Chapter 168: Send Her Away

Geoffrey collapsed into his chair, his mind racing. Oliver in trouble? Impossible. He was in Eastonburg suppressing bandits—more than capable of handling such a mission. So why hadn't there been any word from him? The court had received no reports from Oliver regarding his campaign either.

Geoffrey's thoughts churned, and with sudden urgency, he rushed to the Princess's estate. If anything had happened to Oliver, the Princess would surely know.

As he arrived at the Princess's estate, she was just stepping down from her carriage, having returned from the palace. Her eyes were slightly red, her voice choked—as if she had been crying. Geoffrey's heart sank.

"Geoffrey, what brings you here?" she asked, slightly taken aback.

Geoffrey studied her closely and couldn't ignore the worry creeping into his voice. "May I have a word with you? Just a few sentences."

The Princess glanced at him, then nodded. "Come inside, and we'll talk."

Once inside the main hall, she dismissed the attendants and motioned for Geoffrey to sit. "What's wrong, Geoffrey? You look like you've lost your wits."

She and Geoffrey were quite familiar, often speaking casually without titles, so her words were warm yet tinged with concern.

Geoffrey hesitated, then asked directly, his voice heavy with dread: "Please tell me the truth—has something happened to Oliver?"

The Princess froze for a moment. "What do you mean?"

Geoffrey took a step closer, his expression darkening. "Has something happened to him? Is he in danger?"

"Who told you this?" the Princess asked, her tone sharp.

"I don't care about that," Geoffrey replied, his anxiety growing. "Just tell me if it's true. If Oliver has met with misfortune because of this betrothal, it means Isolde really is the disaster they spoke of—the spiritualist's star of doom… Prunella's death was her doing."

The Princess stared at Geoffrey, clearly surprised by the depth of his concern for Oliver. Then it clicked—it was because of Isolde. The girl must have truly cared for Oliver.

"Did Isolde send you to ask?" the Princess asked softly.

"Yes," Geoffrey answered without hesitation.

The Princess sighed, her eyes reddening once more as she spoke. "I'm glad you're thinking of Isolde and worrying for her, but yes. Oliver is in trouble. It's likely he won't be coming back. You should try to talk to Isolde. Their relationship wasn't very deep—after a while, she'll be alright. She'll find another suitable match. But this is just… such a tragedy. First, the engagement was called off, then the second one wasn't even formalized, yet Pablo announced it as if it were already set. And now this. It's so unfair. The poor girl."

Geoffrey's lips curled into a bitter smile. "Unfair? More like fatal."

The Princess flinched, her expression turning sharp. "What did you just say?"

Geoffrey's coldness was palpable as he shook his head. "I misspoke. I've always respected Oliver, and hearing of his troubles has thrown me off balance."

The Princess was having none of it. "Don't tell me you still believe it's Isolde who killed Prunella! There's no such thing as a star of doom or cursed people. Those are just superstitions invented by charlatans! You're a high-ranking official—how could you believe such nonsense?"

Geoffrey's voice grew quieter but no less firm. "There are forces in the world we don't fully understand, Princess. It's wise to approach them with reverence. You should be cautious in dismissing such things."

The Princess was seething with anger now. "I thought you were concerned for Isolde, but you've come here with these ridiculous ideas. Geoffrey, I am deeply disappointed in you. I warn you—do not do anything to harm Isolde. She has suffered enough."

Geoffrey's expression remained unchanged, his voice as distant as ever. "Princess, my family matters are my own. I suggest you stay out of them."

With that, he turned and left the room, his words cold as ice.

The Princess, stunned by his sudden departure, muttered to herself, "How could such a father exist? Prunella truly must have been blind."

Back at his estate, Geoffrey was quickly informed that Prudence's condition had worsened. He wasted no time and immediately made his way to Blesertin.

Clark was in the room, tending to his grandmother. When he saw Geoffrey enter, he spoke quietly, "Father, Grandmother… she coughed up blood just now."

Prudence lay on the bed, her eyes half-closed, a trail of blood at the corner of her lips. Priscilla was gently wiping her face.

As Geoffrey approached, Prudence slowly opened her eyes, her lips curling into a faint, lifeless smile. "Prunella has come for me," she whispered.

Geoffrey's blood ran cold. He looked around in a panic before leaning closer to Prudence. "Mother, you… you saw her?"

Prudence gasped for air, her body trembling. Then, with a heartbreaking sob, she cried, "Prunella, don't be angry with him. Don't look at him like that. He's your husband, you know. I'll be with you soon…"

Geoffrey's chest tightened, his heart wrenching as he scanned the room, his voice trembling. "Prunella… is that you? Have you come?"

Priscilla, frightened, quickly interrupted. "Geoffrey, don't say things like that! It's just a hallucination. Mother is ill. Prunella has been gone for so many years—how could she be here? If her soul were still around, she would have been reborn by now."

"No…" Prudence gasped again, her chest heaving, her face turning purple as she struggled for breath. But with one final effort, she whispered, "She's here… right behind you, Geoffrey."

Priscilla gasped in fear and moved closer to her mother. "Mother, please don't scare me like that!"

Geoffrey spun around quickly, but there was no one behind him. Only the wind stirred, carrying a soft, eerie whistle.

"Prunella, is it you?" Geoffrey called out into the emptiness, his voice hoarse and desperate.

The only sound that answered was the wind.

"Answer me, if you're truly here," Geoffrey's voice cracked with emotion.

Clark stepped forward, gently placing a hand on his father's shoulder. "Father, Mother's not here. It's just a hallucination."

Geoffrey trembled, his lips quivering as he tried to hold back tears. She's here. She has to be here. After all these years, her spirit must be filled with anger toward me.

Slowly, he turned away, and Prudence collapsed into unconsciousness.

Priscilla screamed for help, Clark rushed to fetch medicine, Vance pressed his fingers to her pulse, and Braden sobbed desperately over her bed. The chaotic scene played out like a nightmare.

For Geoffrey, it all felt unreal—like a twisted dream. The world seemed to warp around him, everything feeling distant and foreign. He staggered out of the room, the cold autumn wind biting at his skin.

"Autumn is here," Geoffrey murmured softly to himself, a trace of coldness flickering in his eyes.

Harlan approached, his voice low. "Geoffrey, don't believe in such absurdities."

Geoffrey turned to him, his voice flat and emotionless. "I know where your heart lies—with the Pearl Tower. But let me ask you this—am I still your master?"

Harlan blinked, taken aback. "Of course, you are."

"She trusts you…" Geoffrey said, his gaze piercing. "Send her back to Windermount. It will be for everyone's good. She's said before that she wants to return—honor her wish. If you can't do this, then don't bother coming near me again."

With that, Geoffrey strode away, his footsteps heavy.

Harlan stood frozen for a long moment, unable to speak. Finally, a bitter smile tugged at his lips. So this is the real reason he's been friendly with Isolde—to use his connection for something like this.

With a resigned sigh, Harlan began walking slowly away from Blesertin. It was truly autumn now. The chill in the air seemed to pierce right through to the heart.