Ulrich hadn't bothered to do anything else on the day he returned.
He took his bath and immediately went to sleep. The overwhelming exhaustion of forcefully obtaining a legendary core, enduring the mind-bending pain of the process, and surviving the long journey back had taken an immense toll on his body. By the time he finally woke, it was already well into the bright morning of the following day.
It was rare for him to sleep in this late, but it just showed how thoroughly drained he was.
Even now, he could still feel the lingering ache of exhaustion deep in his bones, clearly a side effect of the new core.
His body simply needed time to adjust to the presence inside him, which was entirely normal.
He sat up slowly, waiting a moment to take a couple of deep breaths before finally rising from the bed and walking toward the washroom.
He pressed the faucet of the basin, letting the cold water pool in his cupped hands before splashing it harshly against his face, allowing the shock to wake his dulled senses and soothe his tired features.
Perhaps because he had looked so exhausted upon his return, Monika hadn't even bothered him once since the sun rose, which was a welcome reprieve.
Stepping into his dressing room, Ulrich carefully selected his outfit for the day, as was his routine. Black silk trousers, polished leather boots, a pristine white shirt, and a tailored waistcoat, all cut from the finest materials money could buy.
When he was finished, he adjusted his cuffs, tugging them sharply a couple of times to ensure there wasn't a single wrinkle in the fabric. It was a small habit of his.
A maid who was currently sweeping the thick red carpet in the hallway flinched the moment he appeared.
"My Lord!" She squeaked, immediately bowing at the waist.
Ulrich didn't spare her a second glance, continuing his stride down the corridor.
The estate was already animated with the morning's work.
"My Lord."
A minute later, Monika hurried to his side, matching his pace perfectly.
"Do you require anything, My Lord?" She asked.
"Are they awake?" He asked her.
"They are. They are currently in their lessons with Lady Linnea," she replied.
"Linnea. Did she leave yesterday evening?" Ulrich asked, his eyes trained straight ahead.
"She did, and she returned quite early this morning. The young Ladies also woke early to begin," Monika confirmed.
"Hm," Ulrich nodded, just as Fabian approached from the opposite end of the hall.
"My Lord."
"Gather all the missives I have missed and a full report of whatever occurred during this past week, and leave them on my desk," Ulrich ordered.
"Right away, My Lord." Fabian smiled warmly and immediately turned to see to the task.
Ulrich continued walking, heading straight for the study room where the girls were currently being taught.
"Have you been alright, My Lord?"
He suddenly heard Monika's voice from behind him and unusually hesitant.
When he cast a brief glance over his shoulder at her, she instantly blushed at her own boldness and quickly averted her eyes.
"I am fine," he replied shortly.
"You certainly look wonderful, My Lord," she said quietly.
Ulrich didn't reply to that, but the truth was, he actually felt really good.
As he approached the study, Monika immediately stepped forward, reached past him, and pushed the door open.
Ulrich stepped into the room, and every single gaze instantly snapped to him.
"Lord Count Rubenhart! Good morning!"
Linnea beamed a smile the moment she saw him.
Yesterday, he had looked haggard, exhausted, and dressed in cheap, ragged clothes, and yet, even then, he had looked astonishingly handsome. But right now, properly dressed in his tailored attire, he looked radiant. Even more so than before he had left. There was a distinct shift in his entire aura; it felt purer, almost otherworldly. She couldn't quite put her finger on what exactly had changed, but she noticed it immediately, just as Fabian, Monika, and everyone else had.
Ulrich glanced at Linnea, acknowledging her presence before shifting his discerning gaze toward the three girls. They were seated at the trio of front desks that had been specially prepared for their lessons. The moment his gaze fell upon them, the atmosphere in the room visibly shifted. Esther, who had been positioned at the desk closest to the door, and thereby closest to him instantly scrambled to her feet. Like a startled fawn, she rushed to hide behind Airam, who occupied the desk farthest from his reach.
Reacting to Esther's panic, Airam had already stood up. Her hand shot out, her fingers hovering protectively over a pencil resting on the tabletop. The wooden tool had been whittled down to a point that looked unusually, almost uselessly, sharp, more akin to a makeshift weapon than a writing instrument. As for Hermione, she remained seated, crossing her arms as she leveled a wary glare at Ulrich.
After letting the silence linger for a brief moment, Ulrich finally stepped fully inside the room.
"How have they been doing?" He asked Linnea, his voice calm as he approached Esther's now-empty desk. An open practice book lay there, its pages filled with her careful script.
The lettering was slightly awkward, peppered with a few rudimentary mistakes, but she was actively writing and connecting words. Given that she was only ten years old, her progress was impressive. Beyond mere comprehension, her handwriting held a distinct, delicate beauty from his perspective. It bordered on calligraphy, each stroke reflecting an attentive and gentle spirit.
"Wonderful, My Lord!" Linnea replied eagerly, her face brightening as she watched Ulrich inspect the work. "Lady Esther is progressing wonderfully. She is very sweet and attentive. At this rate, I believe she will learn to properly read and write within a month, at least all the foundational basics."
At Linnea's praising words, Ulrich flicked his gaze toward Esther. She was nervously peeking out from over Airam's shoulder. The moment her timid eyes met his, her cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink, and she quickly ducked away.
