As soon Ethan drew closer and grabbed his hand,a disgusting feeling welled up in his heart.

It was for a brief moment that he managed to mask in an instant.

"Haha, those stories are exaggerated," Ethan said with a small laugh. "It's all just hard work and luck."

Mureno's smile deepened. "Hard work and luck, huh?" His eyes briefly flicked toward the children, and Ethan's grip tightened suddenly.

"Ouch!" Mureno flinched in pain.

"Sorry," Ethan said quickly. "I forgot to control my strength. I was practicing a technique recently."

"Haa, it's fine," Mureno said, pressing his lips together to hide the pain.

After a few more polite words, Mureno refused Ethan's offer for dinner. "Such fine meals are not suitable for servants of God. I will take my leave. Enjoy your celebration."

He bowed and left quietly.

Ethan watched him go. His smile faded, replaced by a cold expression. Slowly, he raised his hand and sniffed it.

The smell was faint but foul, rotten in a way that made his stomach turn.

It wasn't the smell of dirt or sweat rather it was something darker, something evil.

And deep inside him, something reacted. A faint, sharp ache ran through his body as if warning him.

"Something seems suspicious," he murmured under his breath.

....

"Holy stars! Our Lord is too much!" one man yelled.

"We prayed for fun asking God to give him more wives, but it seems God took us seriously!" another laughed.

"Yes! What can be better than free food and drinks!" someone shouted from the back.

"Damn, I'm jealous! But I wish the Lord would marry ten more times!"

"Only ten? I say it a hundred times!"

"Ha! Weak! Our Lord deserves a thousand wives!"

The crowd burst into laughter. The entire hall was filled with cheerful voices and excitement.

From the edge of the hall, Oliver stood quietly, watching the scene with a small frown. He sighed, rubbing his temple. His eyes shifted toward Nina, who looked a little lost in thought. Her face seemed pale and weary.

"Nina, what happened?" he asked softly. "You look troubled."

Nina glanced at him and forced a small smile. "Nothing," she said after a pause. "I'm just getting old. Seeing him take wives left and right, I can't help but worry about the children."

Her tone was calm, but her eyes told a different story. They carried a trace of worry, perhaps even sadness.

Oliver looked at her in silence, unsure what to say. Around them, the sounds of laughter and celebration continued to fill the air.

Yet, amidst the cheers and bright smiles, there was a faint feeling of uncertainty. Some laughed out of joy, while others smiled to hide their worries.

The wedding had begun, but for many hearts in that hall, peace still seemed far away.

"You are worried about the children?" Oliver asked with a frown, his tone calm but curious.

"Not exactly about the children," Nina sighed, rubbing her temples. "Rather than them, I'm more worried about myself."

"Yourself?" Oliver repeated, looking puzzled.

"Yes," she said softly. "The work has started to feel so heavy lately. I keep thinking about how many children the Lord might have in the future, and it honestly terrifies me. Just imagining all the chaos makes my head spin."

Oliver looked at her for a moment and then nodded. "Yeah, we've gotten too old to handle so many things. It's no wonder you feel that way." He sighed and looked around the snowy courtyard. He could understand Nina's thoughts without her saying more.

Before he could speak again, a soft thud hit Nina's shoulder. She blinked and looked down to see a snowball rolling off her coat.

"Oh, Miranda," she said, her voice softening. "What happened?"

Miranda ran up, her cheeks flushed red from the cold. "Aunty, what are you doing here? Why do you look so sad?"

Nina's tired expression melted at the little girl's concern. She smiled faintly. "No, sweetheart, I'm not sad. I'm just tired, that's all."

"Aunt is tired? Then wait here," Miranda said quickly, puffing out her chest with confidence.

"Miranda will bring some food for you!"

Her cheerful tone brought a warmth to Nina's heart. The little girl's innocence was enough to make her forget her worries, even if for a short while.

Miranda turned and ran off toward the kitchen. As she hurried through the hallway, she suddenly slowed down.

A strange feeling tugged at her chest.

"Huh… why do I feel like I'm forgetting something?" she muttered to herself.

"Who is it?" she whispered again, frowning in confusion. For a moment, she thought of someone but then shook her head. "Maybe I'm just imagining things."

Meanwhile, at the back of the main estate, a young boy stood alone in the closed room.

The wooden sword in his hands cut through the cold air again and again. His feet moved lightly across the ground. He twisted, stepped, and swung, repeating each motion with precision.

The blade sliced through the air with a sharp sound. His grip was firm, his eyes sharp, and his focus unwavering. Sweat trickled down his forehead even in the cold.

He took a deep breath and raised his sword again. Just as he was about to swing, he suddenly stopped.

"Achoo!" he sneezed loudly. Then again.

"Achoo!"

Ray sniffed and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. "Someone must be thinking about me," he said with a half-smile. "It must be that dumbhead Miranda remembering me again."

He leaned on his sword for a moment, catching his breath, and looked up at the sky.

"Did Mother call opera or something?" he muttered, tilting his head. "Why is there so much noise? And what's that smell… food?"

He looked toward the main house, seeing faint smoke rising from the kitchen chimney.

"Maybe Mother is just bored again," he sighed. Then he shook his head, brushing off the thought.

"Come on, Ray. Time to focus," he whispered to himself.

Little did Ray know that not only had the entire estate forgotten him,Ethan even had a marriage getting him a new mother.

If he knew this,he might start chasing after them, weaving his sword.

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