NOVEL NEXT Chapter 130: Brother, I Miss You So Much
Chapter 130: Brother, I Miss You So Much
Three days had passed since Lynn regained his freedom from Yveste.
During this time, he roamed the estate freely, acting as if nothing had happened.
As for Her Highness, while she no longer restricted his freedom, that was the extent of her change.
According to Afia, ever since that night, Her Highness had locked herself in her study, seemingly retreating into isolation.
Whether this change was good or bad remained uncertain.
Meanwhile, the aftermath of Orne City's disaster was still unresolved. Coupled with Duke Tyrius being preoccupied with constant demonic incursions at the border, it left Lynn with an unusual amount of free time.
The rest of the estate, however, was bustling with activity, wrapping up efforts to rebuild the city.
This had significantly elevated the Augusta family's standing in the City Council to unprecedented heights, and they might soon rise above their current baronial status.
Everyone in the family was deeply grateful to Lynn for his contributions.In fact, aside from Princess Yveste, his position in the estate now surpassed even that of Baron Augusta himself. Everyone treated him with utmost respect and admiration.
But Lynn had no interest in leading this crowd.
While he appeared idle, he was inwardly restless, waiting for Yveste's response.
Whether his stagnant fate could begin moving again depended on her choice.
Though he longed to return to the Imperial Capital, he knew Yveste's condition took precedence.
Thus, as usual, he spent the day lounging in the Augusta Estate’s library, flipping through books out of sheer boredom.
Seated across from him was a blond youth, Greya Augusta, burying his head in several thick books on alchemical theory, muttering incoherently as he read.
“Ah, so much wonderful knowledge... spinning my head in circles... blah blah blah...”
His words were garbled nonsense, and his face was blank as he flipped through the pages.
Lynn gave him a thumbs-up. “I envy you, truly. Using your youth wisely, striving for knowledge and success. Keep it up, young man!”
Greya's face darkened. “How about we switch places? You try taking the damned Royal Extraordinary Academy entrance exams!”
“No thanks,” Lynn said, picking up a book and propping his boots on the table. Leaning back in his chair, he replied lazily, “I already got kicked out of that place. Getting back in would be harder than climbing to heaven.”
“Is it really that tough?”
“Of course it is!” Greya nearly broke down. “Take the essay exam, for example. They expect candidates to write no less than 1,000 words in just an hour and a half! They might as well just kill me!”
“Are all you people in the capital this insane?”
Scratching his head, Lynn reminisced about his past exploits. “Well, I did struggle with that myself back then. Ended up getting in through a special recruitment slot.”
“How’d your essay score turn out?”
“Zero.”
“Wha—?!” Greya was dumbfounded. “What on earth did you write?”
Lynn seemed to ponder for a moment before replying, “If I remember correctly, the essay topic was ‘How to Eradicate Racial Discrimination.’ But I kind of... misread the title.”
“What did you misread it as?”
“I didn’t see the words ‘racial discrimination.’”
“...?”
Cold sweat broke out on Greya's forehead.
He didn’t dare ask what Lynn had written to fill 1,000 words or how powerful the Bartleon family’s backing had to be to get this clearly anti-social guy admitted.
In an attempt to steer the conversation elsewhere, Greya awkwardly said, “By the way, the tutor Father hired for me recently is utterly useless, teaching me nothing but irrelevant nonsense—”
“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Lynn interjected, looking at him with genuine concern.
“You little...!”
Greya took a deep breath, preparing to retort, but before he could, Lynn suddenly seemed to recall something and opened his system interface.
[Character Name: Greya Augusta]
[Storyline Grade: F]
[Deviation Rate: 0.00%]
“I take back what I just said.” Lynn gasped. “You really are useless.”
“Spare me!”
After a bout of playful bickering, Lynn successfully made Greya forget all the alchemy knowledge he’d painstakingly crammed into his head, prompting another wail of despair.
“I knew I shouldn’t have studied at the same table as you!” Greya grumbled as he grabbed his books and stood to leave. “That’s it. Don’t contact me again.”
“Hold on.” Lynn stopped him. “Did you find those letters I asked you to look for?”
“Found them, but your servants seem to have already opened and read them.”
