Chapter 168

Chapter 168

Classical music drifted gracefully from the strings. Well-heeled noble ladies engaged in cheerful conversations while elegant gentlemen walked alongside them. Beautiful young people, like silver butterflies, unfurled the charm and talent of aristocratic elites at their own banquet, swirling amid a steady stream of praise and flattery.

Only one person was an exception.

Frank stood motionless in a corner of the grand hall, clutching a wine glass, his expression cold and rigid. Only his eyes moved, tracking every passerby.

"Why such a bitter expression, Captain?" Alice played with her wine glass, looking down. "It’s the Prime Minister’s birthday banquet. Even if it’s just for show, you should at least put on a smile."

She didn’t fully understand Frank’s relationship with the Medici family, but his striking silver hair, blue eyes, and resemblance to a certain young master already told part of the story.

Ludwig had never liked her getting too chummy with Frank. His background was complicated, and showing too much favor or disdain could easily provoke dissatisfaction from the Medici family. Yet, as people came and went around him, all clearly curious but pretending not to notice, Alice watched for a long time and couldn’t bear it any longer. She broke away from Ludwig and approached him.

"Can’t force one," Frank replied stiffly.

"If you’re unwilling, why come here to make yourself miserable, Captain? Since when have you become so guarded?"

Used to Frank’s mature and gentle demeanor, this was the first time Alice had seen him so tied up in knots. She shook her head helplessly, even setting the exquisite crystal glass she had been toying with aside, placing it upside down on the gilded table nearby.

"No one likes to suffer needlessly. So, Captain, why are you here? To get straight answers about your background, or to question the Medici family, who pride themselves on valuing bloodline, about why they abandoned you for so many years?" Alice asked. "I heard it was little... uh, Eve who brought you here. What kind of deal did you two make?"

"......"

After training under the Oliver family and at the First Empire Academy, Alice was no longer the sly but naive girl she once was.

A series of clear and logical questions were thrown at him. Frank knew that Alice’s Spiritual State was related to mental manipulation, so lying was useless. After a moment of silence, he said directly, "Sorry, Alice, this is a private matter. Perhaps it’s better if you don’t know."

Alice raised an eyebrow, about to say something, when a drawling voice abruptly cut in: "So you do know your affairs are disgraceful and too shameful to talk about. Then how dare you show up here?"

The crisp sound of leather shoes came to a halt. Cecil stood with his arms crossed, maintaining a careful five-step distance from Frank as if guarding against something filthy.

Alice reacted swiftly. Before the words had even settled, she stepped in front of Frank with a sweet, friendly smile. "Cecil, long time no see. Looking for me?"

Her interruption was sudden, drawing quite a few glances. In the distance, Ludwig, who had been chatting with others, sighed inwardly, quickly excused himself from the pink-suited young man beside him, and strode over.

Additionally, the First Steward, who had been standing silently in the shadows nearby, slightly rustled her silver-gray cloak. Her smoke-gray eyes shifted toward the scene.

As fellow students who saw each other often at school, Cecil still retained some courtesy toward Alice. "This has nothing to do with you."

"But I need to talk to you," Alice said with a smile. "There are some matters in the department that need finalizing. Mind stepping aside for a moment?"

Cecil frowned. "You can discuss that when we return to school next week. This isn’t work hours."

"Alright, Alice, tend to your own matters," Frank finally spoke. His light blue eyes, usually like wistful smoke, turned sharp and cold as they fixed squarely on Cecil. "The Medici young master is here for me."

Alice also knew this was an internal matter of the Medici family, and her butting in would seem odd. Seeing Frank decline her help, she pursed her lips and went quiet.

Ludwig, his brows tightly furrowed, pulled her aside and sneered, "I told you to stay out of it. Now you’ve been shut down."

"Who says I was shut down? Buzz off!"

With the extra people gone, Cecil took two steps closer. As his voice lowered, his words grew increasingly harsh: "You’re quite popular with women. First, you rely on Eve to sneak in, then you have Alice stand up for you. As expected from someone who’s street-raised. Who knows where you picked up these tricks."

