Chapter 91: The Meeting Between Lloyd and Bernard. (1)
Knock, knock.
The sound slipped into the room clearly, breaking the charged atmosphere that had remained after the previous exchange. It wasn’t a strong knock, but firm enough to demand attention.
Bernard let out a long sigh, loaded with annoyance. His gaze deviated toward the door while passing a hand over his face, as if that moment had arrived at the worst possible instant.
"I’m somewhat busy right now," he said, raising his voice without bothering to disguise his irritation, "so if you can go to hell, I’d appreciate it."
He didn’t wait for a response. He took a small sip of his drink, recovering part of his composure while the liquor descended slowly.
The silence barely lasted a couple of seconds.
Knock, knock.
More insistent this time.
Bernard’s brow furrowed forcefully. His fingers tensed around the glass before leaving it with a dry thud on the table.
Katerina, who had already stood up, remained to one side, observing the door without intervening. Her posture had recomposed itself, though tension remained present in each of her movements.
"Didn’t I tell you to go to hell?" Bernard growled, turning completely toward the entrance.
There was no verbal response.
The door opened.
The gesture of annoyance on Bernard’s face remained at first, fed by the expectation of seeing an imprudent servant or, worse yet, someone from his service incapable of obeying a simple order.
But what he found on the other side didn’t fit any of those options.
It was a child.
Not very tall, of slender build, with pale skin and jet-black hair falling in orderly fashion. His eyes, of an intense green, rested on the room with a calm improper of his age.
Bernard blinked once.
It wasn’t his son.
And, however... there was something about him that seemed familiar, though he couldn’t place it clearly.
The boy advanced one step into the room, showing no doubt.
"Well," he said, with a relaxed intonation, "if hell were a place... without doubt it would be this, am I wrong?"
He made a brief pause, scanning the room with his gaze before fixing it back on Bernard.
"I mean, excuse me for bothering," he added, though his tone showed no trace of regret. "I didn’t want to ruin your... fun, but I think this is more important."
Bernard’s face tensed instantly.
Color rose rapidly, tinting his skin to an obvious red. His expression, already charged in itself, hardened even more, and his eyes fixed on the boy with open fury.
To Lloyd he resembled a tomato about to burst.
"Brat!" he roared, taking a step forward. "How dare you say that? Who the hell do you think you are?"
His voice resonated in the room, charged with indignation.
At that moment, another figure crossed the threshold.
A young woman.
Her presence contrasted with the atmosphere’s tension. Her hair, black and cared for, fell softly to her shoulders, framing a face of fine features and serene expression. Her eyes, dark, directed themselves at Bernard with firm calm.
She wore an impeccable maid uniform. The dark fabric adjusted with precision, marked by a perfectly placed white apron, without a single wrinkle out of place. The sleeves covered her arms to the wrists, and the high collar reinforced the ensemble’s formality. In her hands she held several documents, organized carefully.
She advanced a step, positioning herself slightly behind the boy.
"He is Duke Lloyd Kaitos," she said, with a clear voice, modulated with elegance. "I would recommend showing due respect. A simple and pathetic baron like you is nothing more than a fly beside the most excellent young master."
The words fell with precision.
Without raising the tone.
Without need to do so.
The change in Bernard was immediate.
The anger broke first, giving way to evident confusion. His eyes opened a bit more, searching in the child’s face for some sign that confirmed or denied what he had just heard.
Then came fear.
"L-Lloyd... Kaitos..." he repeated, with his voice losing firmness.
His body reacted before his mind. He took a step back, clumsy, and his leg hit the table behind him. He leaned on it immediately, as if needing something to prevent losing balance.
"That... isn’t possible..." he added, shaking his head slightly. "You... you were dead..."
His breathing accelerated.
And, for an instant, the room remained in silence.
Seeing how color abandoned Bernard’s face, Lloyd let out a contained smile, barely tilting his head while observing him with a calm that contrasted with the scene’s tension.
"My death was... greatly exaggerated," he commented lightly, as if speaking of a trivial rumor.
