Chapter 170: What is Family? [2]

Mikhail Olegovich Volnograd was an honor student of the Knight Department.

He wasn’t quite at the level of Anastasiya Valentinovna Belozerskaya, who had established herself as the undisputed strongest among the third years, but he was accomplished enough that few students in the department dared to cause trouble with him.

His grades were excellent, his swordsmanship had earned recognition from several instructors, and his ability to use Aura placed him comfortably among the more talented knights of his year.

Had Mikhail been born into an ordinary noble family, those achievements alone would have been enough for his parents to boast about him at every banquet they attended.

Unfortunately, he had been born a Belozersky.

Or more precisely, he had been born into one of its branch houses.

No matter how much Mikhail achieved, there was a limit to how much recognition the Volnograd name could earn him within the Northern Grand Duchy.

His family possessed land, wealth, soldiers, and enough status that most nobles would treat them with respect, but when placed beside the direct descendants of the Grand Duke, the distinction between them was as clear as day.

Mikhail had understood the hierarchy from childhood, and for most of his life, he had accepted it.

Anastasiya was the heir to the Grand Duchy, a prodigy whose talent justified every bit of attention she received, so there was little point in resenting someone he had never realistically expected to surpass.

...But Ilya had been different.

He couldn’t use Aura.

For years, that single fact had placed Mikhail in the unusual position of being able to look at a member of the main family and know, without question, that he was superior to him in the one discipline the Belozerskys valued above everything else.

"But why...?"

Why was it that nobody seemed to care about anything he achieved, yet everyone cared about whatever Ilya Belozersky, the failure, did?

Mikhail could rise through the Knight Department, earn the recognition of his professors, master his Aura, and establish himself as one of the best students of his year, yet all of it seemed to disappear the moment Ilya accomplished something new.

He hated it.

And yet, despite all those thoughts, whenever Mikhail actually saw Ilya walking through the academy hallways, all that resentment never seemed to make it past his throat.

There had been plenty of times when he wanted to approach him, confront him, or simply say something after hearing another rumor about his accomplishments, but the moment Ilya came into view, Mikhail would feel goosebumps spreading across his arms, and his feet would refuse to take another step.

Because seeing Ilya always reminded him of those days.

The days before anyone called Ilya a failure, when the children of the Belozersky branches had been the ones constantly compared to him instead.

Back then, even ordinary citizens throughout Belozero had spoken openly about how disappointing the other children seemed beside the Grand Duke’s son, and Mikhail could still remember hearing adults wonder why their own children couldn’t be more like Ilya.

Those had been powerless days for Mikhail.

No matter how hard he trained, Ilya had always been ahead.

He learned faster, fought better, and carried the Belozersky name with such ease that the adults around them had already begun treating his future accomplishments as inevitable.

Meanwhile, children like Mikhail could only stand nearby and listen as everything they did was compared against him.

"Welcome home, Young Master Mikhail."

"Yes. Thank you."

Mikhail gave the maid a brief nod as he stepped inside, allowing her to take his coat before making his way farther into the manor.

It had been a long day at the academy, and after everything that had happened recently, he wasn’t particularly interested in doing anything other than returning to his room and getting some rest.

"Will you be having dinner at the usual time, Young Master?"

"Yes. I’ll come down later."

"Understood."

Mikhail headed upstairs and made his way through the familiar halls toward his room.

His thoughts wandered back to the academy as he walked, particularly to all the conversations he had heard over the past few days, but he pushed them aside when he finally reached his door.

He opened it and stepped inside.

"You sure took your time."

Suddenly, a voice resounded from somewhere.

The voice came from somewhere inside his room, and for several seconds, he remained standing by the doorway without moving. ℯℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

He knew that voice, and the moment he recognized it, the same uncomfortable chill he had felt so many times as a child ran across his skin.

Slowly, Mikhail looked toward the window.

"...."

Ilya was there.

He sat in one of the chairs with his back comfortably resting against it, waiting as though there was nothing unusual about appearing inside Mikhail’s room.

Their eyes met, and the sight immediately dragged Mikhail back to those childhood days he had spent years trying to forget.

"...."

Ilya smiled. "It’s been a while, Cousin Mikhail."

"...Cousin Ilya." Mikhail hesitated as he stared at him. "You... what are you doing here?"

Mikhail slowly looked around the room before his hand moved back toward the doorknob, intending to step outside and call for one of the servants.

The moment his fingers touched the metal, however, a sudden chill bit into his skin, causing him to flinch and immediately pull his hand back.

"...What the hell?"

He stared at the doorknob before rubbing his fingers together, trying to get rid of the lingering numbness.

