Leah's POV
As I walked into the Redwood Mansion, the first thing I noticed was the big ox head hanging at the center of the wall.
I stared at the ox's head and frowned.
That was the ox that took away my great-grandfather's life. I didn't know why an 83-year-old werewolf would want to fight an ox with bare hands. But I didn't know anything about our family history. My Father wouldn't tell me anything, neither did my brother Lucian.
"Sarcastic, isn't it?" A deep, mellow voice appeared behind me.
I turned back and saw a tall, handsome man standing behind me.
I hadn't seen Leo for so many years and I couldn't even recognize him.
In the dimly lit corridors of the mansion, amidst the vast shelves of ancient tomes and the whispers of the ages, there strode a figure that exuded an aura of both brilliance and skepticism.
Draped in a pristine white coat, Leo cut a striking figure. A pair of spectacles perched upon his straight and noble nose, serving as windows into the depths of his discerning mind.
His youth belied the wisdom that seemed to have taken root within him, rendering him a paradoxical enigma to those who encountered him. With raven-black hair that tousled ever so slightly, as if to mirror the disarray of his thoughts, and eyes of piercing green that gleamed with the fire of an insatiable curiosity, he was a sight to behold.
I frowned and asked, "What do you mean?"
Leo pointed at the ox's head on the wall.
"A poor old beast was angered, hence took away great-grandfather's life. Then, we frame its head on the wall for a century. Don't you find it sarcastic?" Leo raised his eyebrow.
"I only find it brutal and sad," I replied. "Why do people still keep the ox's head on the wall like that?"
"It was according to our great-grandfather's will. Before he passed away in his bedroom, he urged his son to cut off the ox's head and hang it on the wall. He made it very clear in his will that everyone who inherit this mansion had to keep everything intact."
"He sounded like a cranky old man," I mumbled to myself.
"He was a drunkard and he cleaned people's chimneys for a living," Leo said. "When he got paid, he would rush into the nearest bar and spend every nickel in his pocket on alcohol."
My eyes widened.
"Are you serious?" I exclaimed. "Our great-grandfather was... an alcoholic chimney cleaner?!"
"A humble root for a glorious Royal family like ours. Intriguing, isn't it?" Leo lifted his head to check on the ox's head. "His Majesty never mentions our family history to you for a reason, Leah. He never does anything without a reason."
He referred to our Father as His Majesty, which made him sound alien and distant.
I especially didn't like the way he talked about our Father.
"Our Father is the Lycan King. Like all Kings, he had to govern with caution and reason," I said.
"He's the great-grandson of a drunkard. There's nothing glorious about it," Leo said while walking me into his study. "Human beings are stupid. They invent ideas to separate their own kinds. That's why there are status, ranks, and titles. It seems that the more they are into it, the more they can't get enough of it. His Majesty the Lycan King is also biased because of the ideas implanted into his head."
"What do you mean?" I frowned.
Leo closed the door of the study before taking his seat in a comfortable armchair. The way he sat in the chair reminded me of my Father. There was contemplating, calm, and chill vibe around him. He looked just like an ordinary scholar. I couldn't see anything wrong with him.
After a brief silence, Leo asked, "Do you know why did our great-grandfather fight against the ox?"
"I don't know, but since I'm stuck in this room with you, you tell me." I looked around the study and found the nearest seat to sit down. Jalin was waiting outside. If anything happened, I would run out of the door before Jalin rushed in to protect me.
"He did it because his wife passed away. After sustaining years of beating and torturing, our poor old great-grandmother finally decided to take her own life."
I gasped. My mouth was slightly open, then closed. There wasn't a word coming out of it.
I was too shocked to say anything.
"After the death of his wife, our great-grandfather decided to fight an ox with bare hands. When he came home from his wife's funeral, he sat alone in the empty room, holding a bottle of beer in his hand. He finally found that there was a void of loneliness and remorse in his chest. A void that can never be filled by any kind of alcohol in the world."
"That's why he made up his mind to end his own life by doing something crazy? Like fighting an ox?" I clenched my hands, still having trouble believing whatever coming out of Leo's mouth.
Leo nodded slightly.
I started to feel butterflies in my stomach. "But that's ridiculous. He has been torturing his wife for decades. If he got used to belittling his woman, he wouldn't have felt any remorse! That's impossible!"
"For a pathetic heartbroken man, nothing is impossible. Believe it or not, that's part of our family history," Leo shrugged.
"How did you know about this?" I asked.
"Because as I said, this room was kept intact. I found our great-grandparents' journals in the attic. Even though they were a century years old, I could still feel the despair written between the lines.
I withdrew a bit and leaned against the back of the chair.
"You made all the efforts to bring me to this place just to tell me our family history?" I narrowed my eyes.
"No. I went a great length to bring her in order to tell you my story," Leo said.
"Frankly speaking, I'm not interested in your story, Leonard," I said in a straightforward tone. "We've got the same Father, but different mothers. Growing up, we were never close. So I guess we don't really have to pretend to like each other."
Leo took off his glasses and wiped them in his hands.
"What if I tell you that part of my story involves your beloved boyfriends? What's his name? Finn and Darren?" Leo said in a monotonic voice. Then, he put the glasses on again and took a glance at me.
I saw bone-chilling cold light shooting from behind the lenses.