Portrait of An Arrogant Master - Chapter 148

Normally, Rubens would have made a comment or two to ease the surrounding tension, but today even such small gestures felt exhausting.

Taking a sip of white wine and wiping his mouth, Rubens spoke in a calm voice.

“Excuse me, but I’ll take my leave now.”

“Already finished? Aren’t you joining us for tea?”

Isabella replied with a hint of disappointment.

“Yes. You two should enjoy some time alone together. I have some matters to attend to, so I’ll excuse myself.”

Arzena nodded in agreement. She knew how busy Rubens was, so no one tried to keep him.

Rubens politely left the dining room. As he climbed the stairs on his way back to his study, the view outside the window suddenly caught his eye.

‘It’s already autumn here.’

The birch forest, dressed in yellow, was a sight to behold. The autumn in Lettern Village was peaceful and serene.

Lettern Village’s spring and autumn were particularly long. The weather was mostly mild throughout the year, making it a popular tourist destination.

But the harsh winter that passed by so briefly would often bring intense snowfall.

When the snow piled up in that birch forest, many who lived in makeshift huts wouldn’t survive the bitter cold.

‘That’s why I thought that child might not make it through that winter.’

Coming to this village always reminded him of the times he spent on the streets, even though he wanted to avoid thinking about it.

He had a bad premonition that the child, whom he had lived with like a brother, might die that winter. That year, Rubens worked harder than usual, gathering firewood to prepare for the cold.

Despite all the efforts, during Rubens’s absence, the child had a confrontation with the orphan leader’s gang and passed away…

The image of the child’s frozen hand, marked with bruises, still lingered in his memory.

The child’s condition was almost perfect, which made it feel strange. It seemed as though the child could survive when spring arrived and the cold melted away, as long as no one approached to shatter them, as long as they weren’t split apart.

That’s why he stood guard in the blizzard, feeling like it was his fault the child died, as if he hadn’t protected him.

Looking back now, Rubens didn’t know why the child had been so precious.

Despite spending time like brothers, they weren’t family. At that time, Rubens had also been struggling to make ends meet.

He had no room to take responsibility for a sick friend.

Had he been so thirsty for affection that he clung to the life of a friend he barely knew? Maybe he had subconsciously felt the absence of family, something everyone else had.

After losing the child he had cherished so much, Rubens lost the will to live.

“Won’t you come with me?”

That’s when Arzena extended her hand.

Was it a saving hand, or the beginning of another misfortune?

Could he consider it just a coincidence that Arzena appeared at that precise moment?

Back then, he didn’t mind if she approached on purpose.

She had promised to help him take revenge, and without a second thought, he took her hand.

In the end, his revenge was successful, but once he achieved his goal, emptiness returned.

The one person he had cared for was gone, and those who knew him were no longer there.

There was no more hunger, but there was no one left to call him by his true name.

By changing his name, Eren’s presence slowly faded away.

That’s when the feeling of helplessness took over.

Looking down on those annoying nobles had been amusing at first, but eventually, it felt dull.

Then, for some reason, his interest was rekindled.

He decided that he had to become a more perfect head of the family. No one would dare imagine anyone other than Rubens occupying the seat of Duke Krygen.

He also thought he needed to use his noble status to make money. As much as possible.

He wasn’t sure if it was because he was a former street beggar, desperate for status and wealth, or if it was the guilt of not being able to protect the child because of his lack of money that influenced him.

The memories were too old and faded, like paper that had been bleached out.

It was as if someone had deliberately rubbed an eraser over it.