"Only the esteemed young master of the Medici family can say such things with such condescension. Whether it’s relying on looks or something else, as long as it gets me what I want, I see no reason to feel ashamed."

Instead of anger, the direct insult steadied Frank. Perhaps, for a mercenary, biting, hurtful words were easier to take than a hall full of well-dressed elites.

Mocking himself inwardly for still struggling to adapt to the good life, he took a sip of wine and smiled calmly. "Besides, didn’t the Medici family rise to power through marriages? Given our somewhat similar appearances, you could try the same—if anyone’s willing to pay, that is."

Cecil scoffed. "So self-degrading."

"You probably couldn’t even debase yourself if you tried," Frank curled his lips maliciously. He and Alice and Eve were just friends, but the thought of humiliating Cecil made him itch to provoke. "Do you know how I first met Eve? On Black Star. Seems I’m not the only one who thinks the Medici family isn’t so great. But since I managed to get close to her, it must not be about looks."

Eve’s past act of faking her death to escape family arrangements had always been a sore spot for Cecil. Frank’s mention of it made his face instantly darken. "You have a death wish?"

The gem on his ring flashed with light, but before it could reach Frank, it was intercepted by a flaring silver-gray cloak.

Frank stepped back, surprised that Cecil would actually attack out of anger. Eve had said he had a nasty temper—turned out she was right. Thankfully, the First Steward had been watching nearby.

"Young Master Cecil," the cloak fluttered down, its movement so swift it was unclear whether it concealed a person or a ghost. The First Steward warned hoarsely, "This is the Family Head’s birthday banquet. Please restrain your temper."

The clash ended in an instant, drawing little attention. Cecil retracted his ring and shot Frank a final cold glare.

Once Cecil had stormed off, Frank set down his glass and said politely, "Thanks for stepping in, Steward."

He still disliked the Medici family, but since the First Steward had just saved him, his tone softened.

The silver-gray cloak swayed as the First Steward turned. "The young master has always been this way, overly pampered by the Family Head. I hope you won’t hold a grudge."

"Why would I hold a grudge?" Frank laughed. "His dislike is natural. I’m not fond of this Medici family either."

Frank’s words carried a straightforward honesty, devoid of resentment. Beneath the cloak, the First Steward seemed to want to say something, but after a slight movement of her lips, she fell silent again. Hoarsely, she said, "Come with me to see the Family Head. You won’t find the answers you want here."

"You know why I’m here?"

The First Steward seemed disinclined to talk. Faced with Frank’s questions, she turned silently, her back serving as a wordless reply:

What difference does it make if I know or not?

......In the end, you’ll still have to follow obediently, dancing to their tune.

Frank clenched his teeth, his handsome face tense. After a moment, he followed the First Steward.

Family Head Oliver had already left earlier after discussing how to handle the aftermath of the Flying Bird case. The First Steward knocked firmly on the lounge door, and soon the snow-white door slid open automatically. Frank immediately saw Medici Patriarch standing before a mirror, fussing with his collar.

"Come in."

From the corner of the mirror, Sparti noticed the young man following the First Steward. His silver-white hair was tied high, fully revealing a strikingly handsome face. In terms of appearance, he indeed resembled both Sparti and Cecil.

His formal attire had been prepared by the Medici family’s chief designer. Sparti had even seen it before, thinking Eve had invited a favored companion. He never expected she’d bring Frank back.

Mischievous child. Vincent Oliver was right about one thing—Eve was indeed a difficult child to discipline and control.

Sparti had little interest in Frank. Keeping him alive was merely out of respect for others. After seeing the visitor, he lost interest and and turned his attention back to the rare moon-white gem on his tie clip, asking casually, "It’s you, child. What brings you to me?"

Before coming, Eve had told Frank that his real parents might be someone other than Medici Patriarch. Frank had been skeptical about this. If nothing else, his face alone made it hard for anyone to believe he had no relation to the Medici father and son.

But Sparti’s indifferent attitude made him doubt his initial assumptions.

Should he bring up the question directly now? Frank rubbed his temples irritably, then said slowly, "Good evening, Prime Minister. I’ve heard that I am..."

