The West Wind's Destination - Chapter 23
Bea Westwind. And Zephyr, the personification of the western wind.
Indeed, it’s as he said. It was the pseudonym she had once used.
Although many knew the name, few understood the true reason behind it, especially those not from the West.
‘Westwind’ was a name given to Bea when she roamed the battlefields with her master, mercilessly killing people like the harsh desert winds of the West.
Those who knew it as a derogatory term would not dare speak it in front of Bea.
But it was Bea herself who chose the surname ‘Westwind’. Her master believed an alchemist should have a well-known nickname. ‘Westwind’ was the first name Bea had chosen for herself.
Initially, as the butler mentioned, it was due to the magical windmills she designed.
“Everyone in the West knows that name.”
…A native of the West, then.
Observing the butler closely, Bea noticed the sharp features characteristic of the Western people.
That’s when it happened.
Bang!
The door to the drawing room burst open.
A tall figure strode in with large steps.
The first thing Bea noticed was the well-groomed, high-quality silver hair, shimmering brightly as if woven with threads of platinum. The cheeks were flushed, likely from hurrying. A prominent nose, sharp eyes that seemed not very amiable, and a strong jaw set in a tight line.
As he entered the drawing room without hiding his annoyance, he froze upon seeing Bea.
“It’s you…”
At his voice calling her, Bea stopped evaluating his features and naturally met his gaze.
Upon seeing his heterochromatic eyes, Bea commented in her mind.
‘He’s grown.’
He was much bigger and more robust than her old memories. She had thought of him as a large man even then, but it was surprising how he could grow even more. He seemed taller, and his shoulders wider.
As Bea stared at him, the homunculus tugged at her sleeve. Tug, tug. A small touch, but its intention seemed clear.
Bea stood up, giving him a polite greeting that matched his status. She couldn’t talk to him in the same way as before she found out that he was an Archduke.
“It has been a long time.”
He didn’t respond, only staring blankly as if he were in a dream.
“The reason I sought you out, I believe, will become clear when you see this.”
She had been casual with him before, not knowing his title, but now that she knew he was a duke, she couldn’t speak so freely.
“I would like to discuss accountabilities. May we talk?”
“Ah… Of course.”
While Bea pondered how to start the conversation, Aseph spoke first, his voice anxious.
“Why, how, why didn’t you look for me all this time…! I clearly, back then…”
Aseph stopped mid-sentence, looking at the homunculus beside her. His face turned ashen, whether he realized what had been created or knew that the responsibility lay with him.
Bea stated her purpose.
“I would like to claim compensation.”
“Compensation, you say?”
“Yes. I believe it’s the simplest and most straightforward solution.”
Aseph’s face paled.
“…Ending this with money isn’t right.”
“It’s fine. Since we both had a hand in this mistake, I won’t demand a high sum.”
And Aseph’s face turned pathetically crestfallen.
“Don’t call him a mistake.”
“No. A fair compensation will suffice to bury the mistake. I will ask no further demands.”
“…….”
Aseph looked stunned, as if he had heard something he shouldn’t have.
Did she say something wrong? But Bea’s approach was appropriate.
Alchemists these days deal with nobles like this. Things have changed a lot, but adapting wasn’t hard.
However, the duke’s attitude towards her was unusual, and she didn’t understand why. He wasn’t of a status to show such demeanor.
“Then, I consider my explanation sufficient. I’ll leave my claim with your servant.”
“B, but he’s my child!”
As Bea rose to leave, Aseph raised his voice.
“My child, my family’s bloodline. I cannot let him go like this.”
“…….”
Bea alternated her gaze between the homunculus and Aseph. Aseph had mentioned his ancestry before, showing how much he valued lineage.
But if it’s about that, he’s mistaken.
“Ah, no. This is not your child.”
Bea stated the obvious.
“How can it be your child when I created and raised it without your contribution?”
Murmurs arose among the butlers and maids, some nodding in agreement. Bea meant it as reassurance, but Aseph suddenly slammed the table.
Bang!
His stance was almost combative.
‘It’s as if he’s challenging me,’ Bea thought and instinctively braced herself defensively.
“I will make it up to you.”
Aseph declared.
“I formally propose to you. For the honor of Vilkanos and yours!”
“No! I told you already! This is NOT your child!”
In the end, Bea couldn’t help but raise her voice in frustration.
Their inability to communicate was the same as when they first met. Bea had met many who couldn’t understand her explanations.
Tolerating such people wasn’t difficult. But for some reason, her patience with Aseph kept wearing thin.
