The Lord Who Levels Up by Devouring - Chapter 285

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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 285. The Truth Revealed (2)
It was the waning hours of evening.
Among the murmuring children of the Orphanage, a nobleman draped in a black coat surveyed them with a penetrating gaze.
His eyes, a deep crimson, were utterly devoid of warmth.
The atmosphere around him was so glacial it seemed as though ice rather than blood flowed through his veins.
The Orphanage Director’s expression was fraught with anxiety.
He kept stealing nervous glances at the nobleman, tensed as though his very neck might be forfeit at any moment.
Seraphia blinked slowly, lost in thought.
…This is a dream.
A dream of the day I was adopted long ago.
I watched the dream unfold before me in silence.
The nobleman came to a halt before a small girl.
In her hands lay a worn and tattered doll.
Gripped so tightly from nervousness that her knuckles had turned white.
‘This child will do.’
‘Are you certain, my lord?’
The Orphanage Director ventured to speak carefully.
‘She is remarkably intelligent for her age, but… her body is quite frail.’
‘Weakness is of no consequence. What matters is something else entirely.’
The nobleman’s gaze swept slowly across Seraphia’s face.
‘What is your name?’
‘S-Seraphia….’
‘From this moment forward, your name is Seraphia Whitewolf.’
I was terrified back then.
Watching the dream unfold, I smiled at the sight of my younger self.
The adoption proceedings moved swiftly.
The Orphanage had been my entire world.
Yet I could not easily accept the reality that I had to leave it behind.
Before boarding the carriage, I turned to gaze upon the Orphanage children one last time.
‘You have to come visit us, Seraphia!’
‘You can’t forget about us!’
‘…I promise!’
I boarded the carriage, swallowing back my tears.
And by the time I arrived at Whitewolf Territory.
I learned that the Orphanage had burned down, and everyone had perished.
Dreams were truly cruel.
Just when I thought I had forgotten, they would dredge up those memories.
The anguish of losing cherished friends.
The terror that had I remained at the Orphanage, I too would have died.
These conflicting emotions clawed at my heart.
Among them, right there now.
Young Seraphia felt only gratitude toward House Whitewolf, who had brought her to this place.
Seraphia descended from the carriage, wrapped in nothing but a thin coat.
How wondrous it was that snowflakes settled softly upon her hair.
And then.
Adrian, standing before the Castle Gate.
‘…Ha!’
He was cold.
His crimson eyes burned with wariness.
Yet looking back now, it seemed he had never truly hated Seraphia.
He was simply inept.
Unaccustomed to treating a stranger with warmth.
Young Seraphia had not understood then, but I understood now.
Yet Adrian deteriorated gradually.
I believed his decline was my fault.
So I studied and labored all the harder for the house.
Day and night, I strove ceaselessly, hoping to be of some aid to the house and to Adrian.
But my efforts only drove daggers deeper into Adrian’s heart.
Adrian descended into gambling and debauchery.
He reached the point of being called an irredeemable wastrel.
‘How dare you…!!’
His crimson eyes blazed as if to incinerate Seraphia.
My heart thundered wildly, and my legs froze as if encased in ice.
And then.
‘Stop this at once!’
Kai, who sheltered me, was so infinitely gentle.
Those memories and emotions from that time had never dulled—they remained embedded in my heart.
Dreams flow like dreams.
Memories of the past.
Emotions I believed I had forgotten.
All of it accumulates anew, like falling snow.
Soon my drifting consciousness returned.
“Ah.”
I could open my eyes.
* * *
Bernard’s shocking words.
“The previous Count had guided Adrian to… violate Seraphia.”
The air in the room collapsed.
A suffocating silence.
I barely managed to open my mouth.
“What…? What did you…? What did you just say…?”
But the words wouldn’t come out properly.
My tongue felt frozen, refusing to move.
I couldn’t comprehend it, couldn’t accept it.
No matter what, it shouldn’t be possible.
Father would never go that far.
That’s what I tried to deny.
But that denial never made it past my throat.
Because deep in the recesses of my consciousness, a terrible thought slowly crawled to the surface—that the father I knew might actually be capable of such a thing.
I suppressed the roiling emotions within me.
I steadied my mind and pieced together the situation.
The reason Father hadn’t cast me out immediately and instead left me to live as a wastrel.
“Father tried to make me assault Seraphia?”
We shared not a drop of blood between us as siblings.
Even a child born between Seraphia and me would pose no problem.
As long as my blood flowed through them.
They could be recognized as flesh and blood of House Whitewolf.
“And in doing so, he could brand me with the infamy of being a scoundrel who assaulted his own sister, making it effortless for him to cast me out from the family?”
Even a wastrel is still a son.
Expelling someone from the family?
That required bearing considerable burden from noble society.
But an assailant is a different matter entirely.
Especially one who assaulted his own sister—a worthless beast.
They could throw him out on the spot, even behead him without a word of protest.
In the end, all Father needed was Seraphia and the child.
More precisely, a new heir to continue the bloodline of House Whitewolf.
“And to prevent me from ever claiming the family’s rights later, he locked it all away in his will beforehand?”
By leaving everything of the family to Seraphia, he excluded me and naturally granted himself the justification of a “legitimate succession.”
