The Possessor Mistook the Genre for 20 Years

119 – To a New Home

*Thud-*

With a sharp snap of fingers, Franz’s party arrived before a colossal mansion.

The former Ishtar Ducal Estate, now the Esteban Ducal Estate. Franz’s own manor, in other words.

Franz considered the mansion’s facade, his thoughts a murmur:

‘Gotta get this place straightened up, first thing.’

Since Duke Ishtar was revealed to be a cultist, all the servants who had managed the estate had been burned at the stake.

Of course, there were likely innocents among them. Those who had simply worked, unknowing, would surely be burning with indignation.

But what could be done? That was the law. It could even be considered a mercy that their families had been spared.

Anyway, that meant the place was in poor condition, lacking any care.

Vines were gearing up for a marathon along the base of the walls, and weeds were creating cartels in the garden, expanding their territories.

He wouldn’t live here himself, not permanently anyway, but still, it should be tidy. It was going to be Yuna’s place, after all.

‘While I’m at it, might as well clear out all the decorations, too.’

Whether they were cultists or not, the aristocracy’s greed for opulence knew no bounds. His brow furrowed at the sight of the bizarre ornaments that cluttered the yard.

Simple was best, why couldn’t they understand that?

Franz slowly shook his head at the nobles’ lack of aesthetic sense, and stepped into the mansion.

Arian, glancing around the entrance hall, spoke, “It’s a bit old, but doesn’t seem to have any real issues. Just a little dusty.”

“Well, it *was* that guy’s place until recently. Let’s take a deeper look, there might be things hidden away.”

Franz said this, then turned his gaze to Yuna.

“Yuna, you should take a really good look. You’ll be here longer than me, after all.”

“Okay, I will. Me and Yuria will clean up all the dust too.”

“The two of them, to clean this whole vast place…?”

Maybe, with Yuna’s inhuman stamina, it was possible. But what about Yuria? She’d probably collapse halfway through.

Though, in the first place, they wouldn’t be doing any cleaning themselves. That’s what the servants are for.

Franz figured it was best not to say that, and as he was about to take a step, a grim thought suddenly popped into his head.

‘Don’t tell me, they want to be slaves like Hera…?’

No, Yuna would never be like that.

Though, it’s not like Hera was ever the type either…

Anyway, no. It absolutely must not be.

Just hearing the word ‘cleaning’ and I’m having thoughts like this. Seems like Hera’s twisted my head around something fierce.

Franz sighed softly, sending a resentful glare toward Hera.

Hera, noticing his gaze, said, flustered,

“Have I… perhaps made some sort of mistake?”

“Nothing really? Just looking.”

“Well, that’s a relief… Oh, now that I think of it, yesterday someone was telling me stories about you.”

“Talking about me? With who?”

Franz was utterly dumbfounded.

Yesterday he was the star of the banquet, so gossip about him wasn’t too surprising. But that Hera was talking with someone else, someone not here, that was strange.

He was so worried about her being tense, it seems she had managed to cope just fine in her own way.

“It was someone called Count Ludovico, I’m sure. He was greatly moved, telling me how you saved him from the clutches of vile cultists.”

Count Ludovico, if I remember right….

“Who is that then?”

Franz had no man of such name in his head. Just one of the people at the social gathering Duke Ishtar had thrown— that’s all he figured.

But was there even a reason to go around blabbing about it…?

He understood the gratitude, but it felt awkward for no reason. He’d rather they kept it to themselves.

“So, Hera, what did you say?”

“Me? Why, I told him of your achievements, as well.”

“What achievements…?”

“That you saved those elf slaves, or when you resurrected the World Tree, things like that.”

Ah.

Franz felt his head spin. It was like the hangover he’d shaken off with Yustia’s help had returned.

‘Yeah, good is good I guess…’

Wasn’t this the first time Hera was having a conversation with someone in human society? It was better to brush it off with ‘good is good’ and move on.

