss such matters with him.
But no matter how he defended himself, he seemed powerless in the face of facts. How could he easily get around the revenge for his matricide?
Percy stared at the shaky-looking little Batman with an unfathomable expression. After a long while, he suddenly tutted his tongue in impatience.
"idiot."
Under little Bartman's subconscious glare, the black-haired young man elegantly picked up the teacup on the table, took a slow sip, and snorted sarcastically, "Can't you use the 'life-saving grace' you gave me when you pulled me from the Kraken's tentacles on the ship to demand repayment?"
Little Bateman was stunned for a long time, then hesitated and said, "...Is there such a thing?"
He pondered for a long time, finally digging out this memory from a corner of his mind—sure enough, the other party was referring to the giant Kraken they had encountered on the ship of the Radiant Church on their way back to school after the Dawn Festival. The boy in front of him was so frightened that he stood there in a daze, and he had to pull him away... What a mistake, he actually forgot about it! Little Bartman thought in frustration, why else would he have been so humble in front of others?!
Percy: "..."
The foolish thoughts of his former school rival were written all over his face, and he finally couldn't help but roll his eyes inelegantly. However, this interruption did ease the inexplicably tense atmosphere a little.
The young head of the Brody family stood up. He was taller than when he was a student, and the youthfulness of his youth had almost completely faded away. The terrifying oppressive feeling of being a warlock of the Lord's Prayer class made little Batman subconsciously take a step back.
"You're lucky," Percy said coldly.
He did not explain what "good luck" meant, but turned around and told the servants around him to prepare a guest room for the "guest", and then provide some hot water, food and clean clothes.
Little Batman stared blankly at his arrangements. Suddenly his mind twitched, and he couldn't help but ask, "You're not going to kill me?"
Percy paused, slowly raised his head, and stared at little Batman in front of him with a look of caring for a fool. He seemed to be extremely upset about his slip of the tongue.
——Did he spend his school days fighting fools like this every day? Percy doubted himself, wondering if this meant he was also a fool back then... No, no, no, it was really too outrageous for little Bartman, a young nobleman who had never experienced the ups and downs of life.
"Who said I don't intend to kill you?" He snorted disdainfully at the sudden change in little Bateman's expression. "But all this still needs to be decided by Mr. Ghost. Mr. Bateman, your life is now in Brody's hands. You'd better think about it quickly. What exactly are you willing to pay for it?"
"And before that," he raised his chin slightly and announced in a very bad tone, "Mr. Bateman, you are under house arrest."
Little Bartman, who was furious but had to swallow his anger, was taken away. The arrogant fake smile on Percy's face gradually disappeared and turned into a cold indifference.
"Tell Mr. Ghost everything that happened today truthfully." He said coldly to the air, then stood up and left.
...Since the death of Mrs. Brody, he had not seen his brother, and all his communication was brief letters or through subordinates sent by the other party.
He didn't dare to go see him. It was his biological father who killed the other person's mother, and he was his brother's only remaining direct blood relative. How could he have the face to ask for forgiveness with his sinful blood, or even stay with him?
For the next few days, young Bateman was utterly restless. He had even given up on hoping to save his father. The situation in the royal city was changing rapidly, and the queen was known for her ruthless approach. As time went on, Marquis Bateman's chances of survival grew increasingly slim.
Percy was just as good as his word. He was placed under house arrest and not allowed to go out. The servants who brought him food were all so tight-lipped that little Bartman was completely unable to get any information. He could only wait anxiously in the "guest room" for the final verdict - until one evening.
The last ray of light in the sky was about to be swallowed up by the dark blue night. The rain had stopped, but the dark clouds were still hanging low, foreshadowing the arrival of another rainstorm.
Little Batman was staring at the puddles in the yard outside the guest room window in a daze. Then he suddenly heard some unusual noises in the distance, a low, orderly pace mixed with slight metallic collisions. It didn't sound like those of servants and civilians, but more like an... army.
Little Batman's heart suddenly began to beat violently. He almost rushed to the window, subconsciously holding his breath, trying to see more clearly - he saw that his old rival Percy Brody had appeared at the door of the Brody family mansion at some point, holding a kerosene lamp in his hand, illuminating a small area under his feet.
