Chapter 171.1

Chapter 171.1

‘Masturbation? Are you seriously warning me about that?’

Yuri felt completely wronged, but he couldn’t rush to explain.

The reason he spent so long in the bathroom wasn’t what they thought.

He was just worried something might be wrong. He’d been staring at his lower body, trying to figure it out.

He hadn’t even dared to touch anything. He was scared that if he grabbed the wrong thing, his bones would somehow twist even further up.

What could possibly be wrong with me?

He tugged at his clothes in silent frustration, feeling cornered.

“Always keep your posture sharp. Don’t act impulsively.”

“…Understood.”

Even while his pride was being scratched, that strange thing that had been wriggling against his chest kept coming to mind.

Where on earth did it run off to? He should have caught it without letting it slip away…

As he bit her lower lip, Maxim Solzhenitsyn looked meaningfully at his grandson’s broken forehead, the swollen cheeks with burst blood vessels, and the greenish bruises slowly appearing on his neck.

“You were lucky, Yuri.”

“Excuse me?”

“For the time being, stop hunting and stay inside the house. If your grandmother sees you in that state, she might have a fit.”

“Ah.”

“Let’s put everything else aside and focus solely on recovery.”

Was it because he hadn’t brought back any proper game that his grandfather’s gaze felt particularly harsh today?

Wasn’t all of this because of that damned beast? Yuri quietly clenched his fists as he climbed the stairs.

“Young master, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

A rare black-haired servant bowed deeply as she greeted him.

Yuri’s indifferent gaze landed on the edges of her hands. Several scented candles that her grandmother often used…

It seemed that her grandmother had brought in a new person. Although it had been a significant change after six years, Yuri didn’t have the luxury to examine the servant’s face as her head was already throbbing.

“Please take good care of my grandmother.”

Yuri staggered past the corridor absentmindedly.

The dining room was more of a space to create distance than a place for meals.

A cold, long table, as long as a railway, was placed in the center, with her grandfather and her sitting at either end.

Yuri’s grandmother always had to sit next to her husband, as it was the appropriate place for her to pour wine or water or serve meat.

Still, Yuri liked this painfully long table. At least during meals, he didn’t have to see his grandfather’s face up close, which was a relief.

“I heard an interesting story from the Minister of Justice. Apparently, you said something remarkable to the third son of that family, Yuri.”

“I didn’t say much.”

“They say the student council president accidentally omitted some operating funds, causing a few events to be canceled. Isn’t advising him not to apologize a significant remark?”

He asked with a teasing tone.

Clang! With a loud noise, a fork fell to the floor, prompting his grandmother to say, “Zoya, step outside for a moment,” sending her servant out.

“Because he’s the president.”

Yuri replied calmly amidst the commotion. The scars on his face had faded, and the memories of that day had become hazy.

As time passed, it felt less and less like something he had personally experienced. If that were the case, he decided to forget the useless memories and neatly hide the turmoil of that day.

While numerous dishes were being set on the table, Maxim rested his chin on his hand, as if urging him to continue speaking.

Yuri spread his napkin over his lap and calmly began to speak.

“Everyone makes mistakes. However, the reason authoritative figures fall is not because of mistakes, but because of how they handle those mistakes.”

It was evident from a distance that Maxim’s expression was filled with interest.

“If the student council president apologizes, people will start to doubt his abilities. They might even think there could be other mistakes he hasn’t confessed to yet.”

“…”

“Excuses satisfy no one, and apologies make everyone uncomfortable. Apologizing doesn’t erase the mistake; it only embeds it deeper.”

“Yuri.”

His grandmother looked at him with concern as she spoke so sharply. However, his grandfather continued to fix his strange gaze on him and asked.

“So what should one do in that case?”

“You need to choose a scapegoat.”

Maxim’s wrinkled face subtly stiffened.

It was around that time that an unexpected presence was felt.

What is it?

Under Yuri’s feet, the marble tiles were shifting. His nerves were on edge, but he couldn’t lift the tablecloth during the conversation with his grandfather.

However, one tile was definitely moving, and a small finger was crawling out from underneath it.

‘Wait, what the h*ll. Am I seeing things?’