The Protagonist's Useless Brother

Chapter 122: The Prodigal Son’s Return [3]

The heavy oak doors of Silverwood Manor stood wide open.

Alfred stood in the center of the grand doorway.

He looked like a statue carved from ice. His posture was perfectly rigid. His black suit was immaculate and entirely devoid of wrinkles.

Marcus stopped at the bottom of the stone steps. He felt a deep sense of exhaustion wash over him. The adrenaline of the long night had finally faded completely.

He looked up at the butler. He remembered this man very well. Alfred was the first person Marcus had seen in this world.

Alfred had treated him with cold disdain on that first morning. Nothing had changed today.

Alfred did not move aside. He did not bow his head in greeting. He simply clasped his hands behind his back.

He looked down at Marcus with cold, calculating eyes.

His gaze swept over Marcus from head to toe. The butler took in every single detail of his ruined appearance.

Marcus was a complete disaster. His sturdy traveling clothes were shredded and ruined. Dark stains of dried blood covered his shirt and jacket.

A thick layer of grime and forest dirt coated his boots. He looked like a man who had been dragged through a battlefield.

Alfred’s left eyebrow twitched. It was a microscopic movement. But it conveyed absolute, freezing sarcasm.

"You have finally come, Young Master," Alfred said. His voice was smooth and painfully polite.

Alfred checked a silver pocket watch. He snapped it shut with a sharp click.

"We thought we would have to wait for another week," Alfred continued with a straight face. "Or perhaps you would forget the way home."

Marcus did not respond immediately. He just stared at the man.

Alfred then shifted his gaze past Marcus. The butler finally noticed the others standing behind him.

The cold indifference on Alfred’s face cracked for a brief second.

A flash of genuine shock appeared in his eyes.

Alfred looked at the burden on Marcus’s back.

It was a small girl with pitch-black hair. She was fast asleep and drooling slightly onto Marcus’s shoulder.

Her clothes were tattered and filthy. She looked like a starving urchin pulled from the gutter.

Because of Ventessa’s illusion, the dragon horns and scaly tail were completely invisible. Alfred only saw a dirty, commoner child.

Then, Alfred moved his eyes to the woman standing nearby.

It was Elara. She was shivering slightly in the morning air. Her simple dress was torn at the shoulder.

She was covered in dust and dried blood. She looked to be around the same age as Marcus.

From her cheap clothes and unrefined posture, she was definitely a commoner.

She looked like a woman who had survived a terrible ordeal.

Alfred’s eyes narrowed. His mind worked quickly.

He then looked to the other side of Marcus.

A little girl in a pristine white dress stood there.

She had empty black eyes and pale skin. She was holding the hem of Marcus’s ruined jacket with one small hand.

In her other arm, she carried a small, grey teddy bear. The bear had a single button eye.

Goliath hung perfectly limp, playing the part of a lifeless toy.

Alfred stared at the bizarre group.

The butler’s brain processed the scene. From every angle and perspective, it looked absolutely scandalous.

The original Marcus Aldridge was known for his terrible behavior. He was a scoundrel who frequented brothels and taverns.

To Alfred, this scene painted a very specific, horrifying picture.

It looked as though the young master had brought home a commoner mistress.

It looked like he had brought along his illegitimate children as well.

The sheer audacity of bringing such a mess to the front steps of the Viscount’s estate was staggering. It was an insult to the noble house.

Alfred brought his eyes back to Marcus.

His expression returned to a neutral, flat mask. However, the look in his eyes somehow still conveyed pure, unfiltered disgust.

It was the look a man gives to a piece of foul trash stuck to his shoe.

"What is it this time, young master?" Alfred asked. His voice dropped its polite veneer.

The butler did not hide his contempt anymore. He spoke with the exhaustion of a man who had cleaned up too many mistakes.

"What new mess have you made?" Alfred demanded.

Marcus stood on the stone steps. He felt the heavy weight of the dragon girl on his back.

He felt the hostile aura radiating from the butler. He felt the judgment of the entire estate pressing down on his shoulders.

Marcus was too tired to explain. He was too drained to invent a lie about bandits and slavers.

He knew Alfred would not believe him anyway. The original Marcus had destroyed any chance of trust in this house.

Marcus simply looked up at the butler.

He gave Alfred a completely flat, emotionless look. It was a look of pure exhaustion.

"Nothing," Marcus said quietly.

His voice was hoarse and dry. He offered no excuses. He offered no elaborate stories.

Alfred stared at him for a long moment. The silence between them was thick and suffocating.

Elara shifted uncomfortably behind Marcus. She felt the venom in the butler’s stare. She wanted to shrink away and hide.

Ventessa merely blinked. She looked entirely bored by the human drama unfolding in front of her.

Finally, Alfred let out a long, deep sigh.

It was a dramatic sound. It carried years of deep disappointment and frustration.

Alfred shook his head slightly. He seemed to decide that arguing with the young master was a waste of breath.

"The Viscount has been waiting for you," Alfred stated coldly.

The butler stepped aside slightly. He gestured toward the dark interior of the grand foyer.

"He has been waiting ever since he sent the letter to the capital," Alfred continued.

Alfred looked Marcus directly in the eye. The butler’s gaze was piercing.

"And I must warn you, young master," Alfred added softly. "He did not seem happy."

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A/N:

Hey guys, give the novel some power stones, I currently need them to get more viewers.