Gunmage-Chapter 260: Bet on Lyra

"Really?"

Lugh paused, his brows furrowed. That was fast. Too fast.

So fast that it was almost certainly a trap.

But he couldn’t be sure. Not yet. Instead, he chose to test the waters.

"That is some fast work you’ve done there,"

He said calmly.

"I don’t suppose you’d blame me for holding some suspicions?"

"Not at all,"

Lord Vaire replied.

The man appeared entirely unconcerned by Lugh’s accusatory tone. If anything, he seemed almost eager to explain himself.

"There’s always been dissent within the family,"

Vaire continued evenly.

"Some rash individuals still hoping to follow the original plan—supporting one of your cousins. I simply selected the ones most likely to act on those intentions. That’s all."

"Oh really?"

Lugh pondered his words, his thoughts swirling behind his impassive face.

He spoke, his voice flat.

"For all I know, you could very well be one of them. And presenting these names is a convenient way to cast suspicion away from yourself."

Lord Vaire smiled. Calm. Unflinching.

"Quite the avid imagination you have there."

"Imagination implies fiction,"

Lugh replied coldly.

"A conjured thought. A fantasy. But what I just described is more than plausible. It’s entirely realistic."

The smile on Vaire’s face didn’t waver. If anything, it settled deeper, more measured than their earlier encounters. He seemed... composed.

As though he had come prepared for this exact confrontation.

He tilted his head slightly.

"Well, I certainly can’t change your mind. So I’ll ask a simpler question—what do you think?"

A brief silence stretched between them. Just the two of them.

All around, the hallway was alive with sound and motion. The crowd was being funneled further into the manor’s deep interior, toward the arena.

Nobles chatted quietly as they moved, their voices bouncing off the walls. Enji and Cassius had tactfully detached from the conversation, giving Lugh and Vaire space to speak without interruption.

Lugh finally replied.

"There are other things I’ve thought of. Other plausible scenarios."

"Enlighten me,"

Vaire said with a flicker of amusement.

Lugh answered without a pause.

"That you, Mr. Vaire, are using the strength and influence of my retribution-happy grandmother to eliminate rivals and purge obstacles in House D’Aramitz. That this is your agenda—and that this list of names is part of that purge."

Vaire let out a sudden, unrestrained laugh. It was the first time Lugh had seen such an expression break through the man’s composed mask.

"I certainly can’t deny that,"

He said after a moment, smile returning to its smaller, more refined version.

"However, my list is completely authentic. I may have my faults—but hoisting blame onto the innocent is beneath me."

Lugh studied the man, his gaze sharp. Then he responded with a single word:

"Alright."

He turned slightly.

"I’d advise you to schedule a meeting with my grandmother. Preferably after the duel—hopefully, it won’t take long. The quicker the better."

"That’s the plan"

Vaire replied lightly, before drifting away—slipping into another group of older nobles, his tone already shifting to suit his next conversation.

It was strange.

They had merely been trying to give their hidden enemies a misconception—a smokescreen—during this visit.

And now, suddenly, Lugh had been offered a list of potential traitors within House D’Aramitz.

Not vague implications or cryptic hints. An actual list. Names. At least, that was the equivalent of what had been promised.

Of course, they wouldn’t be able to accurately map out their real enemies just from that.

Suspected tampering was inevitable. But Selaphiel wasn’t someone who cared for collateral damage.

Speaking of Selaphiel...

That name had become something of a shield for him in social interactions. A useful tool for veiled threats and layered diplomacy.

It was becoming unsettling how much he had come to rely on her, even subconsciously.

Especially since he suspected those feelings weren’t entirely his own—most likely crafted or nudged along by the elf in question.

But that wasn’t the immediate issue.

The real problem was—

HOW DAMN LONG THIS CORRIDOR WAS.

He’d been walking for what felt like hours, and they still hadn’t reached their destination.

The Cross manor was massive, sure—but this was ridiculous.

Lugh grumbled to himself as footsteps echoed behind him. More people were catching up.

Cassius and Enji again—but this time, they weren’t alone.

Trailing behind them were his stepsisters—all of them—save for Aveline, who had gone off to who-knows-where. A few of his cousins followed as well, male and female.

And some newer acquaintances too. Nobles he had been introduced to, but hadn’t bothered remembering.

It might have seemed rude, but Lugh found it genuinely difficult to remember most of their names. They all blurred together.

Only a few stuck.

Anna and Drey.

Perhaps because of their striking introductions. Or maybe he was just superficial. He didn’t know. Didn’t care.

Someone bumped into his shoulder, jostling him slightly. He turned to glance at the offender.

"Rupert."

"It’s Robert!"

A few chuckles followed.

"Hey, Lugh, who do you think is going to win?"

Anna had already moved to match his pace.

Lugh responded flatly.

"My bet is on Lyra."

"Lyra?"

A chorus of surprise echoed from the group.

Lugh kept his face blank.

"Are you willing to bet otherwise?"

Unsurprisingly, Anna didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she turned to her friend—Mirelle.

"What do you think?"

Mirelle hummed thoughtfully.

"Hmm... On one hand, when someone bets on the obviously weaker side, it usually means two things. They’re desperate—or they know something we don’t."

The group’s gaze shifted—many eyes narrowing, all of them suspicious. They stared at Lugh.

Mirelle continued her analysis smoothly.

"On the other hand, Lugh’s new to our society. Which means he doesn’t fully understand the kind of power a Crown-level expert commands."

Everyone put on their best thoughtful expressions, like sages pondering some ancient dilemma.

"In other words,"

She concluded,

"I bet against Lyra!"

"Agreed,"

Lugh had the inexplicable urge to roll his eyes.

Then, the corridor ended.

The path gave way to a vast, open chamber.

A training hall. No—an arena.

Its current condition was anything but pristine. Rows of seats had been splintered and burned.

Deep, ragged chasms tore into the floor like open wounds. Charred scorch marks blackened the ground, evidence of some recent, violent conflict.

Everyone stopped.

Staring.

Stunned.

"What happened here?"

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