Reborn as the Last van Ambrose-Chapter 42: What did you say Father?

Grim reentered the ballroom, his mind still reeling from the revelation that the elderly man was his grandfather. Cassius Van Ambrose, the White Death. He scanned the crowd, half-expecting to see Cassius again, but there was no sign of him. Instead, his eyes landed on Julius Luminaris, who was watching him with undisguised suspicion from across the room.

Grim looked away, not wanting another confrontation. The night had already been eventful enough.

[Your father is to your left,] the voice in his head noted. [And he doesn't look well.]

Following the voice's direction, Grim spotted his father in conversation with several nobles near one of the refreshment tables. At first glance, everything seemed normal. Rowan stood tall and dignified as always, nodding as one of the men spoke. But as Grim watched, he noticed something strange. His father's usual perfect posture seemed slightly off, and there was an uncharacteristic intensity to his gestures.

When Rowan suddenly laughed a loud, boisterous sound that drew glances from nearby guests. His father never laughed like that. Rowan's humor was subtle, expressed in small smiles and quiet words, not in raucous outbursts.

Concerned, Grim began making his way toward his father, but before he could reach him, Julius Luminaris intercepted Rowan. Grim slowed his approach, close enough to hear but not to intrude.

"Lord Ambrose," Julius said, his tone carefully neutral. "I believe we need to discuss your son's behavior tonight."

Rowan turned, and Grim was surprised to see a wide smile on his father's face. Not the polite, measured expression he usually wore in public, but something that bordered on a smirk.

"Julius," Rowan said, his voice oddly jovial. "Always with the complaints. What has you so troubled this time?"

Julius's eyebrows rose slightly at the familiar tone. "Your son cut off Verin Terras's ear in the garden. And then he danced with my daughter." His voice hardened. "I would appreciate it if your family kept its distance from mine."

The smile didn't leave Rowan's face, but something in his eyes darkened. "Is that a threat, Luminaris?"

"A reasonable request," Julius corrected, maintaining his composure. "We've maintained peaceful relations between our houses for years. I'd like to keep it that way."

Rowan stepped closer to Julius, the movement almost predatory. Several nearby nobles paused their conversations, sensing the tension.

"Then I suggest you teach your daughter not to pursue what isn't hers," Rowan said, his voice dropping to a dangerous pitch that Grim had never heard from his father before. "My son is far beyond her reach, and yours."

Julius didn't back down. "Your arrogance is typical of your bloodline, Rowan. The Ambrose always overestimate their importance." His lips curled into a cruel smile. "As for my daughter, she was merely amusing herself. The Luminaris have never needed Ambrose cast-offs."

"History," Rowan repeated with a short, harsh laugh. "You know nothing of history, Julius."

Something flickered across Julius's face. Not fear, but a flash of genuine confusion at the strange response. His calculated demeanor faltered momentarily as he studied Rowan's face closely. "Have you been drinking, Lord Ambrose? You seem... not yourself tonight."

For a moment, something like a shadow passed over Rowan's features. His smile faltered, and Grim thought he saw a flicker of panic in his father's eyes. But it was gone so quickly he couldn't be sure.

"Never better," Rowan replied, the smile returning with renewed force. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to find my son. It's getting late."

Without waiting for a response, Rowan turned away from Julius, spotting Grim nearby. His expression shifted again, the smile becoming almost gentle.

"Ah, there you are," he said, walking toward Grim. "I was just about to look for you."

"Father," Grim acknowledged, studying him carefully. "Is everything alright?"

"Of course." Rowan placed a hand on Grim's shoulder, the touch firmer than usual. "Why wouldn't it be? I saw your little display in the garden earlier."

Grim tensed, expecting the reprimand that would surely follow. His father had always cautioned restraint, control, discretion. Cutting off someone's ear in public was none of those things.

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But instead, Rowan's smile widened. "Impressive technique. I didn't know you had advanced so far in your training."

"You're... not angry?" Grim asked, unable to hide his surprise.

"Angry?" Rowan chuckled, the sound still jarringly unfamiliar. "Why would I be angry at my son for demonstrating his power? The Terras boy needed to be taught a lesson."

Grim stared at his father, increasingly certain that something was very wrong. Rowan had always preached caution, had always insisted that their family avoid drawing attention. This casual dismissal of such a public incident was completely out of character.

"I think we should go home," Grim suggested carefully. "It's been a long night."

"Yes," Rowan agreed, his eyes scanning the ballroom one last time. "We've accomplished what we came for."

As they made their way through the crowd toward the exit, Grim noticed that people were giving them a wider berth than usual. Word of the garden incident had clearly spread. Or perhaps they were responding to the strange energy that seemed to radiate from his father tonight. Something Grim couldn't name but could definitely feel.

They had nearly reached the entrance when Rowan suddenly stopped, turning to face Grim fully. He placed both hands on Grim's shoulders, looking into his eyes with an intensity that made Grim want to step back.

"You've made me proud tonight," Rowan said, his voice uncharacteristically emotional. "I want you to know that."

"Thank you, Father," Grim replied automatically, fighting the urge to pull away. Something about his father's touch felt wrong, too warm, too tight.

In the shadows of the corridor, Grim noticed a flicker of movement. His grandfather stood watching, his expression grave. Their eyes met briefly before Cassius melted back into the darkness, his presence a silent warning.

Rowan's grip tightened painfully, drawing Grim's attention back. For a moment, Grim thought he saw something move beneath his father's skin, like shadows shifting under water.

Rowan's expression softened further, into something that might have been affection on anyone else's face, but on his, it looked alien. "I love you, my son."

[Something's not right,] the voice in Grim's head whispered urgently. [That is not your father speaking.]