At this, Greya’s expression grew serious. He pulled out a thick stack of envelopes from his pocket and placed them in front of Lynn.
“Okay, now you can leave.”
“Damn it, using me and tossing me aside, huh?!”
After Greya left, Lynn finally collected his thoughts, his expression turning solemn as he gazed at the already-opened envelopes before him.
Those treacherous servants had all been tortured to death by the enraged Princess Yveste earlier. Unfortunately, Lynn hadn’t been present to extract any critical information about his family from them. And considering the incompetence of the dimwitted subordinates Yveste had left behind in the capital, it was unlikely they’d uncover anything too sensitive.
He checked the chronological order of the letters and opened the earliest one.
Seeing the elegant handwriting on the paper, he fell silent.
Eleanor Bartleon.
Aside from his father and his now-missing sister-in-law, she was the only living member of his family with a blood connection to him.
His younger sister.
As he slowly unfolded the letter and read its contents, Lynn’s expression froze.
...
Glostein, the Imperial Capital – Royal Extraordinary Academy
The alchemy classroom was empty, the atmosphere quiet.
The students were still resting in their dormitories, and apart from the occasional teaching assistant, no one would come in so early to prepare.
Yet at this very moment, a young girl who appeared to be a student was frantically arranging the bottles and jars on the lecture podium in preparation for the upcoming alchemy fundamentals class.
Her slender frame gave an impression of lightness. The contours of her chest hinted at budding maturity, and her silky black hair was tied into twin tails cascading over her shoulders.
Her eyes, a striking shade of ocean blue, were reminiscent of someone familiar. Her delicate, porcelain-like face radiated elegance and grace.
But those blue eyes seemed dim, as if weighed down by hidden sorrow.
Eleanor Bartleon.
The last remaining bloodline of the Bartleon family in the Imperial Capital.
Her two brothers had been targeted in succession—one dying on the battlefield and the other stripped of his power, exiled to the frontier city, likely never to return.
Apart from the unconscious and bedridden Marquis Bartleon, now demoted to a mere count, the once-mighty Bartleon family had been reduced to just her.
To make matters worse, following the family’s involvement in a high-profile scandal, the Bartleon name became a lightning rod for rumors and hostility, all of which now fell squarely on Eleanor’s shoulders.
“Crash!”
A glass beaker slipped from her hands and shattered on the floor.
She froze in panic.
If her professor found another excuse to reprimand her, she might end up expelled from the Royal Extraordinary Academy.
And if she lost her only path to improving her strength, the Bartleon family would have no chance of ever rising again.
Tears welled up in Eleanor’s eyes. She crouched down, hurriedly trying to clean up the shards.
But in her haste, she accidentally cut her finger on a jagged edge.
This series of misfortunes was the final straw for her already fragile composure. She sank to her knees, tears streaming silently down her face as the weight of her grief and setbacks crushed her spirit.
In her mind’s eye, two familiar figures appeared.
Her brothers seemed to gently pat her head, comforting her as they had in the past, telling her not to be afraid.
But the Mosgra family had destroyed her once-peaceful life, reducing those warm memories to mere illusions.
Suddenly, a flurry of footsteps echoed from the corridor outside.
Eleanor hurriedly wiped her tears with her sleeve, unwilling to let anyone see her in such an undignified state.
But she was a moment too late.
Several girls burst into the classroom, only to see Eleanor kneeling on the floor, crying amid the broken glass.
They immediately erupted into mocking laughter.
Their scornful jeers were laden with disdain, as if savoring the sight of the once-proud Bartleon daughter reduced to such a pitiful state.
The leader of the group was a girl with high cheekbones and a sharp, mean-spirited air.
“My dear Eleanor, why are you crying here all by yourself?” she asked, crouching to meet Eleanor’s gaze. “Missing your brother’s hugs, are you? Oh wait, I almost forgot—your precious Lynn seems to have disappeared during that border disaster. He’s probably dead by now.”
“How tragic, Eleanor. Do you need me to comfort you?”
With that, the girl reached out, her hand aiming to grab Eleanor’s hair.
Her name was Eunice Mosgra, a direct member of the Snowhawk family.
Her family had grown tremendously influential in the capital over the past two years, elevating her status in the academy as well.
