8 Chapter 8

Their grand carriage came to a halt before an imposing gate, its intricate ironwork standing tall and imposing. Elisabeth's eyes held a tinge of melancholy as they rested upon the gate.

"We've arrived," she murmured softly, her hand tenderly caressing Klaus's head.

Stepping out of the carriage, Elisabeth gracefully pushed open the gate, and it swung open with an eerie silence. What lay beyond was a garden of sublime beauty, leading to a majestic mansion that loomed like a sentinel of an ancient, bygone era.

As they strolled through the garden towards the house, Klaus couldn't help but notice the peculiar aura surrounding the dwelling. The house, though regal and opulent, bore the heavy weight of neglect, like a relic from a distant and glorious past, now abandoned to time.

Approaching the imposing door, Elisabeth paused, her gaze drifting into the depths of her thoughts. Klaus watched her, his curiosity piqued, until she gently knocked on the door.

"Shall we enter?" she said, a wistful smile playing on her lips as she pushed the door open. A long corridor stretched ahead, culminating in a grand staircase. There, seated on the stairs, was a man in his early thirties, his long black hair cascading over his shoulders. His blue eyes appeared empty, a melancholic emptiness that resonated in his voice as he called out.

"Elisabeth."

"Husband," she replied, her voice heavy with sorrow.

The man turned his gaze to the young boy by Elisabeth's side.

"Klaus," she said, her voice gentle and soothing, "introduce yourself to your father."

Klaus regarded the man before him, his father, with a calm demeanor. It had been his first encounter with his father since his reincarnation. The only male figures in his life thus far had been Roman and Raphael Lionhart.

He advanced slowly and bowed politely. "I'm Klaus Lionhart."

A faint smile touched Ludovic's lips as he turned his gaze back to Elisabeth.

"May I speak with him alone?" he asked.

"Yes," Elisabeth replied, her voice soft, before quietly leaving the room.

Ludovic rose from his seat and faced Klaus. "Do you know my name?"

"No, I don't," Klaus replied calmly.

"I am Ludovic, Ludovic Lionhart," Ludovic said in a dry tone. He paused briefly before continuing, "I'm sorry for being a shameful father. I lacked the courage to even see you when you were born."

Klaus gazed at Ludovic, his expression unruffled. He had been raised to harbor no emotions toward anyone in his past life, and although his reincarnation had allowed him to feel warmth and affection, it was reserved only for Elisabeth and the maids who had cared for him.

Standing before his father, Klaus remained impassive, devoid of happiness or sadness, simply observing Ludovic with a calm demeanor.

"In our family, survival hinges on strength. I used to be among the strongest, but now I'm just a burden, living off the family's resources. I lack the power to support you or help you reach your full potential," Ludovic confessed, his voice tinged with regret. He paused, then added, "Some are already aware of your condition. You may never excel in swordsmanship, but never give up. It will take ten times the effort compared to others to form a core, but you will eventually succeed. You might be labeled as useless, like me with a broken core, and the family may reject you, bully you, and mock you."

Approaching Klaus, Ludovic tenderly caressed his hair, his eyes holding a father's love and concern. "But if you never give up, one day your efforts will bear fruit."

"I understand," Klaus replied, his voice unwavering. "I can assure you that I'll never be at the bottom, even if I have to work a hundred times harder than anyone else." His words, spoken with the innocence of a four-year-old, carried the determination of a lionheart.

Ludovic smiled and said, "In six months, there will be the first 'Sword selection Ceremony' for children under eight, and you'll be five by then. I believe you'll excel."

With one last look at Klaus, Ludovic left the house, leaving his son to contemplate the weight of their conversation and the path that lay ahead.