My Crybaby Father is the Kingdom's Worst Villain
Chapter 52: The Engagement That Never Was.

Chapter 52: The Engagement That Never Was.

"Take your men and return to your Duke. I do not need aid that arrives only when the battle is already won." Ramiro said.

The lead soldier stiffened at Ramiro’s words, his jaw tightening. A flicker of something—shame, perhaps, or frustration—crossed his face, but he masked it quickly. The men behind him exchanged uneasy glances, some shifting where they stood, as if uncertain whether to follow the order or protest.

One of the younger soldiers hesitated, looking between his commander and Ramiro. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then thought better of it and closed it again.

The lead soldier exhaled sharply. "Very well, my lord." His voice was tight, his hands clenched at his sides. "We will relay your message to the Duke."

Ramiro gave him a cold, expectant look. "Then go."

There was no room for argument. The soldiers had no choice but to obey.

With a stiff salute, the commander turned sharply on his heel and mounted his horse. The rest followed, their departure swift and wordless, save for the sound of hooves kicking up dust as they rode away.

Esteban watched them go, his expression unreadable. Once the last of Alejandro’s men disappeared beyond the trees, he finally let out a slow breath. "Bold of you," he muttered, just loud enough for Ramiro to hear.

Ramiro swung himself into his saddle. "I don’t play games with men who send help only when it suits them," he said coolly, adjusting the reins.

Luzia, still standing nearby, crossed her arms and smirked. "You think they’ll actually deliver your message word for word?"

Ramiro’s lips curled into a smirk of his own. "I’m counting on them not to."

Aurelio, who had been silently watching the exchange, let out a low chuckle. "So, you wanted them to return and twist your words to Alejandro?"

Ramiro gave him a sidelong glance. "He sent them late, hoping I’d die before they arrived. Let him wonder if I know it."

Silence stretched between them for a moment before Esteban chuckled under his breath. "That will keep the Duke awake at night."

Ramiro nudged his horse forward. "Good."

One of Ramiro’s soldiers approached swiftly, his boots crunching against the dry earth. His posture was rigid with discipline, his face marked with dust and sweat from the preparations. He halted before Ramiro, fist pressed against his chest in a salute.

"My lord, everything is ready," he reported, voice steady but laced with the quiet urgency of a man eager to move.

Ramiro gave a curt nod. His gaze swept over his gathered men—each one standing at attention, their gear packed and secured. The air around them was thick with the scent of horses, leather, and the faint metallic tang of steel.

"Alright, let’s go."

He snapped his fingers.

The sound was sharp, cutting through the tense stillness.

A golden light flared beneath them, illuminating the ground in an intricate web of symbols and runes. The magic circle unfurled in an instant, stretching outward in a brilliant arc, its luminescent patterns weaving around every soldier, every horse, every piece of equipment.

A hush fell over the camp. The energy hummed, low and powerful, thrumming beneath their feet. Some of the men shifted, instinctively bracing themselves, though none dared to speak.

The sigils pulsed. The air shimmered.

Then, in the blink of an eye, they were gone.

In the span of a heartbeat, golden light engulfed them, the world bending and folding in on itself. A brief sensation of weightlessness gripped them, like the pull of a tide before it crashed ashore. Then, just as suddenly as it began, it ended.

The warm glow dissipated, revealing the grand halls of the manor.

The soldiers had vanished from sight, each deposited into their respective quarters as if they had never left. The halls, once empty, now bore the distant echoes of their arrival.

Ramiro stood at the center of the grand foyer, his heavy cloak settling around him. Beside him, Esteban rolled his shoulders, adjusting to the shift in space.

Luzia landed with a slight stumble but caught herself before she could fall. In her arms, Roldan let out a disgruntled huff, his tiny claws gripping the fabric of her sleeve. His slit-pupiled red eyes blinked once before narrowing.

"I hate teleportation," he grumbled in his mind.

Luzia adjusted her hold on him, arching a brow. "You were literally in my arms the whole time also you teleport as well. What are you complaining about?"

Roldan flicked his tail, unimpressed. "Doesn’t mean I have to like it."

Meanwhile, Ramiro had his gaze was already shifting toward the far end of the hall, where the grand doors to his study stood closed. The weight of unfinished business settled over him.

He exhaled slowly. "Esteban, with me."

Esteban nodded without question.

Luzia tilted her head. "And me?"

Ramiro finally looked at her. "You," he said, voice carrying an unmistakable finality, "will rest."

Luzia frowned and her grip on Roldan tightened, her knuckles whitening. The baby dragon let out an irritated huff, flicking his tail, but she barely noticed. Her golden eyes burned as she took a sharp step forward, placing herself directly in Ramiro’s path before he could reach the study doors.

"I don’t want to rest," she said, her voice steady but laced with restrained anger. "This includes me as well."

Ramiro stopped, his expression unreadable, but the tension in his posture was unmistakable. Esteban, standing just behind him, glanced between them but wisely chose to remain silent.

