Yohan set out for House Marcano in time for lunch. The carriage bearing the crescent moon crest came to a halt before a stately old mansion.

Inside the carriage, Haman spoke.

"We have arrived, my lord. Please wait a moment."

He stepped out and headed for the mansion's main gate. After he exchanged a few words with the sentry on duty, the enormous iron gates slowly opened.

Haman approached the carriage again. Looking at him through the window, Yohan said,

"Go on back. I'll see you at the mansion."

His private meeting with Horentz might take quite some time. There was no need to keep Haman waiting here.

Haman bowed.

"Understood. Enjoy your visit, my lord."

The carriage moved again, passing through the main gate into the Marcano estate. Yohan gazed quietly out the window.

'Just as the novel described.'

House Marcano utterly rejects "ostentation."

The original novel always described the house in terms like that. Frugal. Dignified. Unostentatious. Modest. On and on it went, always emphasizing their thrift.

Its descriptions were accurate. The view outside could not have been plainer. Not even a small ornament adorned the sprawling gardens. Their natural beauty came solely from the arrangement of the trees and shrubs.

The buildings scattered about were likewise designed for utility rather than appearance. Their walls consisted entirely of neatly dressed stone, without a single elaborate decoration, and their roofs were covered in weather-resistant slate.

The estate's overall appearance was exceedingly simple. Yet it did not look impoverished. Everything fit together harmoniously, emphasizing its "frugality."

'Typical of House Marcano.'

They cared enormously about their public reputation. They never allowed themselves to appear extravagant. It was an obsession.

House Marcano had plenty of money, but no legitimacy. Its history was too short. Not even a hundred years had passed since the family had been granted a noble surname.

A family of lowly merchant origins. That label followed House Marcano everywhere. No matter how hard they tried, they could not shed it. The moment they indulged in even the smallest luxury, insults about their vulgarity inevitably followed.

House Marcano must never be ostentatious. The more wealth they displayed, the more vulgar they became. Even now, with a seat on the Council, they had failed to overcome the limitations of their origins. They had no choice but to embrace frugality.

That was what House Marcano lacked. And Yohan could supply it. Miyatro was, after all, one of the most exalted surnames on the continent. In "legitimacy" or "nobility," scarcely any house could rival it.

Yohan possessed what House Marcano desired most. The two houses would probably make good partners, each supplying what the other lacked.

As he pondered this, the carriage stopped with a jolt. The coachman addressed him.

"We have arrived, my lord."

A knock sounded, and the carriage door slowly opened. A middle-aged man in brown furs stood before it. He smiled warmly.

"A pleasure to meet you, Sir Yohan."

His identity was unmistakable. Horentz von Marcano. His appearance matched the original novel's description perfectly. Narrow eyes, neatly kept long black hair, even his unadorned clothing. Anyone who had read the novel would have taken the man before them for Horentz.

Yohan stepped down from the carriage.

"A pleasure to meet you, Viscount Marcano."

Horentz extended a hand, and Yohan took it in a handshake.

"You recognized me at once."

"You are as handsome as I've heard. It would have been difficult not to."

Horentz was certainly handsome, with a most pleasant face. He smiled brightly.

"And the Watcher of the Abyss is just as the rumors say. You have such a mature bearing despite your youth, I might say. I sense a certain spirit about you that I cannot quite place."

His narrow eyes curved as he looked at Yohan. His smile had the power to put people in a good mood. Horentz always greeted everyone with that face. He was always wearing a mask.

Yohan knew his true nature well.

'A fox of a man.'

There was always calculation behind Horentz's smile. He went to great lengths to charm people so he could devour them. His way of dealing with people always worked. His achievements proved it.

With his exceptional understanding of human nature, Horentz had risen from humble origins to his present position. His daughter Serena's Mind-Piercing Eye had played a part in his success, but he was a highly capable man in his own right. If the original novel's portrayal was accurate, at least.

Yohan returned a composed smile.

"You flatter me beyond what I deserve. All I can do is thank you for your hospitality."

"Not at all. I'm embarrassed to have prepared so little. I never expected the Watcher of the Abyss to visit so soon. Haha! Not that I'm complaining."

Yohan had visited House Marcano as soon as he arrived in the royal capital. Horentz had probably been quite surprised.

Yohan said,

"I wanted to see you as soon as possible. There is something I very much wish to discuss with you."

"My goodness. Something the Watcher of the Abyss wishes to discuss? That makes me a little nervous. Shall we talk over a light meal?"

There was no trace of tension in his expression. Horentz still wore a quiet smile.

Yohan nodded.

"I'd be delighted. I was feeling hungry, as it happens."

"Oh, then let us hurry. I'll show you to the dining room."

The two went straight inside the mansion.

