Chapter 4

"Don't say such strange things."

Revelation, really?

It was at best something like a premonitory dream.

While premonitory dreams didn't make sense either, he tried to think about it as rationally as possible.

Dreams are fundamentally expressions of the human unconscious.

They are latent thoughts or fantasies that one doesn't even consciously recognize, appearing during sleep.

With the castle being old, it was quite possible for wall decorations to fall.

So perhaps he had been feeling this anxiety subconsciously.

Thus, it was possible that he had dreamed such a strange dream.

But Arndt wasn't listening to a word he said.

"No, it is a revelation. Young Master, the Madam also used to have such dreams occasionally."

"By Madam, do you mean Aren... no, Mother?"

The word "mother" felt unfamiliar, causing him to stammer momentarily. But Arndt didn't seem to notice.

"Yes, that's right. I heard that the Madam used to receive such revelations often after making a vow before marrying the Duke."

"She used to have dreams like this?"

"Revelations range from the trivial to the distant future. One doesn't wish to see something specific."

"Then?"

"One simply sees what is shown. By Him."

He had wondered if there might be some mysterious setting, but the enthusiasm immediately deflated upon hearing Arndt's overwhelmingly devout belief.

'Him.'

The Him who was the foundation and origin of Hartmann was a setting that was milked in the original work.

While they believed in Him with extreme devotion, nothing was ever revealed about who exactly He was or what kind of entity He was.

That's why readers speculated that He might be a fake god or an imaginary friend created by Arndt.

Some said that since He was continuously mentioned even until the hiatus, He might be an important plot point, but to him, it just felt like an exaggerated and trivial setting.

"I didn't know Mother had dreams like this too."

"When the Hartmann Ducal family was operating, the revelations the Madam saw were of great help."

"What kind of help specifically?"

"It's a significant matter that I can't fully know. Ah, you've finally become a true member of Hartmann."

Member, my foot. What is all this nonsense?

He glared at the excited Arndt, who was subtly changing the subject, and sighed deeply.

"It might have been useful when the ducal family was intact. Otherwise, seeing anything would be pointless."

"That's a fair point. But revelations always happen fatefully..."

"There's no such thing as fate in this world, Arndt."

Arndt became dejected.

If revelations truly were fate, wouldn't they be more like natural disasters?

If the dead Duchess couldn't avoid or change the revelations she received, she wouldn't have said they were 'helpful.'

According to Arndt's explanation, revelations were glimpses into the future.

But given the current situation of the Hartmann Ducal family, revelations weren't absolute fate, and could be avoided and changed to some extent.

Even if he dreamed of a revelation about a windfall right now, the revelation would be useless if he didn't act on it.

Well, this was all strictly speaking, of course.

"Still, it's good to be able to prepare for such accidents."

"...So you do agree?"

"Yes."

In a situation where there was absolutely nothing to eat and survive on, such premonitory dreams seemed quite helpful.

Who knows?

Maybe he would have a revelation where money rained down like a shower.

Of course, that didn't mean he would waste time just waiting for revelations.

"Arndt, among the remaining items in the Duke's study, is there anything to write a letter with? I'd appreciate it if you could bring it to the reception room."

"Yes, understood."

Arndt quickly locked the banquet hall and ran to the study.

Watching him, he turned his steps towards the reception room first.

But was there any mention in the novel about the Duchess having had premonitions?

He had read the novel several times, but he couldn't recall well.

* * *

"How was your day today?"

"Until the afternoon, I generally selected areas to repair. There's a lot of damage everywhere."

"That's to be expected. With the resistance being fierce, there must have been a lot of fighting."

The dinner table was abundant with the game that Leandros had caught.

The only drawback of the table was that there was nothing but meat.

When he was younger, he had wanted to eat meat until his stomach burst, but now that he was in such a situation, it wasn't particularly delightful.

【Instead of canned tuna like this, I want to grill and eat real meat someday.】

...Well, he might have been thinking too much about being full.

He eagerly bit into the meat Arndt had cut for him.

Hot oil burst as the strong gamey smell and tough flesh rolled around in his mouth.

"Besides that, I wrote letters in the afternoon. I got some help from Arndt."

"Letters? May I ask who the recipients are?"

"To retainers."

More precisely, to the past retainers of Hartmann and collateral branches of the family.

When Hartmann was at its peak, there was a mention that the hall would be filled to capacity when regular banquets were held to invite retainers.

If there were that many retainers, perhaps at least one of them could help.

At the very least, maybe a surviving collateral branch could provide some small amount of money.

He had to take even the slightest chance.

"Have you received any replies?"

"I sent them during daylight. If they've received them, they're probably still considering."

Arndt seemed to have something on the tip of his tongue, opening and closing his mouth several times.

But under Leandros's stern gaze, he didn't speak.

"What do you plan to do if replies come?"

"We'll have to talk, won't we?"

"What do you intend to do if they challenge Hartmann?"

"I'll think about that when the time comes."

Leandros was suggesting that he should consider various possibilities.

To be honest, he felt like he could put everything but his life on the negotiating table.

But these medieval fantasies were all the same, weren't they?

The worst-case scenario would be someone trying to openly manipulate the young Duke of Hartmann, and the slightly better scenario would be a political marriage.

