A Mastermind? No, I'm just the Live-In Son-in-Law-Chapter 162: Disposal
Several hours had passed since Whitney and Hestia left the room.
“So, what did the investigation turn up?”
“My apologies. We combed through every inch of the place with the utmost scrutiny, but... we found nothing of note.”
At the estate’s grand front hall, the Paladin Commander saluted and reported to Hestia, who had been waiting there.
“Then if we’re done here, would you kindly get out of my house now?”
At that moment, a cold voice rang through the entryway—Meredia’s.
“We were planning to leave anyway.”
“...Saintess, but—”
The Commander’s eyes widened at Hestia’s calm nod, and he moved to stop her, but her tone was firm.
“As long as no evidence has been uncovered, staying here any longer will only be problematic for us.”
“...However, the solid proof—”
“I’m beginning to wonder if it’s even real to begin with.”
Hestia’s follow-up made the Commander glance around nervously. Despite his large frame, he hunched in close to her and whispered into her ear.
“According to the priests’ analysis, it’s undeniably genuine. The ring contains House Embergreen’s unique amber-colored mana...”
“......”
“That’s why I believe we must question the Lady of the House before leaving.”
The Commander, despite hours of searching and getting nowhere, hadn’t lost his persistence.
“Let’s not.”
“...Pardon?”
But Hestia firmly shook her head.
“We can’t afford to reveal our only trump card so carelessly.”
“......”
“For example, if we were to show her the Duke’s ring now, she may be startled—but that alone wouldn’t serve as evidence. In fact, it’s more likely she already prepared a replica.”
“Tch...”
“If we expose the ring now, we risk losing the only concrete proof we have—and we may never get another chance to confront her.”
Her reasoning was sound. After all, the very reason the Holy Theocracy accepted the ring as authentic was because of its trace of “amber mana”—a unique signature of House Embergreen.
Which meant, if Meredia truly bore the Embergreen bloodline, it was entirely feasible she could craft a replica with the same exact properties.
And if that happened, not even the Theocracy could definitively distinguish real from fake.
That was exactly why they had kept the evidence secret and invoked the Emperor’s authority rather than revealing the ring directly.
If Meredia were to learn what the Theocracy held as “evidence,” there would be no way to press further with the investigation.
“There’s no helping it. For now, we’ll retreat and wait for additional reports or evidence.”
“Mm...”
The Commander grunted, acknowledging her logic. Closing his eyes, he let out a sigh.
“If that is the will of the divine...”
But just as he turned to leave, he paused and looked back as if something had just occurred to him.
“...By the way, Saintess. You didn’t happen to see the Duke earlier, did you?”
“You mean not the Lady, but the Duke of Embergreen?”
“Yes, well... The thing is...”
Seeing her tilt her head in confusion, the Commander furrowed his brow and continued.
“The Holy Knights received intel not long ago indicating the Duke had entered the mansion.”
“...Is that true?”
“If Lady Meredia is uninvolved in this affair, then the previous head of the house—her father—is the more likely suspect. Shouldn’t we continue our search until we at least find him?”
Though her expression hadn’t betrayed it before, Hestia’s face noticeably darkened at the mention of the “Duke.”
“Now that you mention it... you did enter the ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) guest room earlier, didn’t you?”
“......”
Sensing her shift, the Commander pressed further.
“Saintess... the Duke wasn’t in there?”
“...No. He wasn’t.”
“Hmm. I see.”
To her surprise, the Commander simply nodded and didn’t push further.
“Very well, then. Just a routine check.”
“It’s always better to be thorough.”
“Yes, well then—”
Just as she was turning to leave, relieved, the voices of Whitney and Meredia called out behind them.
“Heading out already?”
“Haha, you all really worked hard, huh?”
Whitney and Meredia stood there, both wearing carefully crafted expressions.
“I told you already—there’s nothing suspicious in this mansion.”
“Right. Lady Meredia would never do anything shady. At least not right in front of people—Ow.”
Whitney, grinning as he joked, was silenced when Meredia stomped on his foot with a frigid smile.
“......!?”
The Paladin Commander’s face stiffened visibly.
‘What... is this feeling?’
Though he was now more of a political and command figure than a frontline fighter, the man had once been a war hero and the pride of the Paladins—undefeated in battle.