As a victor in the power struggle between the two families, Eunice regarded the defeated Bartleons with nothing but disdain.
Eleanor’s expression turned icy as she swatted away Eunice’s hand.
Though tears still lingered in her eyes, her defiance was evident.
Weakness was something she reserved for herself.
In front of others—especially mortal enemies of her family—Eleanor refused to yield.
“Brother would never die,” Eleanor said coldly as she kept her head lowered, continuing to clean up the glass shards on the floor. “One day, he’ll come back and teach you damned bastards a lesson!”
Though her words were firm, a flicker of sorrow flashed in her blue eyes as she lowered her head.
Logically, she knew that this woman’s taunt might very well be true.
Deep down, Eleanor had already braced herself for the possibility that both of her brothers were truly gone.
After all, under the deliberate suppression by Saint Roland VI and certain powerful nobles, all traces of the young man’s deeds in the recent events in Orne City had been erased. Not even a mention of his contributions was recorded in any official ledger.
Eleanor had no idea just how fearsome her brother’s actions at the border had been.
Moreover, after Lynn’s return to the Augusta Estate, news of his survival had been tightly controlled by Duke Tyrius and had yet to reach the Imperial Capital.
As for the Second Prince, who was also aware of the truth… well, having suffered his own losses, he wasn’t about to broadcast the fact. With Lynn and the others staying silent, he had no reason to spread the word either.
Thus, the vast majority of the capital’s clergy and nobles believed that the young man had perished in the Level 0 Sealed Artifact incident.
Only a select few knew some of the inside story and sensed an impending storm.
Perhaps the day that young man returned to the capital would mark the beginning of a monumental drama.
Seeing Eleanor’s stubbornness, a glint of malice flickered in Eunice’s eyes.
“So, have you thought about my earlier suggestion?” she asked with a venomous tone.
“Viscount Grad is quite wealthy. Though a little older, he’s not entirely unattractive. Most importantly, he fell for you at first sight at the last ball. He’s repeatedly mentioned your name to my father, expressing his desire to make you his third wife.”
“The Bartleon family is already on the brink of collapse. Grabbing hold of such a lifeline might not be the worst idea. Don’t you think?”
Eunice placed a hand on Eleanor’s slender shoulder, gradually applying pressure. It was as though her words were merely a harmless suggestion, yet her actions conveyed an unspoken threat—demanding compliance with the Mosgra family’s arrangements.
After all, Eunice’s elder sister was the renowned “Imperial Valkyrie,” Irina, and the Mosgra family had thoroughly infiltrated the Bartleon household. This gave them leverage to meddle in Eleanor’s fate as they pleased.
“Shut up and get out!” Eleanor suddenly grabbed a shard of glass from the floor. Ignoring the cuts that stained her delicate hands with blood, she hurled it with all her might at Eunice.
An old, ugly widower daring to lust after the daughter of the Bartleon family?
Though stripped of their former glory and status, the family’s dignity was not to be insulted!
“Damn it!” Eunice barely dodged the sharp fragments, but a faint cut still marred her cheek.
Seeing Eleanor’s defiant, “fight-to-the-death” expression, Eunice’s gaze turned ice-cold.
“Very well,” she said darkly.
“If you won’t accept a friend’s kind suggestion, then it’s time we revisited our little arrangement.”
“You remember the previous contract, don’t you?” A cruel smile spread across Eunice’s face.
“His Highness the Fourth Prince seems to have a particular interest in Bartleon blood. He graciously proposed a deal: your blood in exchange for keeping your family’s name from being struck from the records in the Imperial Capital.”
“One vial of blood for one day of survival.”
“But seeing how ungrateful you are, I think this contract could use some revisions.”
“Starting today, the price will change from one vial to ten vials.”
“I wonder how long that frail little body of yours will last… Let’s wait and see, shall we?”
With that, Eunice cast a venomous glare at Eleanor before striding out with her entourage, leaving behind nothing but shattered glass and a silent, trembling Eleanor.
For a moment, Eleanor stared blankly at the mess on the ground, tears streaming down her face without a sound.
After a while, she slowly raised her bloodied, battered hands and pressed them tightly against her chest.
In her hollow, numb eyes, a faint glimmer of sorrow flickered.
“Brother… I miss you so much...”