John looked toward the sound and saw the West Family gathered there.
However, the person at the front was not Lothar, but a tall woman.
She wore a deep purple dress, her golden curls draped over her shoulders. Together with the gold-rimmed glasses on her face and the pale violet eyes inherited from her mother's bloodline, she looked exceptionally elegant, yet possessed a sharpness that could not be ignored.
Combined with the Winter Wolf Medal on her chest, which represented her status as a direct descendant of the West Family, her identity was obvious:
The eldest daughter of the West Family, the sole blood relative of the current Count West, Olivia West.
"Viscount Maslow, I would like to discuss something with you."
Before John could speak, Olivia stated her purpose directly:
"As Olivia West, the eldest daughter of the West Family, may I ask whether you have the time?"
Ten minutes later, in the study, pure white mage-lamp light illuminated several grim faces.
Lothar, seated at the head of the table, had changed out of his formal attire and into a military uniform suited for movement, his gaze resolute.
Olivia, seated to Lothar's right, calmly held a cup of black tea, her pale violet eyes fixed on John before her.
The old butler, Albrecht, stood with his hands lowered in the shadows, like a silent footnote.
"John, I need your help."
Lothar got straight to the point. He dropped all formalities, his face filled with gravity and sincerity.
"Not as the Count of the Northern Frontier and the Viscount of Faoken, but as student and teacher."
Before John could respond, Olivia gently pressed a hand to her brother's arm, signaling him to remain calm.
She then turned toward John. Her tone was respectful, yet still sharp.
"Viscount Maslow, please forgive