A Terrible Arrangement

Faced with the dagger about to plunge into his body, Roland's eyes filled with annoyance and regret, but even more than that, he felt a profound sense of helplessness. The feeling instantly filled him with endless hatred for Alinur.

But at that moment, Alinur's wrist was suddenly seized by a powerful hand. No matter how hard the girl struggled, she could not force the dagger in her hand down even an inch further.

Realizing she could not achieve her goal, Alinur immediately looked up in anger.

Before the furious Alinur, Gerson bowed and scraped, appearing incomparably humble. Yet his grip on her wrist did not loosen in the slightest.

"Gerson, are you trying to rebel?" Alinur shouted sharply.

"Third Miss, the master wishes to see Young Master Roland. You cannot kill him here now." A fawning smile appeared on Gerson's face as he spoke humbly.

"Young Master? Is he worthy of that?" Alinur grew even angrier at his words.

"It is the master's order," Gerson replied quietly.

"Father? Since when did he ever care about that damned bastard?"

Gerson remained silent and did not answer. Though his attitude was humble, he was exceptionally firm.

Seeing Gerson's resolute attitude and recalling her imposing father, Alinur finally took two deep breaths after a long while and slowly suppressed the fury in her heart.

But remembering the insults she had just suffered, Alinur pressed down with her foot again. Only after several sharp cracks of overstrained bones and Roland's agonized screams did she gradually ease off.

"Since Father wishes to see you, I'll spare you today. Remember to hurry up and die. Don't dirty my eyes again."

Alinur's cold threat, almost entirely devoid of emotion, made Roland's heart tighten, and a trace of fear flashed through his eyes.

At the sight, the girl finally revealed a satisfied smile. She lifted her foot and released Roland from her control.

Before death, Roland's absurd dignity vanished in an instant. He did not argue, but forced his badly injured body upright and slowly stood.

"Thank you for your understanding, Third Miss. This Old Servant offended you just now." Seeing Alinur release Roland, Gerson quickly let go of her wrist as well and bowed deeply in apology again.

"Get him out of here."

"Right away, right away." After speaking, Gerson paid no heed to Roland's severe injuries. He grabbed his arm and hurried toward the interior of the castle.

The excruciating pain in his chest made Roland let out several more miserable screams.

"Shut up. I thought five years of instruction would have taught you humility and obedience, but I never expected you would still dare provoke the master." Hearing him, Gerson turned his head and berated him viciously, with none of his previous warmth or kindness remaining.

Covered in cold sweat, Roland did not argue. He merely lowered his head, making it impossible to see his expression.

But at some point, the rage and killing intent in his heart had already reached their peak.

Though the memories buried deep in his mind told him just how unfortunate his predecessor's childhood had been, he could not truly empathize with it.

But after nearly dying just now, he had personally experienced the suffering and torment his predecessor had endured.

I thought I had inherited your hatred. I never expected it to become my own today.

Roland's silence still did not extinguish Gerson's anger. For the sake of such a bastard, he had actually defied the noble Third Miss. To him, someone who considered serving the Solomon Family the glory of his life, that was simply unacceptable.

If not for the master's orders, he might have been unable to stop himself from killing Roland on the spot.

"Remember, if you dare show even the slightest disrespect before the master, I will kill you immediately, even if I am punished by him afterward," Gerson said again, his voice filled with killing intent.

"Don't worry. I won't," Roland replied quietly, enduring the intense pain in his chest.

"That had better be the case." With that, Gerson turned around again and led Roland toward the highest floor of the castle.

As Roland watched Gerson's back, a chilling viciousness flashed deep in his eyes.

Don't worry. From now on, until I possess the strength to control my own fate, I will never appear before any of you again.

Reality was always the best teacher. What had just happened taught Roland one lesson: dignity without strength to support it was not dignity. It was helpless rage.

Led by Gerson, Roland climbed seven flights of winding stairs, passed through a narrow corridor, and finally arrived before a study at the very end.

The study door was not closed, but Gerson still did not enter rashly. Instead, he gave a standard servant's bow at the doorway and said with his fullest sincerity, "Master, Young Master Roland has arrived."

