From the rugged path leading from the castle to the forest emerged Fraia, bearing a plump wild chicken in her hand.

The formidable beast of Grimm Castle crouched at the border of the neighboring country, its gates wide open compared to when she had left. Three magnificent carriages, pulled by pure white warhorses, were parked beside the castle gate, each adorned with a symbol resembling a Bauhinia flower on the side. Several unfamiliar faces, resembling stable hands, were seated nearby, engaged in casual conversation.

"Warhorses pulling carriages? Who could be so extravagant?" Fraia observed the handsome warhorses pulling the carriages with a hint of surprise.

"Whose carriages are these?" Fraia approached the stable hands to inquire, perhaps due to her noble attire, the chattering stable hands fell silent, and one of them approached respectfully.

"Miss, these carriages belong to Viscount Belta."

"Viscount Belta?" Fraia raised a brow slightly.

She was aware of this viscount, the nominal baron who was the superior of her father. Though their territories neighbored each other, a tacit understanding existed between their families due to the powerful private army under the baron's command. They seldom interacted.

"Why would Viscount Belta come at this time?" she wondered, paying no heed to the stable hands as she walked directly into the castle.

Inside the castle, Fraia noticed signs of recent cleaning, with many cluttered items tidied up. As she observed the cleaned surroundings, she made her way slowly towards the castle hall. As she drew closer, fragmented conversations could be heard from inside.

"Why hasn't Baron Grimm arrived yet?" an impatient unfamiliar voice.

"The Baron went to the iron mines at noon. It's not far, and I believe he'll be back soon," responded a familiar voice, likely Mary.

"Does this castle lack anyone worth speaking to? It's truly a rural place, with not even decent tea or maids of proper quality."

"I apologize. At present, only Master Eric is in the castle. If..."

"Are you referring to this useless fellow?" The unfamiliar voice interrupted Mary's words. "What is he worth?"

Upon hearing this, Fraia furrowed her brows slightly, realizing that her brother Eric was also in the hall.

"What's going on?" Her voice, cold and composed, echoed from her lips.

With a frosty demeanor, Fraia strode into the castle hall, her golden hair swaying slightly with each determined step.

In her line of sight was a young man seated on the hall sofa, dressed in pure white aristocratic attire, with a frivolous demeanor. Behind him stood four burly guards in full armor.

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Mary and Eric stood nearby; Mary seemed composed, but Eric, with a pale complexion, remained silent with his head bowed.

"Who are you? Do the people of Grimm Castle have no manners?" The young man furrowed his brows slightly, eyeing Fraia up and down as if selecting merchandise.

"This is the second daughter of the Baron, Miss Fraia," Mary intervened upon seeing Fraia's arrival, hastily introducing her.

Ignoring Mary's introduction, Fraia handed the hunted game to a nearby maid and then turned around.

"And who are you? Is Grimm Castle open to just anyone?" she inquired icily.

"You!!... I am Oliver, the second son of Viscount Belta! You, a lowly woman, dare to insult me, even though you are the Baron's daughter..." The young man almost jumped up in response to Fraia's provocation, but his guards quickly restrained him.

It was Grimm Castle, the stronghold of the Grimm family. Although, in terms of title, the baron was subordinate to the viscount, everyone understood that this was merely a facade. The real competition was about their respective powers.

Perhaps shocked by Fraia's words, both Mary and Eric looked at Fraia with disbelief.

Ignoring the reddened viscount's son being restrained by his guards, Fraia's icy gaze turned to Eric beside Mary.

"Eric, no matter how you usually behave, you are my brother. With Father absent, you are the only man of the Grimm family present at this moment. But today, I am truly disappointed in you. I don't care what you usually do, but I want you to know that if a person lacks the courage to resist when their dignity is trampled upon, what is the difference between them and a corpse?"

Facing the noble youth before her with deep black circles under his eyes, her tone was cold, but to this young man, it was like a warm spring. If one didn't care about someone, they wouldn't even bother to criticize.

Scenes flashed through Eric's mind. His originally vacant eyes gradually filled with tears, and his slackened palms slowly clenched.

"I... I understand! Sister!" A hoarse voice burst from his throat, and Eric wiped away his tears with the back of his hand, then turned and hurried towards his bedroom.

Watching the boy's retreating figure, Fraia sighed inwardly. Despite knowing the reasons for her brother's self-deprecation, the shackles in his heart still lay with the Baron. Now, she had merely opened a crack with her words, and the rest was up to him.

Until Eric's figure disappeared from her sight, Fraia turned her gaze to the furious viscount's son, who was still cursing vehemently. She spoke indifferently.

"Aunt Mary, I see that Lord Oliver seems quite exhausted. Please take him to rest first. Father should be here soon."

Still in a state of shock from the recent events, Mary suddenly snapped back to reality.

"Ah... yes, Miss."

The seemingly frenzied viscount's son was escorted by his guards to a nearby guest room.

Fraia watched coldly as the group left, indifferent to the consequences of offending the viscount's son.

Though the baron and the viscount's territories neighbored each other, their respective titles were mere facades. This place was far from the Byron capital, and what mattered here was their power.

The Grimm family itself originated from a military background, and for a businessman like Viscount Belta, they were not someone to trifle with.

The reason Fraia did this was simple: she didn't want her half-brother to deteriorate further. Being worthless was one thing, but if a person lacked even a shred of ambition, then they were gravely mistaken, especially since the blood of the baron flowed through him.

Recalling Eric's demeanor just now, she sighed softly, her icy gaze gradually softening.

"I hope this lesson can rouse him," she murmured to herself, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. It was still early, and she planned to visit the training room once more to practice her swordsmanship.

In the reception room of Grimm Castle, chaos reigned.

"No one!!! No one has ever dared to speak to me like that, not even Father! That despicable woman, how dare she...!" Oliver's deep voice resonated with both anger and profound grievance, his eyes shimmering with tears of frustration.