"Because of me, yes. I led that attack, among others, and I bear full responsibility for the deaths of those people without question," he said, confirming her words.
Hermione gnashed her teeth.
"However, I saved your life and from whatever miserable life you might have had left without me," he added.
"What do you want?" Airam asked.
Ulrich glanced at her. "I don't spend money or effort on useless things. If I took you under my wing and adopted you into my house, it wasn't out of charity. I expect something in return."
His words only made the three of them more uneasy, more wary.
"So tell me," Ulrich said, "how much do your lives weigh? Yours and your sisters'. How far are you willing to go to repay me for granting you life?"
The moment the words left his lips, Airam lunged.
The knife Ulrich had seen her hiding up her sleeve shot toward his face.
But Ulrich saw it coming from a mile away. He caught her wrist, stopping the blade a few inches from his eye.
"M—My Lord!"
The maids and knights around them rushed forward immediately, but Ulrich halted them with his free hand.
He stared at Airam as she gritted her teeth.
"Elder sister!" Esther cried, frightened, while Hermione had already stood, moving to shield her.
"Is this how you thank the one who saved you, Airam?" Ulrich asked.
Airam's eyes widened as Ulrich spoke her name.
Neither she nor her sisters had given him their names until now.
"Your protectiveness, your willingness to throw yourself into danger to protect your sisters is admirable," he said coldly. "But it will get you killed. And then you will leave your remaining sisters to face far greater darkness and violence alone. Is that what you want?"
"L—Leave her!" Hermione rushed toward him.
But she froze mid-step as a crimson barrier spell snapped into place around her, enclosing her on every side. She slammed her fists against it, but the magic didn't so much as ripple.
"Sister!" Esther cried, rushing forward and reaching out only for her hand to collide with the unseen wall.
Airam's teeth clenched at the sight, and suddenly the ground began to tremble. The walls shuddered. Even the table quivered.
Ulrich watched her for a beat before releasing her wrist and dispelling the barrier around Hermione at once.
The trembling stopped as well.
The three sisters immediately clustered together, Airam raising her knife again, her stance tight and ready.
"Do you want to live?" Ulrich asked them. "To survive in this world as the daughters of a witch, do you want your sisters to survive? Do you want to grow up with food, clothes, and a safe place to sleep?"
Silence answered him.
Ulrich's gaze turned colder.
"If you don't, then leave. Right now," he said, stepping back toward the chair across from them. "Run as far as you can, because hunters will come for you. You'll be separated, sold off to nobles, worse ones, with certain hobbies and fetishes, abused and played with until you beg for death, just to join your mother."
He adjusted his sleeves and looked up at them.
"But even that mercy won't be granted to you."
Esther had already tucked herself behind Hermione, peeking out with wide frightened eyes, while Hermione's glare had turned fearful as well. Even Airam looked less fierce now, more thoughtful, her grip tightening around the knife.
Because there were no lies in his words.
That was what happened to the daughters of witches.
"You will be tortured," he continued. "And you'll tell yourself your sisters might be doing fine but they might be suffering just as much as you, calling for your help, and the only answer you'll ever receive is cruelty beyond anything you've seen so far. Then one day, when you're finally broken and dying, your body used by men from every corner of the Kingdom, you will think back to this moment, to the day I offered you a safe haven, food, and protection."
When he finished, no one spoke.
The maids, and even some of the workers stood frozen, shocked by the blunt brutality of Ulrich's words. It was psychological manipulation, aimed clearly at three girls already drowning in grief. And yet… his words weren't wrong.
"Or you can choose to live," Ulrich said, his voice no longer quite as cold. "Under my roof. With food, clothes, a bed. You'll learn. You'll learn how to survive in this society as daughters of a witch. You'll learn how to defend yourselves against cruelty and violence. And you'll learn how to live without having to look over your shoulder every hour of the day, without staying awake at night, terrified that hunters or knights will find you."
He let another silence fall.
The three sisters looked considerably less threatened now...
Ulrich had drawn the line perfectly: the outside as the enemy, all darkness and hunger, and his side as the only light worth reaching for.
"If you choose to stay," Ulrich said, "then take back your seats. I am a man of my word. I will provide protection, food, shelter, and education above all, and no one will threaten you or dare lay a hand on you as long as you are part of the Rubenhart household."
His gaze sharpened.
"That includes me," he added. "Unless you force my hand. In that case, I'll be delighted to show you pits of nightmares even devils wouldn't wish to enter."
And then Ulrich stepped back and let them think.
The three sisters leaned in close, whispering to one another, quick, tense murmurs until their decision settled like a stone dropping into still water.
At last, they returned to their seats calmly.
Ulrich's lips curved, visibly this time.
He hadn't felt this kind of satisfaction in a long while.
"Good," he said, and pushed the books he had brought toward them. "First, you will learn the basics. You cannot be part of my household if you don't learn what nobility requires and everything else you need to know."
Silence followed however.
Not refusal but something closer to hesitation.
Their eyes went to the books… then, one by one, lifted to Ulrich as if he had placed weapons on the table instead of paper and ink.
"What is it?" Ulrich asked. "Already defying my orders?"
"W—We can't read!" Hermione snapped, glaring at him even as her cheeks flushed with humiliation.
"...."
Ulrich's stare, dead-set on her, didn't change except that he blinked once.
"You cannot read," he repeated, slower now, looking from Hermione to Esther, and finally to Airam as if waiting for either of them to deny it.
None of them did.
'The greatest and most powerful witches in the world and they can't even read?'
Ulrich was having a hard time keeping his face straight.
His silence, however, only seemed to shame them further, well, not Airam, who appeared entirely indifferent, but the other two, and Hermione in particular. She was clenching her fists so tightly on her lap that her knuckles had gone pale.
He found himself wondering if perhaps they had learned to read later in their lives. Because if they had managed to become this good with magic and spells while being completely unable to read and so unable to study, then the extent of their raw talent was, frankly, terrifying….
Regardless, Ulrich hadn't anticipated this.
He rose to his feet abruptly.
"My Lord?" Monika appeared at his side immediately.
"It seems I'll have to carve out some time to babysit," Ulrich said, casting a glance at the three of them.
Airam stared back at him with her usual murderous gaze though less significant.
"Hmph." Hermione let out a sharp little harrumph, while Esther buried her face into Hermione's back.