"Let him enter."

A deep, authoritative voice slowly came from within the room, but it seemed to be filled with exhaustion, making one uneasy.

"As you command."

After speaking, Gerson stepped aside.

The study was not large. Through the doorway, Roland could see its rather simple furnishings, yet they did nothing to lessen the immense pressure it placed upon him.

Alinur might have been determined to kill him, but without Junot's permission, she could not do so.

But the nominal father within this study could kill him, and no one could stop him.

That familiar feeling of helplessness surged into his heart once more, making Roland feel increasingly irritated.

But there was no retreat now. Roland could only steel himself and step into the study.

The simple, tidy study was filled with all sorts of books. A single middle-aged man sat behind a huge oak desk, continuously reviewing the documents piled across it. From time to time, he picked up the magic pen placed to his right and made notes on the papers.

The man was dressed with great care. He wore a black satin robe embroidered with orderly pale golden patterns along both sides, forming an intricate design that was clearly the work of a master. He also had long golden hair, casually tied behind his head. Though time had left its marks on his face, it could not conceal his handsome features. His face was lean and sharply defined, with a high nose bridge and rosy lips. Every feature seemed like a masterpiece carved by a master artisan, making people instinctively feel endless goodwill toward him.

But to Roland, this man held his fate in his hands. He could not feel any goodwill toward him at all, only unease.

The quiet study contained only the soft friction of the magic pen against paper, gentle and smooth like a tranquil symphony.

After a long while, the man finally set down his magic pen and picked up the document to review it again. Apparently dissatisfied with the result, he furrowed his brow and scrutinized it with a solemn expression.

Only after making further revisions did the man finally set the document down in satisfaction and turn his gaze toward Roland, who stood in the study looking restrained and uneasy.

That sharp, authoritative gaze immediately placed even greater pressure on Roland, leaving him unsure how to speak.

But his worries soon vanished without a trace when the man slowly said, "Level 4 Mage. Not bad. The family has found a Magic Tutor for you. Pack your things and report to them."

Roland was stunned. He could hardly believe that this nominal father, who had ignored him for so many years, had actually arranged a Magic Tutor for him.

From his predecessor's memories, he knew exactly what a Magic Tutor represented. Every mage qualified to be called a Magic Tutor possessed a class level above 13. Not only did they possess immense strength, but they also had an ocean of knowledge.

Unlike warriors, magic placed knowledge above all else. Graduation was never the end for mages. Even the highest-ranked Noble Mage Academy in the Terra Kingdom taught only the most basic magical theories. To obtain more, one needed resources.

Roland had already graduated. Not only had he lost the opportunity to gain more advanced knowledge, but even if he had not, the cost of purchasing higher-level magical knowledge was an astronomical figure to him.

Therefore, for his predecessor, becoming the apprentice of a Magic Tutor had been a dream he had never dared to hope for.

Not only could he study advanced knowledge for free at his tutor's side, but he could also assist the tutor with high-level experiments. That would be of enormous benefit to his exploration of the path of magic.

But the exorbitant apprenticeship fee required to become a Magic Tutor's apprentice was something Roland could not possibly afford. Yet the family that had once treated him like an ant had actually fulfilled his predecessor's wish.

The sudden benefit made Roland's breathing grow heavier. But with the experience of his previous life, he did not believe such an enormous windfall would simply fall from the sky and land right on his head.

So he carefully chose his words and asked cautiously, "May I ask which Magic Tutor the family has arranged for me?"

At Roland's question, Junot frowned. But considering that the coming arrangement required Roland's voluntary agreement, he still gave an explanation.

"His Highness Garfield."

"Garfield?" Roland silently turned the unfamiliar name over in his mind.

But then a title suddenly surfaced from his predecessor's memories, and his expression changed dramatically.

"Bloodline Alchemist Garfield?"

Facing Roland's shocked cry, Junot slowly nodded.

After receiving Jurut's confirmation, Roland began trembling all over, his face turning deathly pale in an instant.