Chapter 166

Chapter 166
## Chapter 166

‘Lucian!’

Tristan only just now identified the source of this eerie, crushing weight.

He had found it peculiar when Lucian abruptly requested an embrace, but it had all been a calculated setup for this exact moment.

A shudder passed through him at the realization that he had walked straight into a snare, yet his mind was simultaneously racing with confusion.

‘What power are you wielding? Is it magic? No, this isn’t magic.’

Following the passing of Grand Duke Sigmund, Tristan had conducted an exhaustive study of the magical arts. His goal was to identify which magical discipline had employed such cowardly methods so he could exact his vengeance.

Because the Imperial Family had purged nearly every manuscript concerning the mystic arts, his findings were meager, but he had grasped the fundamental nature of magic.

‘Magic is a system that triggers natural phenomena by channeling mana. With rare exceptions like foresight, there are always sensory precursors. No matter how subtle the caster, you cannot prevent nature from reacting to the shift.’

Yet, this suffocating pressure had materialized in a heartbeat without a single omen. Even now, as he endured the crushing force in real-time, there was nothing for the eye to track. It was absolute confirmation that this force was being birthed not by natural laws, but by an entirely different authority.

Suddenly, a theory struck Tristan’s mind like a bolt of lightning.

A power that bypassed natural phenomena, remained hidden unless consciously unleashed, and possessed the physical strength to break a human being. There was only one possibility.

‘Pure mana release?! That’s impossible! What level of mana reserves would you need to flatten a man through sheer density alone…!’

“Brother, how much longer must I remain in this position? Please, do not continue to humiliate me.”

Tristan recoiled at Lucian’s prodding tone. He had been so consumed by the weight of the mana that he had momentarily lost track of his surroundings.

Lucian had publicly asked for a hug. If Tristan continued to stand there like a statue, the scene would be grossly misconstrued. At best, it would be viewed as a public admission of sibling discord; at worst, it would be a blatant defamation of Lucian’s character.

In the direst scenario, he wouldn’t merely be exiled from Asagrim—the sliver of dignity he had fought to keep would be dragged through the mud.

‘Curse him! Why is he resorting to such petty tactics…!’

If Lucian had laid a trap to take his life, Tristan wouldn’t feel this level of resentment. This was pure intimidation. To put it bluntly, it was a cruel, spiteful prank—reminiscent of hiding a sibling’s belongings or destroying a cherished possession.

It was infuriating because there appeared to be no higher purpose behind it other than to leave Tristan trapped in a corner.

“I understand. It appears you have an aversion to my touch, Brother, so we shall leave it at that. Instead, could you perhaps enlighten me as to what has provoked such anger in you?”

As Tristan remained locked in hesitation, Lucian let out a sigh and retracted his arms.

Instantly, the burden pressing against his chest loosened—just a fraction, a tiny reprieve. It wasn’t enough to grant him full movement, but it provided enough breath to speak.

“This is…!”

Tristan, finally regaining his voice, prepared to shout an explanation of the situation to the onlookers. However, one cold look from Lucian caused him to snap his jaw shut.

He couldn’t explain why, but he felt an instinctive certainty that saying the wrong thing now would mean total ruin.

‘Lucian is the one pinning me down with this force. He is fully aware of the reality; there’s no way he lowered the pressure just to listen to some weak justification.’

Why had Lucian invited an embrace only to block him from moving forward? If it looked as though Tristan had rebuffed the gesture, Lucian’s own image would be tarnished. This was far too intricate a charade just to take pleasure in Tristan’s discomfort.

‘What is his objective with this performance? The moment the hug became impossible, the narrative of “devoted brothers” died. No matter how I analyze it, the only remaining interpretation… damn it.’

After a moment of agonizing thought, Tristan finally grasped Lucian’s goal, and his expression twisted.

Indeed, the second he “declined” the embrace, the role of “loving kin” was off the table. There was only one way to salvage the stifling atmosphere.

They had to stop acting as “brothers.”

If they swapped a personal connection for a formal one, the event would be reframed as a noble story of choosing protocol over sentiment. And for that story to be believable, Tristan had to shift his entire demeanor.

‘Damn it. If I had known this was the price, I never would have leaned into the brotherly act from the start.’

Remorse hit him far too late; the damage was done. If he attempted to retreat now, he would forfeit his final opportunity.

Steeling his resolve, Tristan took a deep breath and delivered the response Lucian was fishing for.

“…It is not a refusal of Your Grace’s affection. Even among kin, there is a level of decorum that must be maintained. Let us cease these attempts to cling to the past.”

“Brother? Why this sudden change of heart?”

Lucian tilted his head with an air of total innocence. It was a performance that could have deceived the most cynical diplomat, but Tristan knew it was a total fabrication.

He knew because the lingering weight vanished completely the second those words left his lips.

Gritting his teeth, Tristan dropped to one knee and raised his voice.

“Tristan Valdek offers greetings to Your Grace the Duke, the illustrious Conqueror of the North and the Conqueror of the Snowfields! I beg your indulgence and forgiveness for my prior disrespect!”

—

“Now, I invite you to take a seat. Much time has passed; let us share the words we’ve held back as brothers.”