Both were fine with him, but judging by the expressions of the two, it seemed like he was the only one who felt that way.

"Let's rest for now. We need a break."

"Yes, we'll think about it when the reply comes."

Arndt concurred and changed the subject.

He was probably worried about making the sickly Duke, who had collapsed with a nosebleed, uncomfortable.

He nodded and diligently tore into the meat.

The next day.

"Still nothing?"

"No, it will take some time to receive the letters. Considering the travel time."

"How many days does it take?"

"Even the closest location would take about three days. You should be able to receive all the replies within a week."

"I see. It takes quite a while. I'll have to wait patiently."

Three days later.

"Still no news?"

"Ah, perhaps it's because the weather has been bad recently. It will come soon. I'll check if the postman is coming."

"Yes. Thank you for your efforts."

A week later.

"The postman still hasn't come?"

"I'll go down to the village tomorrow and check."

"Alright."

Eleven days later.

"Still nothing?"

"Yes..."

And so two weeks passed, and then two weeks and...

No, that's not quite right.

Time had lost its meaning.

He had stayed up all night watching for the postman, or even a carrier pigeon, but there was still no news.

Hartmann was being ignored.

Deliberately and blatantly,

As if it were a family that had never existed.

"Your Grace."

Arndt, who was watching him in the inner courtyard of the castle, was restless.

Naturally.

No matter how lowly a noble might be treated, they wouldn't be so disrespectful.

Even sending a perfunctory reply would be courteous,

But they had refused even the most basic etiquette.

"Please don't be too disheartened, Your Grace. Surely there's a reason..."

"I'm not angry."

"But."

"I said I'm not."

This wasn't just a conventional response.

Despite the situation, he genuinely wasn't angry.

It was to be expected.

If he were truly 'Arenheit,' he might have cried, stamped his feet, and fainted.

But he wasn't Arenheit Hartmann; He was Yu Yesung.

A deputy manager at a small and medium-sized company in a corner of Seoul, berated from above and trampled from below, being ignored while making sales calls had become a daily occurrence.

Why would he be upset about not receiving a reply from people he'd never even seen before?

"From the beginning, I was thinking if it works, that's great, and if not, so be it."

He had sensed something amiss from the moment he arrived.

Bestowing a dukedom on a child who had just come of age.

Attaching only two people who had served the former Duke and sending him back to his territory was strange in itself.

All while saying nothing about the confiscated assets.

It was natural for noble families to be cautious, still treating Hartmann as a traitor.

The royal family's tyranny hadn't ended yet.

"Let's write one more letter."

"To whom this time..."

"To the royal family. Requesting the return of the sequestered assets of the ducal family."

"Do you think that's possible?"

Arndt asked worriedly.

He just smiled.

Arndt,

Documents are not only for the actual exercise of rights but also to leave a record.

If you worked in Korea for just a year, you'd feel it deeply.

"Write a short letter with that content and send it. Ah, and where's Leandros?"

"He said he was going out to check the traps."

Every meal they had was thanks to Leandros, but they couldn't keep valuable personnel outside just for hunting.

"If he's just going out for inspection, he'll be back in the afternoon. When Leandros comes, could you tell him to come to the reception room?"

"Yes, understood."

Arndt bowed and left.

He walked around, taking a stroll in the desolate courtyard, and came inside before getting too cold.

With nothing to do, he was playing around in the reception room when there was a knock.

"Your Grace, it's Leandros."

"Come in."

Leandros had removed the black cloak he always wore.

With his long hair tied up, he looked much less threatening.

How good it looks when the flowing hair is neatly tied.

Kids these days with their loose trouser hems dragging on the ground and their hair all disheveled.

"I heard you called for me."

"...Could you go around like that from now on?"

"Pardon?"

"Ah. Nothing. Please sit down first."

Leandros looked at him with suspicion before slowly sitting in the chair opposite.

In the dusty air, only Arndt stood by his side.

"It's nothing serious, I just wanted to inform you that there's still no reply from the other families."

"I see."

"Did you expect this?"

"If it's not impertinent to say, yes."

How direct.

"It's disappointing that we can't get support from other families. But we don't even have basic capital right now."

"I believe Your Grace knows the financial situation of the castle better than anyone."

"So I've thought of a solution. Will you listen?"

"You're not seeking my agreement, are you? Please command me."

It was refreshing to talk to someone who understood without having to beat around the bush.

Was this what they called "clear and efficient communication"?

"Yes, it's nothing major, I just thought it would be good to go hunting."

"If it's hunting, we're already doing plenty. Are you referring to selling the hides?"

"Hides? I suppose if there are hides, that's a possibility."

Leandros looked at Arndt.

But Arndt had not heard about this either, so his face was probably full of question marks.

He casually threw out to both of them.

"Here, there's the closed hunting ground owned by Hartmann."

Leandros's eyes widened.

The closed hunting ground.

It would have been the cheapest land among those owned by Hartmann, but now it had transformed into the most valuable place.

"Don't you know what's in that hunting ground, Your Grace?"

"I know better than anyone."

"It's impossible."

"Why?"

"Because, naturally."

Leandros took a deep breath.

"The closed hunting ground was originally owned by Hartmann, but as of now, we've lost control over it. No one who sets foot in that 'Land of Demonic Beasts' can come out alive, Your Grace."