Soon after, the two men passed through the night, entering a circle of light enveloped by the fire. They wore dark traveling cloaks, their hoods pulled low, obscuring most of their faces, making them look dusty and worn. The leader was tall and thin, appearing slightly frail. The other, a step behind, was equally tall and slender, appearing beside him with a subtle defensive posture.
Although he couldn't see the face clearly, little Batman almost instantly determined that it was a ghost, and the ghost had returned.
Percy Brody stood straight at the door with his head slightly lowered. He didn't look like he was welcoming his brother home, but like a prisoner waiting to be tried.
The ghost stopped in front of him, turned his head slightly, and seemed to say something to the person next to him - at this distance, little Batman couldn't hear anything clearly, but Percy's head was obviously lowered even lower.
Little Bartman licked his lips anxiously, feeling his entire body tense up. He knew his fate depended on this man's hand—but why had the Ghost come to Ironthorn Territory? Little Bartman doubted himself deeply. Was the information on the Bartman family truly so valuable that the Ghost would personally come to him? But how could he not have known the significance of his fabricated story? If he disappointed the Ghost, wouldn't he be torn to pieces and thrown out to feed the dogs?
Just as little Bateman was wondering, the mysterious man who had been standing quietly behind the ghost suddenly moved. He raised his head slightly, his gaze piercing the dim night, and his blue pupils met Bateman's.
“……!”
Little Batman even forgot when he remembered to breathe again. When he regained consciousness, he had fallen to the ground with his body limp, covering his mouth tightly, not even daring to make any sound.
Seeing the rather offensive gaze disappear, Azuka slowly withdrew his warning gaze. Percy was still playing coy, his face tense, looking even more nervous than the actual prisoner, little Bartman. The professor had already removed his hood, revealing a pale, sharp face, tinged with fatigue.
...He seemed calmer than he remembered. Percy's eyes couldn't help but fall on his brother's face. They turned around quickly, and then fell back to their original position quickly and respectfully, as if the greedy and restrained gaze just now was just an illusion.
Has he lost weight? Percy thought with a mixture of sadness and relief. It seems not, although he still looks tired, at least he's no longer sickly and weak, and the dark circles under his eyes have faded a lot—obviously he's been well taken care of.
He suppressed the pain and bitterness in his heart, suppressed the gloomy hatred towards the person who was with him, suppressed the inappropriate desire that was almost breaking out... He simply lowered his head and spoke in a deep voice, the voice seemed to be squeezed out from his throat -
"...Mr. Ghost."
The professor paused, glanced at the young man who had obviously calmed down a lot, nodded slightly, and replied lightly: "Good evening, Percy."
Then he took the lead and entered the Brody Mansion, which had accompanied him through his long and lonely childhood, but did not stay in the hall for long, nor did he intend to visit little Batman. Instead, he walked straight into the deeper part of the mansion.
Percy stood frozen in place, letting the two men pass him by one by one.
He had a vague idea of where his brother was going, but he wasn't sure if he was qualified to accompany him. All he could do was stare down at the shadow beneath his brother's feet, which stretched ever longer in the light, enveloping him and then moving further and further away. He felt a mist of indifference brush against him, a piercing chill that made his soul tremble with grief and curl into a ball, sobbing silently and helplessly.
"What are you standing there for?" His brother's voice suddenly came from not far away. The other person turned his head and looked at him with those smoky gray eyes that were without any emotion.
Percy froze for a moment, his eyes lighting up involuntarily for a moment, but then dimmed again as if remembering something. The young man followed in silence, accompanying him down a more secluded path that led to the back of the mansion. At the end of the path was the Brody family's private cemetery.
The air after the rain was damp and heavy, mixed with the smell of rotting soil and vegetation. Percy silently took out the patriarch's ring. With the faint light of the bloodline magic circle activating, there was a creak, and the iron gate of the cemetery slowly opened a crack.
Like the old Brody House, it was in a state of decay. The iron gate was so rusted that it almost merged with the dead vines clinging to it, and the yard was overgrown with weeds, which had taken on a heavy dark green color from the rain.
In the cemetery, a few scattered tombstones were silent in the night, and green moss had already covered the cold stone surface - here slept the deceased ancestors of the Brody family. Among those former dead souls were the former Viscount Brody, Nova's father who died young, and his mother, Aidoni Brody.
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