“…Yes, that is correct.”
I clenched my teeth hard.
The taste of blood filled my mouth.
Rage surged within me.
Yet I felt only hollow.
I closed my eyes once, then opened them as I spoke.
“…Does Seraphia…”
I forced my cracked voice to steady.
“Does Seraphia know about this?”
Bernard shook his head.
At least there was that small mercy.
All of this had been orchestrated by Father alone.
Or rather, to be precise.
“Bernard, you knew all of this and yet stood by and did nothing.”
“…I apologize.”
As I watched Bernard lower his head, I felt something.
Disillusionment.
A profound disgust toward humanity so intense it made my skin crawl.
I closed my eyes quietly.
Beyond that darkness, Bernard’s voice reached me.
“However, Adrian did not act according to the previous Count’s intentions.”
Just as Bernard said, I never violated Seraphia.
Though I may have wallowed in gambling and debauchery, I never crossed that particular line.
I despised Seraphia.
She was the source of all my family’s ruin.
And later, my hatred for her transformed into hatred for The Frost Lord, the greatest enemy of the Allied Forces.
Regardless, even when I was still part of the family, I despised Seraphia.
That is, I never violated her.
Nor did I ever harass her.
I never laid a hand upon Seraphia’s body in any manner.
So as I continued to reject and distance myself from Seraphia—
“The previous Count….”
Bernard’s words trailed off abruptly.
It would be more accurate to say he could not continue easily.
He opened and closed his mouth several times, attempting to speak, but ultimately Bernard could not bring himself to utter the words.
A suffocating silence descended.
Unable to bear it any longer, I opened my mouth.
“Speak.”
Yet Bernard still did not speak readily.
He hesitated for a long moment.
I seized Bernard by the collar.
Only then did Bernard finally open his mouth.
“He decided to do it himself.”
“…Himself?”
My comprehension lagged behind.
No—my mind refused to understand.
I did not want to understand the meaning contained in the word “himself” that had left Bernard’s lips.
But with cruel certainty.
I came to understand it nonetheless.
“…Surely you don’t mean Father—.”
“When Adrian did not become entangled with Seraphia… the previous Count decided to do it himself….”
Bernard could not finish his sentence.
My mind went blank in an instant.
And for good reason—the words Bernard left unspoken were—.
“Father tried to violate Seraphia with his own hands…?”
Bernard did not answer.
His gaze cast downward.
His face frozen in cold severity.
All of it served as answer enough.
My mind churned as though filled with blood.
The blood in my entire body seemed to flow backward.
I had known it.
That Father was not a good man.
He was ruthless and cold.
A man who would spare neither means nor method for the sake of his objectives.
But I had attributed it to the sense of responsibility that came with being the head of House Whitewolf.
So I had tried to understand.
That he cast me out.
That he sought to use me.
I had convinced myself that these were unavoidable choices made for the sake of the family, and I had tried to accept them.
But Bernard’s account was different.
A filthy truth that exceeded my imagination.
The corruption of a being who had far transcended the boundaries of humanity.
And because of that, I could not believe it.
Father was as ruthless as he was cunning—a politician of the highest order.
In other words.
He was a man who would never tolerate any disgrace that could not be calculated and controlled.
“Even an adopted daughter is still a daughter! There is no way Father would accept the infamy of being a parent who violated his own child?!”
Such a thing would be a fatal weakness for a nobleman.
A catastrophe that would shake the very honor of House Whitewolf to its foundations.
A noble whose honor crumbled in such a manner could no longer maintain power, and my father knew this better than anyone.
Could a man so meticulous as to orchestrate every plan in advance, so chillingly malevolent, have overlooked this fact?
Blinded by lust for Seraphia?
No.
Father is not such a man.
He is not so ‘human’ as to be swayed by mere carnal desire and destroy everything.
“The previous Count was also mindful of this fact.”
And so.
Father devised a plan to.
“Pin the blame on Adrian.”
Seraphia’s pregnancy was my doing.
Or so he would claim.
This was it.
The ultimate reason Father had never bothered to correct my dissolute lifestyle.
The essential reason he had never cast me out as unnecessary to the family.
I had to be a scoundrel.
I had to be. There was no other way.
When Seraphia became pregnant by Father, the world would point their fingers at me.
Even if I protested my innocence?
Not a soul would believe me.
-The scoundrel violated his own sister!
There was no more perfect script for ruin.
Faster than the truth.
Sweeter than reality could ever be.
And within all this catastrophic truth.
‘Ah.’
Every puzzle piece in my mind fell into place.
Now I understood.
At last, I could see it.
Why my relationship with Kai had to fall apart.
Why Seraphia had to be adopted.
And all this time.
Why Bernard’s affection toward me had never surfaced.
“So that’s why….”
Bernard said Father had devised a plan to frame me with false accusations.
A plan.
In other words, it was never executed.
And the reason that horrific scheme remained only a plan.
Approximately four years ago.
The moment I returned to the past.
The year Seraphia turned sixteen and made her debut in society as a woman of childbearing age.
Just before Father’s vile plan could be set in motion.
“Bernard, did you kill Father?”
…It was because Bernard had abandoned his loyalty and poisoned Father.

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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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