Lowering Esther's practice book, Ulrich slowly walked toward the small desk where Hermione was. The older girl watched his every step, her ruby eyes narrowed into a hard glare. Ulrich calmly ignored her hostility, his attention instead drifting to the practice book belonging to her.
"Lady Hermione is astounding! She is learning the quickest, My Lord," Linnea continued, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm. "I am honestly shocked. She is definitely a genius among geniuses. It won't take long at all for her to grasp everything the nobility requires regarding writing and comprehension."
Ulrich flipped to another page, his eyes scanning the ink. While Esther possessed the most inherently beautiful penmanship, Hermione's handwriting was meticulously precise, perfectly ordered and rigidly structured. Flipping through yet another page, he noted that she hadn't made a single grammatical or spelling mistake. It was flawless.
When he finally glanced up from the book, Hermione was still sitting with her arms tightly crossed. Meeting his eyes for only a second, she haughtily turned her head away.
"Are you done? You are wasting our time," she snapped.
A dense, chilling silence descended upon the room at her insolent words. Ulrich did not speak; instead, he slowly raised his hand, pointing a single finger toward her. In an instant, his finger moved in a rapid, fluid motion. A luminous, beautiful crimson shape materialized in the air, quickly multiplying and expanding outward until it formed a glowing dome around Hermione.
Without breaking eye contact, Ulrich slightly clenched his index finger. Reacting to his will, the dome immediately shrank, shifting its form into a tight crimson cylinder that perfectly enclosed Hermione and her desk, effectively trapping her within.
"W… what…?!" Hermione gasped, her calm facade shattering. She stood up abruptly, taking a panicked step backward until her back hit the invisible wall of the cylinder. Along the curved surface of her glowing prison, runic patterns and spell symbols flickered ominously.
"Big sister!" Esther shrieked out tearfully.
As Ulrich turned his head at the cry, he caught sight of Airam springing into action. Using her desk as platform, she vaulted over the table, launching herself directly at him with the sharpened pencil gripped tightly in her hand. Ulrich's expression remained entirely impassive. He simply took a casual step to the side, dodging her airborne assault.
Airam landed gracefully on the floor, immediately whipping around to face him, the pencil brandished like a dagger. However, Ulrich's sharp eyes were not on the obvious weapon. His attention was focused squarely on her other hand, which was smartly concealing a real knife, attempting to use the pencil as a mere distraction.
Anticipating her strike, Ulrich suddenly lunged. He grasped the wrist holding the pencil, pulling her off-balance and yanking her forward. Just as he predicted, she immediately swung her right hand, the one wielding the hidden knife in a lethal arc toward his neck. With lightning speed, his free hand shot up, catching her second wrist in a grip before the blade could even graze his skin.
Now completely restrained by both wrists, Airam could do nothing but glare up at him, her dark eyes burning with murderous intent.
"I told you to stay quiet and behave yourself," Ulrich said, his voice ice-cold as he stared down at the struggling girl. "Is this how you interpret behaving yourself? By attempting to assassinate the very person providing you with shelter and food?"
"Release her," Airam said through gritted teeth, ignoring his reprimand.
"I will," Ulrich replied.. "Once she writes down a thousand times: I apologize for my impolite behavior, Count Rubenhart."
Saying that, he glanced at Hermione, who was staring back at him in dumbfounded.
"I—I will never do that!" She finally sputtered out with a blush of anger.
"Then you will stay enclosed in there for eternity," he replied, sternly.
Dismissing her entirely, he turned his gaze back to Airam. With a sharp twist, he tilted the wrists he still held captive in his grip.
"Nghh!" Airam let out a pained grunt. The sudden pressure forced her fingers to open, and both the hidden knife and the sharpened pencil clattered to the porcelain tiles.
Without giving her a chance to recover, Ulrich hoisted her up, throwing her over his shoulder as he strode toward her desk.
"Eeek! Elder Sister!" Esther, who had been frozen in horror, shrieked. She immediately bolted away from the scuffle, rushing toward Hermione's glowing cylinder in a bid for safety.
Ulrich ignored the youngest girl for now. He reached Airam's desk and placed the thrashing, kicking girl onto her chair. Just as he had done with Hermione, his fingers moved in a swift motion. He reproduced the exact same spell, weaving a luminous crimson cylinder around Airam, effectively enclosing her within an inescapable magical barrier.
He stared down at her then. "And you will not come out until you have written five thousand times: I will not attempt to harm the Count Rubenhart because I am not ungrateful."
"Let me out!" Airam shouted glaring at him. She pounded her small fists against the glowing crimson barrier, but the spell held strong, entirely unbothered by her strikes.
Leaving her to her futile struggles, Ulrich finally turned his attention toward Esther. The young girl was scratching her fingernails against the surface of Hermione's barrier, trying to pry it open.
"I—I can't!" Esther cried tearfully, her small hands slipping against the smooth barrier.
"Esther! He's coming! Run!" Hermione yelled from inside her prison, pressing her hands against the inside of the spell.
"Eeek!" Hearing the warning, Esther whipped her head around. Seeing Ulrich's figure approaching, she let out a terrified scream and scrambled away.
"D—Don't touch her! You pervert!" Hermione shouted.
"I am going to kill you!" Airam roared from her own confinement, still hammering her fists against the crimson runes.
Ulrich stopped and cast a glance between Hermione and Airam, utterly unfazed by their threats and insults.
"Write," he said coldly, before turning on his heel and walking off to catch the youngest sister.