My Youngest Keeps Bringing Home Male Leads - Chapter 66

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 66
Kesenor watched with regret as her small, delicate frame slipped away from him.
Though truthfully, the magic didn’t require physical contact.
‘Well, it wasn’t intentional, at least.’
More surprising was discovering that House Valdemar’s twin had grown far more attached to Agnes than he’d expected.
Agnes herself seemed conflicted, her gaze lingering on the spot where Leonard had vanished.
“Shall we go, then?”
At that, Agnes turned toward Kesenor and smiled, as if severing her tangled emotions with force.
“Yes, let’s do that.”
The two returned to Asmarin’s Cottage and showed Silmare the flowers they had gathered.
Silmare nodded with a heavy expression.
“Yes. It’s Romaril.”
She even confirmed it with the old man beside her, and he too affirmed that it was Romaril.
“Then it truly was House Valdemar that arranged for someone to break into our home……”
“If there’s nowhere else where Romaril is cultivated, then it would have to be Valdemar.”
“But House Valdemar has no reason to do this to us. They wouldn’t be interested in our meager assets—why would they go through such tedious measures just for that……?”
Agnes struggled to sort through her chaotic thoughts.
She couldn’t afford to miss a single detail of what Silmare had so painstakingly uncovered.
Information about Romaril.
Lord Miller’s condition.
And the reason they had to use Romaril processed here, in this remote place.
Above all, a suspicion gnawed at her: this hadn’t been used only on Harold Miller.
What could have driven someone to orchestrate such a thing?
‘Wait. They weren’t after money at all—could it be……’
She recalled something Kesenor had once told her.
‘House Valdemar and House Laberose seem to have had a falling out long ago. Around twenty years back, Marquis Laberose supported the current Count Valdemar’s older brother as the heir to House Valdemar, I’m told.’
If House Laberose had been a thorn in Valdemar’s side from the beginning.
A vivid, searing premonition suddenly seized her—as if struck by lightning.
It felt as though someone had carved out her heart and cast it into a deep, bottomless chasm.
“Miss Agnes.”
Rupert called to her.
In his stone-like, weathered face, only his deep blue eyes burned with explosive intensity.
Rupert had arrived at the same conclusion as she had.
Because he had lived through the same experiences she had.
‘The master has returned home, Miss Agnes.’
‘He was so drunk he stumbled and took a fall, they say!’
‘The master incurred massive gambling debts in Calburn City……’
‘About those servants who used to serve the Lord—the one you asked me to investigate. One is dead, and the other is so soaked in drink that we can’t get any sense out of him, they tell me.’
‘If you use too much of it, a person loses reason and composure. Those around them would think the addiction was to alcohol, not Romaril.’
How had she not seen it?
She felt foolish for overlooking it all.
‘They’re all the same. Father, those servants—all of them.’
The pieces fit together one by one.
If House Valdemar stood at the beginning of everything,
From Father’s ruin to House Laberose drowning in debt.
Leonard and Cedric.
And the Countess Valdemar as well.
As she recalled her genuine feelings toward them, Agnes felt as if she wanted to strangle herself.
The thoughtless cruelty the children had carelessly spoken echoed in her mind.
At the same time, she remembered Leonard breaking flowers for her sake.
The children may not have known.
But the Countess Valdemar—she must have known something.
As she recalled that subtle, strange attitude of hers, nausea rose to her throat.
How absurd her own struggles to survive at all costs must have seemed.
Had she watched me collapse in ruin with composure and disdain?
As if observing an insect having its wings and legs torn off, crawling helplessly in the most pitiful and malicious way?
Her vision flickered.
‘And yet I thought of them as my benefactors……’
No.
Setting aside anger toward them.
Within the sensation of the sky collapsing inward, a surge of ecstasy rose like fierce sunlight pouring down.
‘I was not abandoned.’
Marquis Laberose.
My father.
Whenever I entered his chambers, I always had to throw open the curtains wide.
With clouded eyes and barely coherent speech, he was forever reaching for the bottle.
He would follow when I took his hand to walk, but the leg he’d broken in a fall never seemed to heal properly.
