Chapter 332: Gathering Storms
Gathering Storms
"This guy... also has a grudge against Julian D’Aurelius?"
The thought flashed through his mind before he could stop it.
It explained far more than he had expected.
Steffan gave a cold snort before continuing.
"The last incident was Julian D’Aurelius’s doing."
"Like the kidnapping."
His tone was firm, leaving no room for doubt.
He stepped closer, locking eyes with Zyan.
"Why would I rush to act against you without curing your father?"
"If I were to act, it should be after curing your father and sister, don’t you think?"
His words were measured.
Logical.
Every sentence sounded convincing enough to plant seeds of doubt.
Zyan fell silent.
He had considered that possibility before.
Ever since everything began falling apart, something had always felt slightly wrong.
The timing...
The sequence of events...
Nothing had completely matched what he initially believed.
Even so, whenever he tried to think of another suspect besides Steffan, his mind became blank.
No one else fit.
Or rather...
No one had seemed more likely.
Now, hearing Steffan explain everything so confidently, uncertainty quietly crept into his heart.
Then another thought struck him.
His eyes widened almost imperceptibly.
"So..."
"You really intended to make a move against the Ashbourne household?"
The realization sent a chill down his spine.
Steffan didn’t answer directly.
The faint smile on his face was answer enough.
Zyan’s throat tightened.
His instincts screamed that the man before him was dangerous.
Far more dangerous than anyone he had ever met.
But...
His own life rested entirely in Steffan’s hands.
No matter what thoughts raced through his mind, he buried them deep inside.
He forced a stiff nod.
"I understand."
His voice sounded dry.
Weak.
He didn’t dare provoke Steffan any further.
Seeing him submit, Steffan’s expression softened ever so slightly.
"So..."
"We need to cooperate now."
He folded his arms behind his back as he spoke calmly.
"Otherwise, if that beast Julian D’Aurelius helps your sister cure your father..."
"The position of household head will belong to her."
Those words pierced straight through Zyan’s heart.
His breathing stopped for a moment.
That was the outcome he feared more than anything.
If Felberta Ashbourne cured Dario Ashbourne...
If she earned his gratitude...
Then everything would be over.
The position he had fought so desperately to obtain would disappear forever.
He would become nothing more than a joke within the Ashbourne household.
The thought alone made his chest tighten painfully.
His expression gradually hardened.
The hesitation in his eyes slowly disappeared.
Replacing it...
Was ruthless determination.
He slowly raised his head to look directly at Steffan.
"Steffan..."
"What do you suggest?"
A satisfied smile appeared on Steffan’s face.
The fish...
Had taken the bait.
"It’s simple."
"They’re going to treat your father, right?"
"We’ll make our move then."
His voice remained calm, as though he were discussing an ordinary business arrangement instead of a murderous conspiracy.
"As long as your father dies..."
"The responsibility will fall on them."
"After you become the head of the Ashbourne household..."
"You can kill them to avenge your father."
A faint smile curved across Steffan’s lips.
His proposal was simple.
Elegant.
Cruel.
For an instant...
The entire clearing fell silent.
Zyan’s pupils suddenly contracted.
His face lost every trace of color.
"K-Kill..."
"My father?"
His lips trembled.
Disbelief filled his eyes.
He stared at Steffan as though looking at a complete madman.
Then he shook his head violently.
"I can’t do that."
Though he had schemed against others...
Though he desperately desired power...
There remained a line inside his heart he had never imagined crossing.
Patricide.
That was something he could never accept.
Steffan’s smile slowly faded.
His eyes became icy once more.
"You can’t?"
There wasn’t anger in his voice.
Only disappointment.
As though he had expected better.
Without another word, Steffan calmly reached into his pocket.
He removed a small black pill.
It was smooth.
Dark as ink.
A faint medicinal smell lingered around it.
Before Zyan could react—
Steffan’s fingers shot forward.
He grabbed Zyan’s jaw with one hand and forced his mouth open.
The black pill disappeared down his throat almost instantly.
"Cough!"
"Cough!"
Zyan stumbled backward, desperately trying to spit it out.
It was useless.
The pill had already dissolved.
An unbearably bitter taste spread throughout his mouth.
His stomach churned violently.
His face turned deathly pale.
"W-What..."
"What did you give me?"
He looked at Steffan with naked fear.
Steffan slowly withdrew his hand.
A cold smile returned to his face.
"Poison."
One simple word.
Yet it struck Zyan harder than any punch.
Steffan continued without the slightest emotion.
"Without the antidote..."
"You’ll die within a day."
His eyes remained fixed on Zyan.
"Now..."
"You have to choose."
"Live as the head of the Ashbourne household..."
"Or die as a filial son."
Every word weighed heavily upon Zyan’s heart.
The wind continued rustling through the trees.
Somewhere in the distance, a crow cried.
Cold sweat streamed down his forehead.
His thoughts descended into complete chaos.
His father...
His ambition...
His own life...
Everything collided inside his mind until he could barely breathe.
Seconds passed.
Each one felt like an eternity.
Finally...
The last trace of resistance vanished from his eyes.
His shoulders slumped in defeat.
After hesitating for a moment, Zyan finally made a difficult decision.
He chose to live.
Steffan smiled faintly as he looked at Zyan Ashbourne.
There was satisfaction in his eyes—not because of friendship or trust, but because he had witnessed the exact moment a man’s resolve collapsed. Fear had accomplished what threats alone could not.
He stepped forward and casually patted Zyan’s shoulder, almost like an elder encouraging a promising junior.
"Good."
The single word carried quiet approval.
To Zyan, however, it felt colder than a blade.
His body remained stiff as he stood there, still shaken by everything that had just happened. He had made his choice, but the weight of that decision already pressed heavily against his heart.
Steffan, on the other hand, appeared completely relaxed.