“Upon hearing that, the man was greatly moved, as if he was about to burst into tears.”

“…Right.”

It was good, right?

Franz slowly took a step, with a sliver of doubt lingering.

After that, Franz’s group began inspecting the estate. They entered each and every room to check its condition and to make sure all the necessary magic tools for daily life were there.

Since it was a place used by cultists, they couldn’t let even the smallest detail slide. It was best to not leave any lingering unease.

How much time had passed then? Suddenly, Arian spoke.

“Saintess, you’re awfully quiet today, aren’t you?”

“Huh? Is that…so?”

“You haven’t said a single word since arriving at the manor.”

Franz, hearing their exchange, felt it in his gut. Another storm of bloodshed was brewing.

Of course, he had no intention of just watching it happen. If he didn’t intervene, they’d bicker until the sun dipped below the horizon.

But then, maybe letting them have a Makgora wasn’t such a bad idea? Once the pecking order was clear, maybe things would quiet down a bit.

It was as Franz was entertaining this absurd thought that—

“I just didn’t have anything to say, really.”

A compliant response slipped from Yustia’s lips. The tone was a bit brusque, but it was well within the bounds of what could be overlooked.

*What’s this? Is she still half-drunk?*

Considering Yustia’s usual behavior, that thought was inevitable. It was an unbelievable situation.

And Franz wasn’t the only one thinking it.

“Are you perhaps…not feeling well?”

Arian even went so far as to express her concern.

Yustia, sounding almost wronged, replied,

“Th-that’s not it! I really just didn’t have anything to say…!”

Still, to Franz’s eyes, Yustia did seem a little off. Her face was a bit flushed, or maybe her overall condition just didn’t look quite right.

*Is it the lingering effects of all that alcohol she drank?*

Maybe that was really it. There might be things even divine power couldn’t completely fix.

The truth was, Yustia’s silence had nothing to do with what anyone else suspected.

It was a forgotten fact resurfacing that was the problem. Specifically, it was the memory of her drunken behavior toward Franz.

A confession, or something like it, had slipped out in the haze of drink, and the worry of it crowded out every other thought.

That’s why his face seemed a little flushed too.

Of course, Franz couldn’t know that, and he simply thought, *It’ll get better with time* and nothing more.

Soon, time passed, and the mansion check was nearly complete.

‘Is this the last place, then?’

Franz and his group stood before a door that was obviously different from all the others they’d seen.

Of all the places they’d checked, none had been particularly problematic. Even Count Ishtar’s own chambers looked ordinary; it was hard to believe this was a cultist’s manor.

‘But it’s not the same on the other side…’

Franz knew what lay beyond the door. Justia and Arian did too.

Beyond the door, a staircase led down, and at the bottom of those stairs was *that place*.

The place where Yuna’s mother and little sister had been experimented on, Count Ishtar’s hideous, gruesome laboratory.

Franz hesitated in front of the door before speaking softly.

“Yuna, I’m sorry, but would you mind waiting here for a bit?”

Once this check was finished, they planned to seal off the basement, physically and magically, ensuring no one could ever enter again. If that wasn’t enough, burying it completely would be another option.

So, he didn’t think Yuna needed to see it. She’d never have to look upon it again, so there was no point in her walking into that shock.

‘I can still see it so clearly…’

The expression on Yuna’s face that day, how tormented and pained she looked.

And that’s why Franz wanted her to wait here even more.

But.

“My mom and Yuria were trapped beyond there… right?”

Yuna, Franz realized, was stronger, more upright than he’d thought.

“Then I’ll go. I want to see it with my own eyes. Ah, don’t worry about me. I won’t lose myself like that day.”

Franz hesitated. There was that saying, ignorance is bliss; sometimes the truth can be poison.

But in the end, he decided to respect her wishes.

She was strong enough to overcome it, he was sure.

And.

“If it gets tough, just say the word.”

She had allies nearby, ready to lend their strength.

*Kreek—.*

Franz opened the door to the cellar.