Always lying in bed, his limbs withered until he could scarcely support his own weight.
When I’d bring him out to bathe, watching him shuffle along clinging to Rupert was too anguishing to bear.
‘Why did you do it?’
Agnes asked questions he could not even hear.
‘I was only fifteen when Mother died, Father.’
An age when parents were most needed.
‘Was losing her so unbearable that you had to abandon us, to cast aside everything?’
Truly—to surrender it all.
Sometimes I wanted to abandon everything and flee as well.
My siblings. The Mansion.
Even Amy, on some days.
So the question had always haunted me.
How could a man so gentle and good cast us aside for gambling, bequeathing us such mountainous debt?
If all of it stemmed from Father’s addiction to Romaril—
‘It was not his fault.’
Father had not abandoned us.
‘Amy.’
My poor youngest sister.
From birth, I thought her mother dead and her father’s love lost.
‘But that was never true.’
The shame that her birth had killed Mother and driven Father to madness—it would all become a lie.
If House Laberose’s collapse had been House Valdemar’s design—
Agnes drew a long breath.
It was as though she had been dragged up from a suffocating abyss, gasping for air.
Her consciousness had slipped away for a moment.
Breathing hard, Agnes fought to drag her wavering mind back to clarity.
The world churned with noise around her.
The sound vibrated through her entire body, and she wanted to cry out for silence, but her voice would not come.
Then, a cool breeze swept into her chest.
It was an inexplicable sensation.
A heart burning hot enough to burst, soothed by a gentle touch.
So clear and tender she felt tears gathering.
‘Who…?’
When her eyes opened, many faces surrounded her.
Rupert held Agnes steady in his strong arms as she lay upon the ground.
Kesenor had placed his hand above her forehead; judging by the golden dust spreading around him, he was drawing upon his Healing Power.
Silmare also gazed down at her, her face contorted with sorrow and anger.
“I’m all right.”
Her voice came out hoarse and weak, belying the words.
Yet she truly was all right.
Agnes tried her best to smile genuinely.
It felt as though she had stumbled into a new world.
What she’d thought lost had never been lost at all, and she had even found the possibility of something better.
All of it was the gift of these people who had come seeking her.
Not only the three standing beside her, but Amy, waiting at home.
Everything felt like a blessing sent to find her.
Agnes took Rupert’s hand and drew herself upright.
She was still inside the cottage.
Fortunately, the time she had lost consciousness seemed brief.
Though her body was weak and sluggish, she forced herself to reclaim her senses.
There were things to confirm, plans to make, tasks only she could accomplish.
Among the flood of concerns crowding her mind, Agnes decided what must be done immediately.
Silmare.
Agnes met the gaze of the beautiful man before her.
The Prince of the Fairy Tribe, free-spirited and wise, would give his all for her sake.
An unfathomable devotion.
Yet now she had no choice but to lean on him.
“Silmare.”
“Yes, Agnes.”
She steadied her voice, then spoke with urgency.
“There’s something I need to ask. If you can determine whether someone is addicted to Romaril, would you be willing to examine my father?”
“Your father, you say?”
“Yes. For some time now, he’s been drunk and rarely comes to his senses. I’m beginning to suspect he might be addicted to Romaril.”
“I shall do so at once.”
“And… is it truly impossible to heal someone who is addicted?”
“No, it is not. But it cannot be done here.”
“Must we travel all the way to the Merredis Kingdom?”
Silmare smiled warmly.
“There is no need for that. My homeland—the Naofa Forest—would suffice.”
At his tender words, tears welled up unbidden.
She barely held them back before grasping his hand desperately.
“Then, if my father truly is addicted to Romaril, I must ask you most earnestly—! Amy brought many precious things besides gold coins. If there is anything you need, I will give you whatever you wish.”
Silmare’s fine brows knitted together.
“My feelings for you are not a matter of trade, Agnes. If I can help your father, that alone will be my joy.”
Words failed her.
So many emotions choked her throat that Agnes could say nothing, and bowed her head in silence.
“Thank you, Silmare.”
That was all she could manage to say.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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