For a moment, he wondered why the maid hadn’t informed him that someone had come to visit, but that question was quickly pushed aside by the far stranger question of why his doorknob had suddenly become freezing cold.

Mikhail glanced back at Ilya.

His cousin was still sitting in the same place.

"Cousin Ilya... Haha..."

Mikhail laughed awkwardly as he continued rubbing his fingers together.

"If you were going to pay me a visit, you should’ve told me in advance. I could’ve at least prepared something for you."

"There was no need."

"...You’re still a guest. It wouldn’t have been any trouble to prepare some tea, or perhaps something to eat if you haven’t had dinner yet."

Mikhail tried to keep his voice casual as he spoke, although his eyes wandered toward the frozen doorknob again.

"Actually, why don’t I call one of the servants right now?"

"No need."

Ilya’s answer came just as Mikhail took a step toward the door.

Mikhail stopped.

"I won’t be staying long."

"...Is that so?"

"Yeah."

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room as Mikhail remained near the entrance, unsure whether he should approach or simply stay where he was.

Ilya hadn’t threatened him or even raised his voice, but something about finding his cousin waiting inside his bedroom without warning had already put him on edge.

Mikhail forced another smile.

"Then... what brings you here?"

Ilya looked at him for a moment before leaning forward in his chair, resting his elbows against his knees.

"I wanted to talk to you."

"About what?"

"Family."

"...Family?"

"Yeah." Ilya tilted his head slightly. "We’re cousins, aren’t we? I figured it would be better if we settled this as family."

"...."

Mikhail stared at him, and the goosebumps along his arms slowly returned.

He knew.

The thought entered his mind before Ilya had even explained what he was talking about.

Mikhail tried to dismiss it, telling himself there was no reason for Ilya to know anything, but the cold spreading from the doorknob behind him made that increasingly difficult to believe.

Still, he forced himself to laugh.

"I’m afraid you’ll have to be a little more specific, Cousin."

"Sure."

Ilya reached into his coat.

Mikhail’s eyes immediately followed his hand as several sheets of paper came out, and whatever hope he had been holding on to disappeared when Ilya casually placed them on the table beside him.

"Let’s start with this."

"...."

Mikhail swallowed hard.

Why the hell was he so scared?

They were the same age, and if anything, Mikhail should have been the one with the advantage now that they were no longer children.

With such thoughts, Mikhail slowly walked toward him. He glanced down at the documents Ilya had placed there, and the moment he recognized the first few names written across the page, his stomach sank.

"Where did you get these?"

"Does it matter?"

Mikhail picked up one of the sheets and quickly scanned through it, although every line only made his expression worse.

"This is... private correspondence. You can’t just walk into someone’s home and put something like this in front of them without explaining where you got it..."

"I didn’t get them."

Mikhail looked up. "Then who did?"

"I don’t think you need to know that."

"Cousin Ilya—"

"Mikhail."

"...."

The interruption was quiet, but it immediately shut him up.

Ilya remained seated while Mikhail stood across from him with the documents still in his hands.

There was no anger on his face, which somehow made the situation worse, because Mikhail couldn’t tell what Ilya intended to do now that he had come all the way here.

"I want to hear your side of the story."

"My side of what?"

"You know what."

"...I really don’t."

Ilya sighed. "Mikhail, if you’re going to lie, at least wait until after I’ve shown you everything."

Mikhail’s fingers tightened around the papers.

"I don’t know what you think you’ve discovered, but whatever someone told you, you should probably consider whether they’re trying to turn you against your own family."

He placed the documents back onto the table and tried to calm his voice.

"We’re family. Surely you’d trust someone of your own blood before believing whatever accusations some outsider brought to you...."

"That’s exactly why I’m here."

Mikhail paused.

Ilya leaned back slightly and looked up at him.

"If you were anyone else, I wouldn’t have bothered coming personally." His eyes moved toward the documents before returning to Mikhail. "I would’ve dealt with it and moved on."

"Then you believe me?"

"I haven’t heard your explanation yet."

Mikhail opened his mouth, but no words immediately came out.

Ilya was giving him exactly what he should have wanted, an opportunity to explain himself before anything happened, yet the offer only made the pressure in his chest worse.

Because he still didn’t know how much Ilya knew.

"What exactly are you accusing me of?"

Ilya stared at him for a few seconds.

Then he smiled.

"That’s better."

"...What?"

"You finally stopped pretending you don’t know why I’m here."

"...."

Ilya reached forward and tapped one finger against the documents.

"So let’s try this again."

His smile disappeared.

"Why did you do it?"