Lucas's steps were heavy but steady, one shoulder carrying the Great Hoe, the other a common hoe from the storeroom. Dust clung to his clothes, his hair greasy with sweat, his face haggard like a beggar.
Silvara shot him a suspicious glance.
"Why are there two hoes now?"
Lucas only raised his eyebrows, answering flatly.
"Hoes are cheap. I bought another when you were gone. Is that a problem?"
Silvara snorted, her gaze sharp but she said nothing more. They walked together back toward the manor.
Along the way, the villagers' eyes stuck to Lucas's filthy body. Whispers spread quickly, their faces even looking relieved, as though this was entertainment.
"Look, Young Master Voss… finally the Baron's strict with his son."
"Serves him right, being made to work."
"Hahaha, spoiled brat, now he knows his place!"
Lucas lowered his head slightly, unbothered, knowing that the one they spoke of was already a dead soul. Still, he kept walking.
As they passed Geralt's house, the wooden door swung open. A woman appeared—mature, beautiful, her figure slim but clearly grown. Her eyes were clear, her movements calm. Her face carried a motherly aura that was also alluring.
Lucas paused, his eyes instinctively drawn to the line of her neckline.
"Don't you dare mess with Healer Mae!" Silvara's voice froze his steps, her glare piercing cold. "She's the only healer willing to stay in this village. If you disturb her, the whole village could die without treatment."
Lucas cleared his throat, quickly looking away. "Tch, who'd bother her anyway."
Silvara only scoffed cynically, then walked on.
When they reached the manor, Lucas, still filthy, entered the hall at once. But his steps halted when he saw two men in gray suits heading into the Baron's study. Their faces sly, their steps full of false confidence.
Silvara clicked her tongue, her expression dark.
"Those damned moneylenders again."
Despite his filthy state, Lucas slipped in as well, standing behind the great door and pressing his ear to it.
Silvara growled softly. "This is improper. Don't interfere."
"Shut up. Let me listen first," Lucas replied stubbornly. He set down the common hoe from his left shoulder first, then lowered the Great Hoe from his right.
Inside, the heavy voice of a moneylender rang clearly.
"Baron Voss, time is up. You have no money. Then, as agreed… we will take the Baroness as collateral."
Lucas's eyes widened. His blood boiled.
"Bastards…" he muttered.
His fists clenched, his mind a mess—half from exhaustion, half from Lucian's impulsive brain. Suddenly, without thinking, he kicked the door hard.
BANG!
The door nearly tore off its hinges. Everyone in the room was startled. Lucas strode in, face dirty with dust, the Great Hoe raised high.
"BASTARDS, GET OUT OF HERE!" he shouted.
Baron Voss was shocked. "Lucian! Don't interfere—"
The first moneylender chuckled. "Oh, Young Master. Don't meddle in adults' affairs."
The second sneered. "Baron, your son needs a lesson in manners. Beat him down, let him know his place."
His eyes slid toward the Baroness, pale beside her husband. "What a waste for such beauty to rot in this backwater. If only she were in the city…"
Lucas's face burned red.
Silvara stood alert behind him, whispering tensely. "Don't! If you lay a hand on them, the Voss family is finished!"
The first moneylender leaned forward, his voice mocking.
"What use is the Young Master to this family? Better to enjoy youth, since you're worthless anyway."
Lucas's eyes flashed. A thin grin spread—not a confident smile, but the twisted grin of a degenerate everyone already knew.
He lowered his head, breathing heavily, then slowly knelt. His fingers brushed the handle of the Great Hoe like a thief trying to open a safe. But secretly, his wrist twisted the wooden shaft to the right—a small movement, almost invisible.
Click.
In an instant, its weight surged sharply. Veins bulged on his arms, but his face remained flat, feigning laziness. Slowly, he let the handle fall to the floor.
THUD!
The wooden floor trembled, the echo of its weight pressing the air itself. Every gaze locked on the hoe—something they had always thought of as a worthless, cheap, dirty hoe.
Lucas grinned. "Hey, idiots, you like gambling, right? Lift this hoe from the floor. If you can, take my land however you want."
Baron Voss immediately protested, face pale. "Lucian!! What are you doing?!"
But Lucas stood calmly, arms crossed over his chest. "If you can't… extend the debt's deadline by two months."
The two moneylenders burst into laughter, bending over. "HAHAHA! What kind of wager is this?"
One of them raised an eyebrow. "But… to honor the noble Young Master, let's put it in writing."
Casually, he walked to the Baron's desk, took the quill and ink. On a blank sheet, he scribbled quickly, his voice dripping with mockery.
"Agreement: if the moneylenders can lift Young Master Lucian's hoe, they may claim the pledged land. If they fail, House Voss's debt is postponed two months."
He pushed the paper toward the Baron. "Seal it with your signature."
The Baron trembled, face pale. "Lucian… what are you—"
"Just sign it, Father!" Lucas shouted.
"See? Your eldest son insists. Just sign!" the moneylender echoed, sneering.
The Baron's hand shook above the quill, sweat dripping down his temple. Beside him, the Baroness instinctively covered her mouth with both hands. Her eyes widened, shimmering with tears—not only in shock, but disbelief. The son who had always been the family's disgrace was now standing bold against the moneylenders.
Why is he causing more trouble… Oh God, is it because I forgot to give him money again today? her heart trembled.
The first moneylender grabbed the hoe's handle, veins bulging. His face reddened, his body shook. "Uuughhh… can't… move it…!" Sweat poured until at last he stepped back, panting hard.
The second sneered. "Coward." He stepped forward, trying with both hands.
"Hhhrrghhh!!!" His face nearly burst, but the hoe clung to the floor as if nailed down. He staggered backward, his breathing ragged.
"Trickery! You cheated, Young Master!" they both shouted.
Lucas burst out laughing, his tone full of scorn.
"HAHAHA! Remember, a bet's a bet! You failed, which means House Voss's debt is delayed for two complete months!"
The Baron, the Baroness, even Silvara were stunned.