Chapter 568: What happiness
Beatrice nibbled on a grape before bringing the next one to Strax’s lips.
Her eyes watched him intently, as if trying to decipher a chessboard.
“So…” she began, twirling the bunch of grapes between her fingers, “what’s the next plan?”
Strax opened one eye lazily, then closed it again. “Plan? I don’t have much to do right now. I’m tired.”
Beatrice raised an eyebrow. “Tired…? You made half the women in this house want to rip your mother’s head off, and on top of that, you turned the most powerful man in the world against her. That’s ‘not having much to do’?”
He smiled slightly. “The problems have been solved… at least the ones that mattered to me. Now I just need… to rest.”
Monica, who was sitting in the armchair next to him, swirled her wine glass slowly before taking a sip.
“Resting is dangerous,” she said, her tone somewhere between warning and provocation. “Especially with that woman upstairs… isolated in her room.”
Strax opened his eyes this time, as if pulling on an uncomfortable memory. He sighed. “It’s true…”
“You’ve been sighing a lot, haven’t you? Did you remember something?” Beatrice asked, leaning forward slightly.
“Samira’s sister.” He said this with an almost disinterested calm, but the weight in the air increased slightly.
Monica put her glass down on the table, leaning forward. “That Duke Blazer… he’s quite capable of coming after her himself.”
Strax just nodded. “Possible… But with my mother back… I think only a god would be able to stand up to her.”
His smile became almost lazy. “If something goes wrong, we have enormous help.”
Monica looked at him for a few seconds, then looked away to a corner of the room. More specifically, to a pair of boots leaning there.
“Speaking of enormous help… your mother brought that,” she pointed with her chin. “What exactly is it?”
Strax turned his head to look. His smile turned into an almost imperceptible gesture of satisfaction. “That… was the feet of the Messenger God Hermes.”
There was a moment of silence.
Beatrice blinked slowly, unsure if she had heard correctly.
“Feet…? Literally?”
“Yes,” Strax confirmed, as if commenting on something trivial, like the weather. “She ripped them off.”
Monica grimaced. “I had to pull two feet out of that thing. No… two divine feet. Do you have any idea how hard it is to clean blood off a god? That stuff doesn’t come off even with magic.”
Beatrice put the grape aside, resting her elbow on the arm of the sofa. “So… your mother ripped Hermes’ feet off… and brought them here. Is that the kind of gift you usually exchange?”
Strax gave a half-smile, closing his eyes again. “For her, it is.”
Monica was still staring at the boots as if they were about to bite someone. “Well… if she’s at that level now, everyone had better think twice before entering this house.”
Beatrice, on the other hand, seemed to be thinking further ahead. “Hermes… is no small thing. A messenger god… fast, cunning… If she managed to do that to him…”
“…then imagine what she would do to any duke.” Strax added, his voice calm, almost a whisper.
Monica leaned back in her chair, letting out a sigh. “Still… Hermes isn’t known for fighting to the death. He must have tried to escape.”
“And even so…” Beatrice commented, with a slight shiver, “she ripped his feet off.”
Strax smiled slightly. “That’s why I’m resting. With her here… I don’t have to worry too much.”
“You say that as if she were a shield, but from what I’ve seen…” Monica glanced sideways, “she’s not exactly willing to protect all of us.”
He stretched out on the sofa, resting his head more comfortably on Beatrice’s lap. “She doesn’t have to protect all of you. She just has to protect me. Once she realizes that you are my well-being, she will protect you too.”
Monica snorted. “Modest as always.”
Beatrice picked up another grape and held it in front of his mouth. “And what are you going to do… while the world outside decides whether to fear or attack this house?”
Strax bit into the grape, chewing slowly before replying, “The same as always. Wait for them to come. I’m not looking for trouble anymore, I’m very happy with my beautiful wives.”
“What if they come with too much force?” Monica insisted.
He opened his eyes, and in that instant his gaze was more serious. “If they come on too strong… they’ll get a taste of hell.”
Silence reigned for a few seconds. The distant sound of footsteps upstairs—heavy, measured—broke the calm.
Monica looked up, as if she could see through the ceiling with her eyes. “Speaking of her… do you think she’ll leave the room anytime soon?”
“No,” Strax replied without hesitation. “She’s… getting ready. She probably wants to talk to Samira, but doesn’t know how to start. People who grew up being spoiled by their own power are lost when they encounter indifference. And now, Samira simply doesn’t care about her… it scares her.”
He paused briefly, his tone more thoughtful. “What still intrigues me is this sudden desire to get closer to her sister. I don’t think Samira would lie to me about that. From what I know, she was an arrogant jerk who treated Samira like trash when they were kids.”
Strax was still leaning back, staring at the ceiling, when he heard firm footsteps in the hallway. They weren’t like his mother’s—heavy and full of presence—but rather faster, more determined, almost angry.
The door opened unceremoniously and Samira entered, her hair tied back haphazardly and her expression tense.
“Strax…” she called, in a tone that betrayed urgency. “You need to go outside. Now.”
He raised his eyebrows but didn’t get up right away. “And why?”
She just pointed her chin toward the balcony. “Look.”
Beatrice and Monica looked at each other before following his gaze. Strax got up slowly, walked to the window, and pulled back the curtain with a lazy movement.
The smile that formed on his face was anything but tired. In the distance, against the golden and red sky of dusk, columns of black smoke rose—and between them, the bright glow of flames engulfing the entire Vorah mansion.
He stood silent for a few seconds, just watching the scene as if appreciating a work of art.
Then he let out a low, almost satisfied laugh:
“…what happiness.”
Beatrice, behind him, widened her eyes. “You’re happy about this?!”
Monica just pressed her lips together. “I’m not going to lie… I’m also curious to know who started it.”
Samira crossed her arms, still serious. “Whoever it was… it won’t stop there.”
Strax turned to her, the smile still on his face. “I know exactly who it was.”
He looked again at the burning horizon. “And, honestly… I expected it to take less time for this to happen.”