Chapter 1412

Bernard’s question jolted Mr. Penrod from his reverie. With a lift of his gaze, he locked eyes with Bernard-the eyes that seemed to see right through everything.

“Indeed,” he said, “I thought to myself, maybe with your knife, taking down the Pines, the Stanleys, and the Lawrences would be more satisfying than doing it myself. After all, they’re your kin.”

Revenge-a vendetta like the one the Howards had-that endless cycle of blood for blood wouldn’t do. It had to be like slowly boiling three frogs in a pot over a low flame, making them turn on each other in their desperation.

If Yates was ruthless, Mr. Penrod was venomous, biding his time, orchestrating for years just to set this chessboard. And ironically, the pawns saw the chessmaster as family.

“At seven, beaten within an inch of my life, it was you who reached out, pulled me back from the brink. I thought it was salvation, not realizing it was all just part of your game.” Even suspecting he was a pawn, Bernard couldn’t help but feel the sting of disappointment, an emotion that seeped out, unable to be concealed.

All his life, with a father who didn’t care, a mother who wasn’t there, and a stepmother’s cruelty, even the grandfather who raised him did so only for his utility…

So at seven, when Mr. Penrod cradled a bloodied Bernard, whispering, “Don’t be afraid, I’m here. It’ll all get better,” he truly believed that he was his redemption, the life raft on his journey of growth, a foster father with genuine affection.

In his final moments, Mr. Penrod was indeed a fatherly figure, a mentor, the reason for Bernard’s tireless dedication to the Siren Organization. But now, as winter approached, the once savior morphed into a specter, encased in frost, forever chilling his heart.

was gone, leaving only Bernard shrouded

saw the shift in Bernard’s eyes, yet he seemed to have anticipated this outcome and felt

clash with the Pines was

nudging from the shadows, only reached a stalemate, not obliteration.

darkest thoughts to himself, but Bernard had already

this point, Mr. Penrod,

even if I don’t tell you, you would find out. So, it’s

setting aside all sense of loss, leaned back on the couch and gestured with

heirs; none can hold a candle to you. I was thinking, without you, the Laurences would probably fall into decline before long, right? And that’s precisely when Yates would make his move. I reckon, if you were to die in Area

Penrod’s voice was casual, as if discussing something utterly

being in the Arctic, a biting

of Area Opaca was, yet you let me walk into a death trap, sacrificing so

with

the Siren Organization. But when they began to massacre our members en masse, I recalled the Darkness and suspected Yates was the puppeteer. I considered confronting Yates with the full might of the Siren

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