Once the formal audience concluded, Lucian escorted Tristan to a private parlor situated deep within the fortress. The public justification was a desire to settle family affairs away from the eyes of the court.

Tristan gulped as he looked at Lucian’s pleasant smile.

“Did I… meet your expectations?”

“Haha, we are in private now; you may use a more relaxed tone.”

“No, this is fine.”

Tristan gave a blunt refusal to Lucian’s offer of familiarity. Even if the gesture was genuine, accepting it now would only jeopardize his standing further.

As he expected, Lucian gave a satisfied nod.

“A wise reply. I am pleased to see you have gained some insight into the ways of the world, Brother.”

“You flatter me.”

“Do not drop your guard quite yet. The assessment is ongoing.”

“…!”

“Explain to me the reasoning behind my actions in the throne room just now. Your explanation will determine your success or failure.”

“…As you wish.”

Tristan shoved down his anxiety and spoke with as much composure as he could muster.

“It was a move to establish the hierarchy. It wasn’t simple cruelty; you deemed it vital because you require a compliant partner for our transaction, correct?”

“Hmm.”

A thin smile touched Lucian’s face, suggesting the answer was heading in the right direction. He gestured with his chin for Tristan to elaborate.

“Your Grace greeted me as a sibling, and I was eager to lean into that role. I assumed that if you acknowledged me as a brother in the eyes of the public, you would be trapped in that dynamic once I accepted it.”

“That is accurate. Words spoken before a crowd are not easily retracted.”

“Indeed, my strategy was sound. The error was that it was a boundary I should not have crossed.”

Tristan had committed a grave breach of etiquette by marching five hundred soldiers into Lucian’s domain, Asagrim. Despite the provocation, Lucian had granted him entry, which signaled that Lucian wanted something in return. Otherwise, regardless of his ability to crush them, he never would have permitted a foreign force on his soil.

“However, a conflict arose before we could even negotiate. I immediately prioritized my personal status over Your Grace’s authority. Witnessing my behavior, Your Grace must have concluded that such an attitude would contaminate our upcoming dealings.”

A merchant who forgets his place will always try to demand an absurd price. Lucian had clearly intended to remind Tristan of his station before the bargaining began. That objective drove the bizarre display from earlier.

“When it appeared I had snubbed the embrace, I was left with only two paths: to abandon the brotherly facade and submit, or to insist on equality while publicly shaming Your Grace.”

Choosing the former signaled that he was finally ready to be a rational subordinate in a deal, so Lucian allowed him to save face. Had he chosen the latter, Lucian would have ended the negotiations then and there and cast him out.

Seeing Lucian’s hand, Tristan had opted for submission.

“If I had selected the second path, Your Grace would have dismissed me as someone not worth the effort of a deal. Am I right?”

“Excellent.”

Clap, clap, clap.

As the summary concluded, Lucian broke into applause, looking genuinely delighted. Tristan watched him with a rigid expression, feeling the sting of mockery.

“I assume my reasoning was sufficient.”

“No.”

“What?”

“That specific answer was the bare minimum I expected. The reason I said you passed was for a different reason entirely.”

“A different reason…?”

“You didn’t utter a single word regarding the mana that was crushing you.”

“…!”

“Those who find themselves on a leash always seek a way to unhook the collar. They try to devise defenses so they never have to feel that helplessness again once the restraint is removed.”

It was the fundamental instinct of any living being. No one enjoys having their vulnerability laid bare. The issue was that this “instinct” worked both ways.

“The critical detail is that the one holding the leash detests that behavior. They wish to keep the tension on the line and maintain their dominance.”

“…”

“Tell me, Brother. Which category do you think I fall into?”

Clearly the latter. By any metric, Lucian was the sort of person who would loathe any attempt to undermine the control he had established.

In Tristan’s situation, the “unseen pressure that served as a death threat” was the leash Lucian had fastened, and searching for a countermeasure was the attempt to slip the collar.

Yet Tristan had pointedly ignored it, leaving the leash exactly where it was. Even though he had no idea when that weight might return to break him, he had chosen to leave the mystery buried rather than investigate it.

To Lucian, that specific brand of “situational awareness” was the trait he valued most.

“In our talk just now, had you tried to interrogate me about the source of that mana, or questioned its nature, you would have failed instantly.”

“…”

Tristan ran his tongue over his dry lips. It was evident that these words were more than just a review of a test; they were a direct warning. It meant that if Tristan tried to challenge Lucian’s position even after their deal, there would be consequences.

If any other man had uttered such a threat, he would have dismissed it. But because it came from Lucian, he couldn’t even manage a smirk.

“…What is it you require from me?”

Drained by the mental sparring, Tristan cut to the core of the matter. The more they danced around the edges, the more he felt himself being eclipsed by Lucian’s presence.

However, contrary to what Tristan expected, Lucian only offered a relaxed smile and shook his head.

“For the time being, simply stay here as a guest and mourner until Sir Eisen’s rites are completed. We will finalize our arrangement after the funeral.”

“Is this another trial?”

“No. It is simply…”

Lucian paused for a heartbeat, then answered with uncharacteristic bluntness, unable to find a more diplomatic phrasing.

“…I believe our negotiation will go much smoother once you witness what is about to happen with your own eyes.”