The Wicked Wife's Dark History Keeps Coming Back To Haunt Her - Chapter 59
Saint Hennige Academy, a prestigious institution, primarily operates on a dormitory system.
This is because children flock to the academy from all over the country in order to enroll.
A large crowd was entering through the main gate of the academy.
These were parents who had traveled from afar, eager to see their children after a long time.
“Hey, no matter how much you look, your uncle isn’t coming.”
Ian withdrew his gaze from the main gate at Richard’s voice, smiling bitterly.
He knew better than anyone that his uncle wasn’t coming.
It was just that he couldn’t let go of the faint hope and expectation, however baseless they were.
“By the way, have you thought about it?”
“…Thought about what?”
“You said you’d think about it—the guardianship thing.”
“Oh.”
Ian’s eyes widened as if he’d just remembered.
“Anyway, you’ve decided, right? Then I’ll let my parents know later.”
Pfft.
Ian laughed.
It was amusing how Richard assumed he would do as he said, as if it were a given.
“Brother, I said I would think about it, not that I would act on it.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
“No, how could that be the same thing?”
Ian corrected Richard’s misunderstanding with the polite smile characteristic of a model student.
He had kept quiet, though being chummy with Richard was irritating, because it was better than picking a fight.
Ian had never once considered changing his guardian.
“Hey, have you been playing me this whole time?”
Richard’s face turned red as he realized he had been strung along.
“Playing you? You’re not a toy, Brother. How could you say something so hurtful?”
“Then stop thinking about it and just do as I say! I’m saying this for your own good.”
Since when did you ever care about me?
Ian couldn’t understand why the Marquis and Marchioness of Ulverni had sent Richard to pester him.
Did they not realize their son’s persuasion skills weren’t exactly convincing?
Or did they simply dismiss him as a child?
‘If it’s the latter, that’s pretty insulting…’
Ian glanced toward the classroom door and said,
“Brother, the professor will be here soon, so you should get back to your seat.”
“Ugh, I didn’t want to say this, but…”
Ian had a feeling he knew what was coming.
In a quiet, firm voice, he cut Richard off.
“Then let’s just pretend I didn’t hear it. Don’t say it.”
Richard’s face crumpled like a piece of paper.
“Hey, do you really think the Duke will just leave you alone if he has his own child? If you don’t want to end up like your father, dead—”
At that moment, Ian stood up with a cold expression.
Richard flinched at the look on Ian’s face, but only for a moment.
“…If you had any sense, you’d know what to say and what not to say. Or are you completely thoughtless?”
“You little…!”
Unable to control his sudden rage, Richard swung his fist.
THUD—
Ian’s head turned with the blow.
Wincing at the sharp pain in his lip, he wiped it with his thumb.
Blood smeared onto his thumb—his lip had split.
“Judging by how you resort to fists when things don’t go your way, it’s clear you don’t have any sense.”
“Hey!”
When Richard lunged at him, eyes wild, Ian grabbed a fistful of his hair.
“Let go, damn it! Let go of me, you bastard!”
“No.”
Ian tightened his grip.
Why would he let go and subject himself to a barrage of punches? That would be insane.
Just then, a large hand roughly seized Ian’s wrist.
“What the hell is going on here?”
A man with reddish-brown hair and eyes—the resemblance to Richard was unmistakable.
It was Marquis Ulverni.
“You’re dead now.”
Richard smirked triumphantly at his parents’ arrival.
‘Great, what a hassle.’
Ian frowned, rubbing his sore wrist.
***
At the Saint Hennige Academy’s faculty office—
Marchioness Ulverni was pointing to Richard’s face, angrily protesting to the homeroom professor.
“…We trusted the academy’s reputation and entrusted our son to you, but what is this?”
“I sincerely apologize. I have no excuses.”
“You do realize that if this continues, there’s no reason for us to donate large sums of money and keep sending him here.”
“I truly have no excuse.”
“Kids may fight from time to time, but as the homeroom teacher, shouldn’t you be paying attention to prevent this from happening in the first place?”
With the teacher repeatedly bowing in apology, the Marchioness turned her gaze toward Ian, who was standing next to the homeroom teacher.
