Chapter 150: 150 McKinney's Attitude

Chapter 150. McKinney’s Attitude

Ronin stayed at Rulans’s for a long time.

During that period, he recounted events from Stormwood Town—how they eradicated the Stormwolf, how they defeated Raisen, and more.

He also learned of recent happenings within Blackmount Keep.

The last time Ronin had visited, Rulans had asked whether he intended to strike against the Black Gold Brotherhood.

At the time, Ronin had advised against action before spring plowing, noting that Viggins’s assassination had occurred on the lands of Count Hyde—this matter demanded an explanation from Auson, not a military expedition from Blackmount.

Whether Rulans had already planned this course, or whether Ronin’s counsel had swayed him, Blackmount had sent word to Auson demanding retribution for Viggins.

Nearly two months have passed. Auson reportedly won two battles, yet failed to kill any key figures of the Black Gold Brotherhood—no decisive victory, it seemed.

After leaving Rulans, Ronin, accompanied by McKinney, paid a visit to Viggins.

Within Blackmount, Rulans now convalesced in the inner courtyard, rarely appearing; visitors came to him, not the other way around.

Viggins, having lost a leg, moved with difficulty. Thus, the duty of receiving guests fell upon the castle’s lady, Dianne, and Bretton.

Thankfully, years of experience, aided by Holwart and others, ensured the proceedings remained orderly.

“Hey, Brother Ronin!”

Bretton greeted him warmly, dressed today in a tailored tailcoat, golden mountain emblems stitched upon the shoulders—the crest of the Blackmount family.

“I heard from Holwart you’d returned. Pity I couldn’t leave to see you.”

“Receiving guests properly, so Blackmount doesn’t lose face—that’s more important.”

Ronin recalled Bretton’s words from that day. The young man before him still seemed naively pure. “You did wonderfully today.”

Bretton smiled, then gave McKinney a slight nod. “Sister.”

But McKinney’s response to Bretton was tepid—just a flat, indifferent “Mm.”

“Where’s Father?” Ronin asked.

“He’s in the study. Just now, Viscount Marven came by. They were talking.”

Ronin nodded, bid Bretton farewell, and headed toward the study.

“Ronin, why are you so courteous to Bretton?”

McKinney’s tone was sharp—clearly displeased with Ronin’s earlier demeanor.

“What’s wrong with that?” Ronin asked with a smile.

McKinney glanced left and right, ensuring the corridor was empty, then leaned close to his ear and whispered:

“I heard from Kabir—that Selina’s suicide was a conspiracy. They used underhanded tactics to frame you, and the one who benefited? Bretton.”

Ronin had no memory of how Selina died. In truth, he could barely recall anything from that day. He didn’t believe for a second there was no conspiracy.

But when he first awoke in this body, faced with that impossible situation, he had no way to break the deadlock—and the deed was done.

He had no intention of revealing his true thoughts. “Bretton probably doesn’t know the truth behind all this. He’s still just a child.”

McKinney glared. “You’re just as naive as ever.”

Ronin shrugged. “So what should I do? Go slap him twice?”

“Take back your inheritance. It was always yours!”

McKinney spoke earnestly. “Don’t worry—we’ll support you.”

Ronin paused.

She said “we.” Not just her. Likely Kabir—and others too.

Perhaps all of them resented the prospect of Bretton ascending after Rulans and Viggins died.

If Ronin took the lead, others would surely rise beside him.

“It’s still a long time, sister,” Ronin chuckled. “Our grandfather’s still strong. Father lost a leg, but barring accident, he’ll live another twenty or thirty years. Maybe by then, you and I will both have died in some accident?”

He shrugged. “What’s the point of fighting over this?”

“You really… can’t even speak properly?”

“Who in their right mind wishes death upon themselves so young?”

McKinney, hearing this, reached out and seized Ronin’s ear—just as she had when he was a boy.

They spoke a while longer, then entered the study to see Viggins.

Compared to last time, though still confined to his wheelchair, Viggins’s spirits had improved greatly. He smiled again as they talked.

According to McKinney, since losing his leg, Viggins’s temper had softened considerably. Their conversations were far more harmonious.

Ronin felt it deeply.

Once, Viggins had been ready to kill him on a whim. Now, he was almost… pleasant to look at.

They say when you lose something, you gain something else. Had Viggins traded a leg for a quieter disposition?

After leaving Viggins’s study, McKinney went off to converse with her friends.

Ronin knew few nobles, and his former companions had been no great shakes. He had no desire to socialize, so he decided to return to his quarters and rest.

But as he stepped out of the great hall, someone called out.

“Hey, Ronin!”

A slightly plump boy waved enthusiastically. “When did you get here?”

Ronin frowned, studying the newcomer. Only when the boy drew closer did he recognize him.

Malik of the Green family from Lakeside Town—the boy Ronin had saved from death on the road to Stormwood.

He remembered Malik being lean then. How had he grown so stout in just five months? And why was he bundled up so thickly? From afar, he’d been unrecognizable.

“Just arrived.”

Ronin smiled in greeting. “Why are you alone?”

“My parents took Marina to visit Viscount Dennis. I got bored and wandered around.”

As he spoke, he scrutinized Ronin up and down. “It’s been half a year. You look much better. But aren’t you cold? You’re wearing so little.”

Ronin glanced at himself—two undergarments, a single outer coat. He felt no chill.

He was reminded of his school days, when classmates would proudly freeze, refusing extra layers just to appear “stylish.”

He teased: “Malik, you’re young—how can you not endure a little cold? Wearing less makes girls think you’re strong. Makes them fall for you.”

“Really? Is that true?”

Malik believed him wholeheartedly—after all, Ronin had always been a master at winning girls’ hearts.

He wondered whether he should shed his goose-down coat, swap it for something lighter, more form-fitting.

Ronin laughed—he’d only been joking. He hadn’t expected Malik to take him seriously.

He changed the subject. “Last time you and your sister were attacked—did your father uncover any leads on the culprits?”

Ronin now held the confession of the Shadow Assassin—explicitly naming Raisen as the one who hired the killers to target Malik and his sister.

Malik’s thoughts were pulled back.

“No, the count’s assassination hasn’t even been solved—how could they possibly investigate us?”

He shook his head, weary. “Those shadowy bastards deserve to die. Now, whenever my sister and I step outside, we need at least four or five knights trailing us. It’s suffocating!”

“That’s because your father cares about your safety—you ought to understand his feelings.”

Germann had already endured the loss of a son and a daughter. Now, in middle age, if anything happened to his remaining children, the Germain family would have no heir. He would never allow such a thing.

Surely, Germann despised the killer with every fiber of his being.

If Ronin exposed that it was Rayson behind all this, he would surely earn Germann’s support.

“Should I hint at it in advance?”

Hinting in advance meant cultivating goodwill—so when Ronin made his request, the man would lend a helping word.

Yet, recalling Germann’s attitude during their trip to Lake Town, Ronin dismissed the notion.

“Perhaps I should simply warn my grandfather ahead of time,” Ronin thought to himself.

(End of Chapter)