* * *

An assortment of dishes was neatly arranged on the dining table. The spread was neither meager nor extravagant, simple enough while amply suited to entertaining a guest. It was quintessentially Marcano.

Horentz spoke with an embarrassed look.

"It isn't much, but please enjoy."

Yohan smiled gently.

"Not at all. It's been a long time since I had such a feast. I don't know whether you're aware of the situation in the south, but the harvest has been terrible. I haven't sat down to a meal like this in quite some time."

His words were not mere pleasantries. He meant them. The Miyatro domain was desperately poor at present. Grian's tyranny, compounded by the sudden crop failure, had left everyone struggling in misery.

Yohan had even forgone collecting this year's taxes. He was a lord in name only, and a beggar in practice. Without Count Staviana's support, he could not even have come to the capital.

Horentz spoke with a sympathetic expression.

"Truly heartbreaking. To think the land that deserves the Great Saint's love above all others is withering away. One day, the Great Saint will take heed of that suffering. Saint Marziel."

Yohan watched him for a moment, then said evenly,

"The Great Saint does not hear our prayers."

He uttered blasphemy as casually as anything. Horentz's expression stiffened slightly. He seemed somewhat taken aback. Silence fell.

After a moment, Horentz smiled and said,

"His ears are always open. One day, the Great Saint will grant all our wishes."

Yohan suppressed an inward murmur.

'He won't take the bait straightaway.'

There was only one reason he had uttered that blasphemy: so he and Horentz could get down to business without all the tiresome formalities.

Horentz did not believe in the Great Saint. He was not a follower of another faith, of course. He simply had no faith.

He loathed the ranks and social classes the Great Saint had created. He valued skill and ability above all else. Without the constraints of social status, Horentz would probably have commanded everyone's respect. Naturally, he could never voice such sentiments anywhere.

Yohan said,

"That was rather extreme of me. I apologize. I only meant that rather than waiting endlessly for the Great Saint's grace, we should strive to overcome our misfortunes ourselves."

Horentz mulled over his words and slowly nodded.

"On that point, I agree. The Great Saint himself told us to forge our own destinies rather than despair at misfortune."

Horentz was probably in genuine sympathy with what Yohan had said. Yohan spoke.

"Indeed. My reason for coming here is much the same."

He intended to get down to business. Horentz sensed his intention as well. His narrow eyes curved into even finer slits, and he spoke with a smile.

"It seems the Watcher of the Abyss wants something from me."

Yohan answered at once.

"I need House Marcano's assistance and backing."

He did not mince words. He stated his demands quite bluntly. Nobles like Yohan were rare.

Nobles were a breed who loved to dress up their desires in all manner of words, hiding their true feelings when dealing with others. They considered this a noble virtue.

Yohan was different. He disliked beating about the bush for no reason. It did not suit his temperament. Horentz found him quite intriguing.

"Since you are so direct, I shall speak frankly as well."

"Good. Please go ahead."

Horentz's narrow eyes opened a fraction. The gaze that emerged was quite sharp.

"What will the Watcher of the Abyss give me in return?"

Yohan was very pleased with the question. He replied with a calm expression.

"Myself."

Horentz fell briefly silent. After a moment, he spoke.

"In other words, you wish to become House Marcano's son-in-law?"

As expected, Horentz was someone he could talk to. Yohan smiled calmly.

"Precisely. As House Miyatro's partner, your family will share in the sacred duty of watching over the Abyss."

House Marcano lacked honor and authority. Even its unfathomable wealth could not buy genuine respect and awe from others. Across the long sweep of history, the family had never once shouldered a sacred duty.

House Marcano was merely the royal family's coffers. If someone else amassed greater wealth, the royal family could replace those coffers at any time. Horentz knew this well.

He said,

"... That is a rather sudden proposal."

He had not anticipated Yohan proposing a betrothal. No house on the Council wished to mingle its blood with the Marcanos. They considered a merchant family beneath them.

Yohan was different. No, he appeared different on the surface. There was, of course, a chance that some ulterior motive or scheme lay behind this. After all, he too was a noble from an illustrious house. Such people were adept at concealing their true intentions.

Yohan studied Horentz's expression closely, then spoke.

"You need not decide right now. I'll give you time."

Horentz remained silent for a long while. Lost in thought, he finally spoke slowly.

"I would like to ask my daughter how she feels. Would you care to meet her? Right now, I mean."

Yohan let out a quiet chuckle.

'Well, look at that.'

He shrugged and said,

"Certainly. But promise me one thing."

"What is it?"

Yohan's expression settled into calm composure.

"Please make sure to tell your daughter not to use the Mind-Piercing Eye on me."

At once, Horentz's face froze. Almost no one in the world knew about Serena's Mind-Piercing Eye.