Luzia drew in a slow breath, her fingers tightening around Roldan’s warm scales. "After all," she continued, her tone turning sharp, "you agreed to engage me to the son of Duke Castillo without even telling me."

The words hung heavy in the air.

Esteban’s brows twitched upward, though he quickly masked any surprise. Roldan made a disgruntled noise in her arms, ’ an engagement with that brat ? ’ he thought as he could clearly sensing the weight of the confrontation, but Luzia didn’t waver.

Ramiro’s gaze darkened, the flickering torchlight casting sharp shadows across his face. His jaw tensed, but instead of answering immediately, he let the silence stretch between them, as if measuring the storm brewing in her eyes.

Finally, he exhaled through his nose, his voice calm but edged with steel. "We will discuss this later."

Luzia’s hands clenched into fists. "No, we’ll discuss it now."

Ramiro’s gaze flickered to Esteban. A silent question. Esteban merely inclined his head—he wouldn’t interfere.

With a slow, measured movement, Ramiro turned fully to face her. His voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of command.

"Luzia."

A warning. A restraint. A challenge.

But she refused to back down.

Her heart pounded, but she lifted her chin defiantly, meeting his gaze without flinching. "You made a decision about my life, about my future, without even speaking to me," she said, her voice unwavering. "You owe me an explanation."

Ramiro studied Luzia for a moment, his gaze unreadable. Then, with a slow exhale, he spoke.

"Luzia, who told you I agreed to such a thing?"

"Lord Castillo," she said without hesitation.

Ramiro’s eyes narrowed. "And you believed him?"

"Why wouldn’t I?" Her voice was sharp, edged with frustration. "He showed me evidence—the letter you sent him."

A flicker of irritation crossed Ramiro’s face. His fingers tapped once against his arm before he clicked his tongue in annoyance. Him and his dirty tricks. Never gets old.

"Come with me."

He turned sharply, pushing open the heavy doors to his study. The iron hinges groaned, the dimly lit chamber beyond stretching out like a beast exhaling in the dark. Bookshelves loomed against the stone walls, their shelves packed with records, maps, and thick tomes. The hearth crackled in the corner, the flames casting restless shadows that flickered across scattered documents on the polished desk.

Luzia hesitated for only a breath before following, her arms still wrapped tightly around Roldan. The dragonling grumbled in her hold but didn’t resist, his red eyes flicking toward Ramiro with mild annoyance.

Behind her, Esteban trailed in, hands in his pockets, his usual nonchalance failing to hide the sharp interest in his gaze.

Ramiro strode to his desk and sifted through a stack of correspondence with practiced efficiency. Within seconds, he pulled out a single parchment and extended it toward Luzia without a word.

She snatched it from his grasp, her golden eyes scanning the contents.

The signature was his. The seal was his. But the message—

Her breath hitched.

This wasn’t an agreement.

The letter contained nothing about an engagement—only a formal acknowledgment of Duke Castillo’s proposal of a marriage alliance. The wording was diplomatic but unmistakably distant. Noncommittal.

Luzia’s grip on the parchment tightened, heat creeping up her neck. She could almost hear Castillo’s voice, smooth and assured, as he dangled this half-truth before her, expecting her to accept it without question.

She exhaled sharply, pressing her lips together.

Ramiro leaned against the edge of his desk, arms crossed over his chest. The firelight cast sharp lines across his face, his expression impassive.

"You let yourself be deceived too easily," he said, his voice even. "Did you truly think I would arrange such a thing without speaking to you first?"

Luzia’s jaw clenched. "You could have told me yourself instead of letting me hear it from someone else."

A muscle ticked in Ramiro’s jaw. "Perhaps," he admitted. "But I had no intention of entertaining Castillo’s request in the first place. There was nothing to tell."

Luzia inhaled slowly, steadying herself. The anger still simmered, but now it tangled with something else—frustration, not just at Castillo, but at herself.

Ramiro watched her, his gaze calculating. Then, he turned to Esteban.

"Castillo moves fast," he said, his tone thoughtful. "Too fast. He was waiting for her reaction."

Esteban hummed in agreement, rubbing his jaw. "He wanted to see how much control you actually have over Luzia."

A bitter smirk ghosted across Ramiro’s lips. "And now he has his answer."

Luzia stiffened. "What answer?"

Ramiro’s gaze locked onto hers. "That you would defy me if pushed hard enough."

Her breath caught.

Realization struck. Castillo had never expected her to agree—he had wanted her to fight.

Castillo had never expected her to accept the engagement without protest—he had wanted her to fight it. To push back. To test whether there was a divide between her and Ramiro that he could exploit.

And she had given him exactly what he wanted.

Silence settled, thick with unspoken understanding.

Finally, Luzia exhaled, her grip on the letter loosening. "So, what now?"

Ramiro plucked the parchment from her fingers, his eyes steady. "Now, we make sure Castillo understands that playing games with you means playing games with me."