His green eyes caught the room’s light at that instant, reflecting it with a firm shine that didn’t go unnoticed.
Bernard didn’t respond immediately.
His expression wavered for a moment. The initial impact was still there, visible in the rigidity of his posture and in the way his hand continued resting on the table, as if needing that support point to remain stable. His gaze scanned the boy’s face carefully, looking for inconsistencies, something that would dismantle what he had just heard.
But he found nothing.
He swallowed.
And, little by little, his breathing returned to a more controlled rhythm.
He had to regain control of the situation, he couldn’t let himself be intimidated by a simple child.
"You..." he began, straightening with some effort. "So you survived, eh..."
His voice recovered part of its firmness while recomposing himself. He smoothed his clothes with an automatic gesture, adjusting his posture and returning some dignity to his presence.
"Though I don’t see why I should treat you with respect," he added, raising his chin slightly. "You’re nothing more than a child. A sickly brat who lost his parents. Your titles... here they mean nothing."
The tension didn’t completely disappear, but Bernard managed to hold his gaze with somewhat more security.
Lloyd nodded slowly, as if that response didn’t surprise him at all.
He was about to speak, but a voice interrupted him.
"Lucile...?"
Katerina had taken a step forward, her eyes fixed on the young maid who remained beside Lloyd. There was something different in her posture now, more rigid, more charged.
"What the hell are you doing here?" she continued, with incredulity. "And with him...?"
Her voice tensed.
Her gaze sharpened under the mask.
"You were supposed to kill him..."
The pieces began to fit together.
The silence lasted barely an instant.
"It won’t be that..." she murmured, before raising her voice suddenly. "You betrayed us!"
The outburst broke containment.
"Not only did you fail your mission, but you joined the enemy!"
The anger in her voice was clear, without nuances.
It wasn’t just rage.
It was something deeper.
The pain of punishment received, the weight of her failure... everything now pointed toward a single objective.
Lucia.
Lloyd cleared his throat softly, interrupting the tension before it escalated further.
"As I was saying," he resumed, without losing composure, "you may see me as a simple orphan..."
He made a brief pause.
"But actually I am... THE simple orphan! With the documents that prove your corruption and your crimes," he added winking at Bernard in mockery.
Bernard raised an eyebrow, diverting his gaze toward the young woman accompanying Lloyd.
Lucia.
She held several papers in her hands, organized carefully. They didn’t tremble. Her posture remained straight, firm, as if the situation didn’t affect her.
"Yes, those same documents," Lloyd added, following the direction of Bernard’s gaze. "I must thank Lucia for helping me gather evidence... quite conclusive against you."
The silence that followed was brief.
But sufficient.
Katerina turned her head toward Lucia with a brusque movement.
The anger inside her found a new focus.
"You..." she spat, taking a step forward. "DAMN BITCH... YOU SOLD YOURSELF TO THE ENEMY."
Her voice tore through the air.
Beneath the fabric of her tunic, something began to move.
First it was a faint sound, metallic, like pieces fitting together. Then, the plates began to emerge, extending along her arm. Dark metal, with reddish nuances, that assembled over her skin forming a compact structure.
The process was quick.
Precise.
In a matter of seconds, her arm was covered by a complete gauntlet.
The plates ended in sharp points on the fingers, designed to tear rather than cut. In the palm, an eye opened.
It wasn’t decorative.
The surface contracted, adapting, and then glowed purple.
A faint light, but with an ominousness that couldn’t go unnoticed.
That artifact was [Medusa’s Claw]
The air in the room became heavy at that instant. A different pressure, more concrete, projected from the artifact, directed toward a single objective.
Lucia.
Her muscles responded before her mind. The sensation of rigidity began to settle in her body, as if something invisible tried to immobilize her from within.
One of Medusa’s claw abilities had activated, the ability to paralyze an enemy.
Katerina didn’t wait.
She took advantage of that instant.
She propelled herself forward with a quick movement, closing the distance in a single step. The gauntlet rose, the claws directed at Lucia’s neck, tracing a direct trajectory, and if it hit, Lucia would suffer the power of that artifact’s second curse.
