After a full minute and a half, the door creaked open.
A maid entered.
Young, with an apron slightly wrinkled, hair loose, face neutral—but her eyes...
Annoyed.
She barely glanced at Lucy. "Yes?"
Lucy fidgeted with her sleeves. "Um… I was hoping you could—could clean up the room. Just a little."
The maid raised an eyebrow. "Why? You have guests now?"
Her tone was dry. Dismissive.
Lucy swallowed hard. "I just thought… it's a little dusty, and—"
"If you want it cleaned, clean it yourself," the maid said, turning as if ready to walk out.
The silence that followed was absolute.
Then—
Ace stepped forward.
The maid froze mid-step, as if realizing only now who else was in the room.
Her eyes widened in horror.
"M-my lord—!" she gasped, dropping into a clumsy curtsey.
Ace didn't respond immediately.
He looked at her the way one might look at a rotting fruit on a silver tray.
Then, quietly, like the crackle before a storm:
"Harlen."
The curtain shifted, and the head butler stepped out like a shadow sliding into form.
"Yes, Lord Ace," he said.
"Have this maid executed."
"Understood."
The maid's face drained of all color.
Ace took a step closer, his voice cold as iron.
"You serve a Thornevale. That is an honor."
"M-my lord, I didn't realize—"
"Your duty was to server a Thornevale," he said. "But you insulted the Thornevales. "
His eyes flicked to Lucy. "And you — Why are you tolerating this?"
Lucy looked down, shame creeping into her voice. "I didn't… I thought I shouldn't bother anyone…"
"Ridicules!," Ace said. "You don't bother anyone. You command them. You bear the name. That's all that matters."
"Tell her not to speak," he said pointing towards the maid.
Lucy blinked. "Wh-what?"
Ace's eyes didn't leave the maid. "Tell her. She is your servant, not mine."
Lucy hesitated, then found her voice. "D-don't say another word," she said softly to the maid.
The girl lowered her head quickly, lips clamped shut.
Ace nodded.
"Now," he said, turning to Lucy again. "Ring the bell again. Call the guards."
Lucy obeyed, pulling the rope firmly, ringing the bell two times for the guards. The soft chime echoed once more down the hallway.
They waited.
One minute.
Two.
No one came.
Ace and butler slipped behind the curtains again, but Lucy's hands began to tremble slightly. She glanced at him, worried.
Then — knock knock — two guards entered, casual and sluggish, adjusting their armor straps as if woken from a nap.
They looked around, confused.
"My lady," one said, nodding at Lucy. "We heard the bell."
Lucy swallowed. "I—I want this maid executed. For disobedience and insubordination to the House."
The guards blinked. One let out a short laugh. "You want her executed? That's not really your place, is it?"
"We take orders from Lord Thornevale," the other added, with a shrug. "Not from—"
He didn't finish.
Because the air in the room changed.
It thickened, pulsed, tightened like a noose.
Ace stepped forward — his presence like thunder before the lightning.
And then—
"GUARDS!"
His voice boomed through the chamber like a war drum — laced with mana, reverberating off the walls, rattling the very glass in the windows.
The maid collapsed to her knees with a cry. Lucy jumped. The two guards stiffened, eyes wide with sudden fear, as if something ancient had roared through their bones.
Silence fell for half a heartbeat.
Then—
Footsteps. Dozens.
Armored boots slammed against stone as more guards stormed down the hall and burst into the room, weapons sheathed but ready, eyes sharp.
Two squad leaders pushed forward. "Young master!"
He didn't shout this time. He didn't need to.
"Insubordination," he said coolly. "These two guards disobeyed a direct command from a Thornevale heir. This maid insulted her mistress and ignored her duties."
No one spoke.
No one questioned.
"Execute them."
"Yes, my lord!"
The squad moved quickly.
The maid sobbed and begged as she was dragged out. The two guards tried to argue — one even opened his mouth to explain — but a glare from Ace silenced him faster than a blade.
Within moments, the room was clear again.
Still.
Lucy stood frozen in place, her heart pounding.
Ace turned to her, adjusting the cuff of his coat with casual precision.
"This is the house of Thornevales," he said quietly. "Anyone who forgets that... will regret it."
He looked around the room once more, then told Harlen.
"Send for new staff. Handpicked by you."
"Yes, my lord."
Ace turned to leave but paused at the doorway.
He glanced back at Lucy — not with warmth, but with expectation.
"You have a voice," he said. "Use it."
And then he was gone, his cloak sweeping behind him like a shadow cast by pride itself.
The room was silent again.
The guards had gone. The maid was gone. The air had settled.
Lucy remained standing for a moment, her eyes unfocused, her breath shallow.
Everything felt... distant.
Like a dream.
No—like a trance.
She looked down at her hands — still shaking — and slowly sank to her knees.
Tears spilled down her cheeks without warning. Not from pain. Not from fear.
But from the overwhelming, suffocating weight of being recognized.
For so long, she'd been invisible. A stain. An inconvenience. A name whispered only in mockery or pity.
