Chapter 5: Family Rebellion and Logical Overthrow

Zenon’s question pierced through the quiet drawing room like a knife.

“Can you point out exactly where these numbers are wrong?”

It was a blade of undeniable fact—leaving no room for refutation.

Duke Darius’s lips trembled.

He couldn’t answer. He had left all matters of finance to the treasurer and hadn’t seriously looked at the ledgers in years. But as both a duke and a father, his pride would not allow him to remain silent.

“You insolent boy! How dare you speak to your father that way! Know your place!”

There it was—changing the subject. Exactly as Zenon had predicted.

When a man can’t argue with facts, his last refuge is intimidation through authority—one of the most irrational responses possible.

“Father. The issue at hand is not my attitude.” 

Zenon said evenly.

“It’s the fact that in five years, House Arkwright will be bankrupt.”

Though he addressed him with polite formality, there was not a trace of respect in his tone.

“Tell me—what is more important to you? Your pride, or the survival of this family?”

“W–what…!”

Darius faltered. Zenon didn’t even glance at him before turning his cold blue eyes toward the next opponent.

“Zenon! That’s enough!”

Albert, his face red with fury, slammed his hands on the table and stood up.

“You humiliate our father and insult us! Is that your goal?! This house will one day be mine! A third son like you has no right to interfere!”

Jealousy and insecurity bled from every word. Being exposed by his younger brother had stung Albert’s pride as heir.

“Precisely because you will inherit this house, I must speak.” 

Zenon replied, expression unchanging.

“The fact that you, as the next head of the family, have been unaware of this crisis—that is our greatest risk. Or do you want to inherit a house that’s already doomed to bankruptcy?”

“Guh… th-that’s—”

“If even a tenth of the money you’ve wasted on indulgence had gone toward analyzing our finances, this situation might have been avoided. Tell me, Brother—have you fulfilled your duty as heir?”

Albert froze under Zenon’s piercing blue stare. His pride shattered beneath the hammer of unrelenting logic. He could only click his tongue in frustration and slump back into his chair.

Then, for the first time, their mother, Isabella, let out a shrill cry.

“That’s enough, Zenon!”

Clutching her fan tightly, she shrieked hysterically. Fear flickered in her eyes.

“How dare you say such dreadful things! Bankruptcy—what an ill omen! These numbers, these graphs, they’re all lies you fabricated to disgrace us!”

Refusing reality and retreating into conspiracy—another reaction he had predicted.

Zenon felt no pity. He merely recognized it as another form of inefficient thinking.

“Mother, this is no lie. Here are the copies of the ledgers that support my calculations. If you doubt me, you may call the treasurer later to confirm them.”

His tone was calm, detached.

“But first, please understand this: if these numbers are true, House Arkwright will go bankrupt. When that happens, the fine dress you’re wearing, the jewels around your neck—all will be seized by creditors. You’ll lose your standing in society and become just another impoverished noblewoman, laughed at by those who once praised you.”

“Hii—!”

Isabella screamed, a sound clawing from the back of her throat. The future Zenon painted was the one thing she feared most.

“Even knowing that, will you still turn away from reality?”

Those words broke her completely. She turned pale, trembling in silence.

In the corner of the room, Grey watched the scene with bated breath.

Zenon’s words were like a surgeon’s scalpel—precise, merciless, cutting straight into his opponents’ weakest points.

He was overwhelming his father, the Duke—his brother, the heir—and his mother, the Duchess—using nothing but logic and words.

Was this truly the same master he had thought of as an arrogant young lord?

A shiver of awe and excitement ran down Grey’s spine.

“…Don’t screw with me.”

The silence was shattered by a low growl.

It came from Bertrand, the second brother, who had been silently clenching his fists the whole time. He barely understood half of the discussion, but seeing his parents and older brother verbally crushed filled him with simple, visceral rage.

“Zenon… you’re getting way too full of yourself!”

Bertrand kicked his chair aside and stormed toward Zenon, his massive frame radiating menace.

“Bertrand! Stop this at once!”

Darius’s command rang out, but it failed to reach his son, whose head was boiling with rage.

“Can’t win with words, so you resort to violence. Simple and predictable as always, Brother.”

Even as the towering figure of Bertrand closed in, Zenon didn’t take a single step back.

Bertrand’s fist rose into the air.

At that instant—

“That’s far enough, Lord Bertrand.”

A cold, resolute voice cut through the tension.

Grey stepped in front of Zenon, hand already resting on his sword’s hilt. His eyes shone with the unwavering resolve of a knight ready to protect his master—no matter who the opponent was.

“Out of the way, Grey! I won’t calm down until I smash his smug face in!”

“My master is Zenon-sama. If you wish to continue this disgraceful behavior, then you’ll face me instead.”

At Grey’s unyielding stance, Bertrand froze mid-motion, his fist still clenched. He knew better than anyone that if he fought Grey seriously, he wouldn’t win.

“…Sit down, Bertrand.”

This time, Darius’s voice carried genuine authority.

Bertrand scowled in frustration but kicked his chair back into place and sat down heavily.

Zenon watched Grey’s back for a brief moment, then turned again to face the family.

The air in the room had changed completely.

No one looked at Zenon as a foolish child anymore.

They now understood—this third son before them had become something terrifying: the one who now held the power to determine their family’s fate.

“Let’s put an end to these emotional outbursts. They’re a waste of time.”

Zenon’s calm tone carried the weight of final judgment.

“You have only two choices. Continue your current lifestyle and face certain ruin in five years. Or accept painful reforms now and ensure this family’s survival.”

He swept his icy blue gaze across each of them, one by one, before asking his final question:

“Tell me—are you truly willing to let House Arkwright fall?”

No one answered.

Silence filled the room—louder and more decisive than any reply.

It was the sound of complete submission.

Zenon gave a small nod, then pulled another parchment from his coat.

“Good. Since you understand, allow me to explain the first phase of my financial reconstruction plan. To begin with, from this day forward, all personal expenditures by any member of this family will require my approval.”

That declaration rang out like a quiet gunshot—marking the exact moment when the absolute authority within House Arkwright shifted hands.