Now, that long-forgotten scar... was aching again.
‘...Something’s wrong.’
Paladins—renowned for defense and healing—rarely suffered lasting wounds.
Their armor was reinforced with divine energy, making even metal blades ineffective. And even if they were wounded, they healed inhumanly fast. Severed limbs would typically regenerate within five minutes.
In fact, those specializing in healing could recover in under ten seconds.
Because of this, Paladins were half-jokingly referred to as “Holy Undead.”
The only thing capable of leaving permanent scars on a Paladin... was black magic.
‘...Just like the one that scarred my face.’
While it’s commonly believed that black magic is weak to divine energy—true enough—few realize that divine energy is also vulnerable to corruption by black mana.
As Tiffany of Lumen Ordo once explained, divine energy is not divine in origin, but the manifestation of human will through faith. Meanwhile, black magic stems from malevolent deities.
So while divine energy can suppress dark mana, it is equally susceptible to being tainted by it.
This fact had been actively suppressed by the Theocracy, both to avoid exposing their weakness and to boost morale, since few had the power to truly counteract black magic anyway.
‘...No doubt. Something’s hidden in this mansion.’
And as a former Paladin war hero, the Commander recognized what his instincts were screaming—black magic was near.
‘No way this scar would ache like this otherwise...’
Granted, basing his suspicion on the “tingling of an old wound” made him feel like an old man predicting rain with his joints—but even so, a Paladin’s battle instincts were not to be taken lightly.
Black magic–inflicted scars often retained traces of dark mana, and according to priestly reports, could sometimes resonate with nearby black magic.
His hand moved toward the sword at his waist as he debated between following instinct or preserving decorum.
‘...Wait. Does this make any sense?’
That’s when something truly strange struck him.
‘Right now, the only ones here in the entrance hall are me, the Saintess, Lady Meredia, and Lord Whitney...’
The entrance was massive, designed to evoke grandeur, but it was wide open—no shadows, no hiding spots.
‘Then who...?’
He went through the list again: he himself? Of course not. The Saintess? Ridiculous. Meredia? Suspicious, sure—but no, she was infamous for massacring black mages. If not for that, the Theocracy would've put her on trial as a heretic long ago.
‘...That just leaves Lord Whitney?’
But that didn’t make sense either.
Whitney Ringaarden had already been triple-vetted—by the Pope, the Saintess, and the Empire itself. There were even reports of his secret meetings with Lumen Ordo.
‘Still... someone here has to be a black mage.’
And just as he began to unsheathe his greatsword—
“KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!”
A bloodcurdling scream echoed from down the corridor.
“Ghk!”
The moment it rang out, the Commander sucked in a sharp breath and charged forward before anyone could stop him.
“W-Wait!”
“...H-Hold on!”
“Oh, great.”
No one had expected such agility from a man his size—and no one managed to stop him.
***
Thud, thud, thud!
The Commander’s heavy footfalls thundered down the corridor toward the room from which the scream had come.
‘A black mage must be eliminated.’
Panting hard, he came to a stop, slamming into the wall by the guest room door.
‘Even if it’s the master of this house...’
The guest room was crowded with staff who had gathered after hearing the scream, only to scatter as the Commander burst in.
Creeaak...
Ignoring them, he reached for the doorknob with a hand trembling in anticipation.
‘...Wait a moment.’
A sudden thought made him pause.
‘Didn’t the Saintess say she already checked this room...?’
But before the question could finish forming, a horrifying sight greeted his eyes.
“Huh?”
His gaze froze.
“......H-Hiiiiik.”
A maid, having entered to clean up, had collapsed to the floor, shaking uncontrollably after discovering the Duke of Embergreen slumped inside the wardrobe like a ragdoll—eyes rolled back, tongue hanging out.
“What in the...!”
“...Sigh.”
From behind him, a cold breath whispered through the air.
“I locked that door.”
There stood Hestia, watching the Commander without the faintest flicker of emotion.
“...S-Saintess! You said you checked this room!”
“I did.”
His vision blurred as he stared at her, stunned.
“I told you... the Duke of Embergreen wasn’t in there.”
Her hand extended, releasing a cloud of gray smoke that wrapped around him.
“Because that’s not the Duke of Embergreen anymore. That’s just a corpse.”
And that... was the last thing the Commander remembered from that day.