But in just one moment, her eldest brother — the one who never spoke, never cared, never even looked at her — had changed everything.
He said her name.
He gave it meaning.
And for the first time in her life… someone stood for her.
She clutched her skirt, sobbing quietly in the silence of her plain room, the new word echoing in her mind like a prayer: Thornevale.
Meanwhile, in another wing of the manor, Ace strode through the corridor with long, purposeful steps. Harlen walked just behind him, hands folded, quiet as ever.
Ace's expression was unreadable, but his thoughts were anything but still.
Lucy Thornevale...
He hadn't expected to see her that day — not like that.
A heroine.
Lucy. Illegitimate. Overlooked. Humiliated by her family, ignored by her retainers, and eventually broken.
In the story, The hero helped her. Listened to her. Loved her.
And in return, she became one of his most loyal allies.
She gave him knowledge of the estate. Opened secret vaults. Revealed hidden routes. Even guided him through the fall of House Thornevale — step by step.
And the twins? Cedric and Cassian?
They had pushed her to the edge.
That will not happen again.
Ace halted mid-step.
"Harlen," he said.
The old butler paused beside him. "Yes, my lord?"
"Send a detachment to detain Cedric and Cassian. Effective immediately. Keep them separate. Execute their retainers."
Harlen's eyes flickered for the briefest moment.
Even he hadn't expected that.
"Understood," he said after a pause.
Harlen gave the slightest bow. "It will be done."
Ace resumed walking.
He had changed nothing with kindness.
He had rewritten a tragedy through power.
Because Lucy was not just a sister.
She was a threat.
Or an asset.
And in his story, no one would destroy House Thornevale but him — if he willed it.
By noon, the manor was in full uproar.
Cedric and Cassian Thornevale — the golden twins, favored by the courtiers and gossips alike — had been arrested within their own estate. Stripped of retainers. Dragged out of their chambers under armed escort.
The household buzzed with disbelief. Some questioned if they had heard wrong. Others were too afraid to speak at all.
Butlers whispered. Maids hurried past each other with eyes cast down.
Even among the senior staff, no one dared interfere.
No one... except her.
Lady Virelle.
The Emperor's sister. Mother of the twins.
She stormed through the halls, robes clutched in her fists, demanding an audience with the butler.
"I am their mother! You will release them at once!"
But Harlen, stoic and immovable, simply bowed.
"My lady, your command does not override Lord Ace's. Only the Duke himself may countermand his orders."
"You—!" she began, but the words caught in her throat.
She left in silence, her face pale and furious, her pride wounded.
That evening, the manor remained on edge. Doors were shut early. Conversations dropped to hushed tones. And no one saw Ace.
Not until morning.
Ace woke as the golden morning sun pierced through the towering glass panes of his chambers. He lay beneath thick, velvet sheets, eyes open long before the maid dared enter.
She stood quietly by the door, bowing.
"My lord," she said softly. "Lady Virelle is waiting outside. She… requests to see you."
Ace stretched slowly. Leisurely. Like a lion disturbed mid-nap.
He yawned, stood, and approached the vanity.
"Bring my clothes."
"Yes, my lord."
He bathed.
He dressed.
He sat for a full breakfast — grapes, honeyed bread, cured venison, and warm spiced milk — all while Virelle remained waiting behind the chamber doors.
Only once the final plate was cleared, and his gloves buttoned, did he finally speak.
"Let her in."
The double doors creaked open, and Lady Virelle swept in like a storm suppressed in lace.
She was regal, beautiful even in fury, with a long emerald gown and gold-threaded sleeves. But her eyes — bloodshot and burning — betrayed a sleepless night and an injured pride.
"You disgrace yourself," she said coldly.
Ace didn't stand.
He watched her quietly from his seat, then gestured to the empty chair opposite.
"You may sit. For now."
She ignored the chair. "You dare arrest my sons? Do you understand what you've done? Release them right now."
"Release them? " Ace said. "That's out of question."
She stepped closer. "You are not the Duke. You have no right—"
"I have his silence," Ace replied evenly. "And in this house, that is louder than any decree."
She trembled slightly, her hands balled at her sides. "You think yourself untouchable. But your name alone will not protect you forever."
Ace raised a brow, amused. "That's where you're mistaken. It's not my name protecting me. It's what I do with it."
He rose at last, stepping around the table with deliberate grace.
"You let your sons prey on a Thornevale. Your own husband's blood."
"She is a stain!" Virelle snapped. "Born of a maid! A bastard! She should never have—"
Ace's eyes glinted. "So was the late great grandfather. A bastard. Born of a scullery girl. He became the blade that none dared to go against."
Virelle's mouth snapped shut.
He stepped closer.
"I gave you a chance," Ace said. "You tried to resist. You failed."
He turned his back on her and walked to the window, looking out at the fog still hanging over the lower hills.
"Send your letters. Whisper to your brother. Beg him for help."
She froze.
"I—I don't know what you mean—"
"Do it," Ace said, smiling faintly. "I insist."