But before he could finish, Sparti cut him off abruptly: "No need to hear anything. That’s not the case."

"You are indeed a child of the Medici family, but not my biological descendant," Sparti said lazily. "Your father was a self-righteous, foolish, and arrogant man, and he is the one who gave you this bloodline. As for your mother, you’re not in a position to know her whereabouts. Anything else you want to ask?"

The answers to the questions that had troubled him for years came so easily, leaving Frank stunned. It took him a long while to find his voice again: "Then why did you send people to find me in the past, say those things, and disrupt my peaceful life?"

"I’m clearly not your child. No, no, I’ve seen you," Frank grew increasingly agitated. Suddenly, he clutched his head and crouched down, letting out a pained cry, as wounded as a lost young wolf, startling the First Steward beside him. "I remember you. You were the one who took my mother."

He remembered.

It was from a very young age, about seventeen years ago, when Frank was still living on the *Feiniao* with his mother. Because Zuo Qirong had successfully used his daughter’s ties to the Medici family, his attitude toward the two of them was relatively decent. That period was one of the few happy times in Frank’s life.

His gentle mother was still alive, his grandfather was still kind, and he was the most esteemed young master on the *Feiniao*. Every day, he would run and play with Eugene on the vast starship. Other space pirates would respectfully step aside upon seeing him, smiling and calling him "Little Boss."

Until one day, a strange man arrived on the *Feiniao*. He had the same beautiful silver hair as Frank, dressed extravagantly but with an anxious expression. After speaking privately with Frank’s mother, he left as mysteriously as he had arrived. Not long after, Frank’s mother, the Zuo family’s eldest daughter, passed away from a sudden illness.

Frank’s life took a sharp downward turn from that point. He eventually left the *Feiniao*, registered as a mercenary, then left that life behind to join the Luo Corporation and become a supervisor with some standing. The passage of over a decade finally allowed him to glimpse a thin thread—one pull, and all the years of endurance and suffering would be strung together.

"So you’ve already met that fool," Sparti sighed, finally turning around to face the child who shared his bloodline, his tone laced with pity. "What you saw back then wasn’t me, but my twin brother—your biological father. To avoid leaving any stains, it’s absolutely impossible for me to have any connection with someone like Zuo Qirong. As for why I’ve been monitoring your life all these years..."

Sparti smiled faintly. "After all, you are also a child of the Medici family, the only bloodline of my elder brother. In fact, you even qualify as a contender for the inheritance. By emotion or reason, I should care about you."

"...Disgusting."

Frank’s voice was hoarse.

"Is that so? Luo Lin said the same thing. That’s why both of you are merely failed competitors, eliminated early," Sparti shrugged, unbothered by the younger generation’s verbal attacks. "Enough of that. After all these years apart, would you like to see your father? He died long ago. Perhaps seeing his grave might lift your spirits."

"I don’t want to see him. Alive or dead, it makes no difference. I came here for only one thing—where is my mother now?"

Sparti remained silent, merely smiling at him, his clear blue eyes filled with tolerance and understanding. Frank understood this as a silent refusal.

He curled his lips, unwilling to have any further connection with this twisted, cold family, and turned to leave.

As he passed by, the First Steward, who had remained silent since entering, seemed to glance at him. But Frank was in too much of a hurry to notice this faint, fleeting glance.

The lounge returned to silence. Sparti picked up the cup on the table, which contained health-boosting herbal tea. As he aged and his workload increased, he had no choice but to pay attention to his health early.

He blew on the steaming surface of the cup, his lips barely touching the tea when he heard the woman’s low sigh. "You shouldn’t have provoked him like that."

"You feel bad for him?" Sparti didn’t even look up. "I told you back then, I could have brought both of you back to the family. It was you who asked me to let him go. Now you’re feeling sorry for him? How strange."

"Parents who love their children plan for their long-term future."

With no one else left in the lounge, the First Steward finally removed her hood. Under the bright lights, her jet-black shoulder-length hair and melancholic smoke-gray eyes were revealed. Her earlobes were adorned with large earrings engraved with Alchemical Ciphers. Unlike her hoarse, mature voice, her face was delicate and youthful, with an old, faded scar on her neck.

She adjusted the cloak at her collar and said softly, "The wealth and power of the Medici family are more than Frank can handle. Rather than becoming a caged bird with broken wings, I’m glad to see he has grown into a reliable adult."

"What noble maternal love," Sparti clapped his hands mockingly. "Something to learn from."

First Steward: "..."

She was already a woman of few words, and Sparti’s dismissive response made her even less inclined to speak. Instead, she opened the window, quietly letting the night breeze brush against her face.

Outside, the bright lights never ceased, and the majestic palaces rose and fell in the distance. The noble families born into privilege had, for generations, confined themselves within these walls—like the exquisite *clematis* climbing the carved railings, growing in spite of the pain.

-

Publicly humiliated by Frank, Cecil was in no mood to put on a pleasant face. After hastily handing over the approaching guests to the Third Steward, he left the banquet hall.

Unexpectedly, as soon as he stepped out, he ran into another headache.

Eve’s expression was even darker than his. Just moments ago, she had been smiling politely behind Sparti, but now her eyes were sharp enough to kill. It was unclear who had provoked her, but Cecil swallowed hard and instinctively asked, "What are you doing here?"

"None of your business?" Eve frowned, glancing at him. "I should be asking you. Get out of my way."

She tried to step past him, but Cecil deliberately stepped on the hem of her gown.

"..." Eve swore she would never wear such a useless dress again—pretty but impractical. When pushed to the extreme, anger could indeed make one smile. Her lips curled into a murderous arc. "Are you insane?"

Cecil ignored her question and asked instead, "Did Father talk to you about the end-of-semester league competition?"

Eve: "He did. So? Do you want to swap intel?"

If that was really why he was blocking her, Eve could understand. After all, Sparti had made it clear that only one of them could remain. Being treated this way by his own father, it was natural to feel disbelief.

Cecil sneered, "No need. I just wanted to confirm."

The rules of the Medici family had always been this way. No matter how much Sparti seemed to favor his eldest son, Cecil had never expected an exception in this matter. After all, Sparti’s principle had always been family above individual.

Rather than hoping for preferential treatment from others, it was better to strike first and eliminate the competition. But Cecil, who had only just decided to take down Luo Lin, had no idea that things would soon grow far more complicated, even changing the competitors entirely.

"We didn’t have to come to this," he said coldly, his gaze sweeping over Eve’s face. "I was conflicted at first, but seeing how indifferent you are, I no longer feel any hesitation."

Since there was no turning back, there was no need to hold back.

"Is that so?" Eve flicked her hair. "Then should I say I’m excited to see this change in you, to encourage my detestable rival?"

What a joke. Only now was he realizing how hostile their relationship was? With that kind of thinking, he still wanted to compete for the family head position? He was the one truly suited to be married off for an alliance.

"You’ve never understood the situation. At first, when the family head arranged for me to be your fiancée, you started harboring unrealistic fantasies. That’s because you believed every arrangement he made was wise and perfect. Later, it became simpler—what you couldn’t have became the best. That’s why you developed this inexplicable obsession with me."

"Cecil, you’ve always idealized the path you never took. But such behavior has nothing to do with rationality," Eve unsheathed her sword and, with a swift motion, cleanly cut away the trapped portion of her gown. "With such childish thoughts, you cannot defeat me, who has long since made up my mind."

Where the other path led—heaven or hell—Eve had read about in novels and tested with her own experiences. In the end, she concluded it was a one-way road to the grave.

Cecil was obsessive; she was inherently arrogant. There was never any possibility of peace between them.

The torn cream-white hem of her dress soon disappeared from sight. A moment later, Cecil heard the sound of a girl furiously venting her anger nearby. His high-level spiritual power made his senses exceptionally sharp.

He heard Eve cursing, followed by two dull thuds—likely someone unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of her wrath.

...What an awful attitude.

Cecil smirked, thinking that anyone who ended up with this venomous woman would be truly unlucky.