Silence settled heavily in the chamber after Don’s final words—You have been foiling our plans since the beginning.

  Eric felt the air tighten, the atmosphere shifting as if invisible hands pressed down on him. But he forced his shoulders to relax, softening his expression into something confused, harmless, almost na?ve.

  He blinked once, as though shocked the accusation was even aimed at him.

  “…Foiling your plans?” Eric repeated slowly. “I don’t… understand. How have I done anything like that?”

  Don studied him carefully, eyes narrowing in faint amusement—like he appreciated the attempt at innocence but saw through it anyway.

  “Acting ignorant does not suit you, Lord Vikram,” Don murmured. “But if you insist on pretending… let me enlighten you.”

  Eric swallowed, maintaining the facade. Alex stood behind him, silent as a shadow, observing everything without offering even the slightest hint of opinion.

  Don lifted a hand.

  “The most important,” he said, “is that you killed Alita. The orphanage director.”

  Eric stiffened—but only slightly, so slight that only someone like Don would have noticed.

  “And that,” Don continued, “ruined a vital part of our investigation.”

  Eric lifted his chin, keeping his voice calm. “…Investigation?”

  “Yes.” Don’s eyes glinted with cold irritation. “Alex should have informed you. We needed Alita alive. Not because she mattered—but because she was the only one who knew where he was.”

  Eric let confusion settle across his face.

  “…He?” Eric echoed. “Who exactly are you looking for?”

  Don waved a dismissive hand.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “Forget it. You would not understand. You are still a child in this game.”

  Eric’s jaw tightened, but he kept his expression neutral. The insult slid past him, though the weight of the implication—an unknown he connected to Alita—stayed sharp in his thoughts.

  Don stepped closer, his voice lowering.

  “But let me give you something valuable, Eric Vikram. A chance to correct the damage you've done.”

  Eric raised his eyes slowly. “…What chance?”

  “Swear allegiance to me,” Don said. “To House Ardyn. Declare loyalty, and I will overlook your interference. The plans you disrupted will be rebuilt. You will stand on the winning side when the dust settles.”

  Eric felt something cold crawl across his spine.

  “And if I say no?” he asked quietly.

  Don’s smile vanished.

  “Then,” he said, “you will make an enemy of House Ardyn. Not just me. The entire foundation behind us.”

  A quiet, deadly promise filled the air.

  Eric let a thoughtful silence stretch between them, his eyes shifting slightly to the floor. Don waited—patient, confident, certain of his looming victory.

  Finally, Eric exhaled.

  “…Let me think about it.”

  Don inclined his head, as though granting permission to breathe. “Very well. But do not take too long, Lord Vikram. Decisions delayed become decisions made.”

  Eric gave a stiff nod, stepping back.

  Alex moved with him, following silently out of the chamber. The double doors slid closed behind them with a heavy thud that echoed through the hallway.

  For several seconds, neither of them spoke.

  Then Eric finally murmured, “Alex… I’m leaving.”

  Alex blinked in faint surprise. “You’re leaving? Already? I thought you came here to train.”

  “I did,” Eric answered softly. “But I need to return home first.”

  “To House Vikram?” Alex asked.

  Eric nodded. “My house has been without its lord for too long. If I’m gone much longer, people will start asking questions. I need to make sure everything is stable before I do anything else.”

  Alex studied him for a moment, noticing the tension beneath his calm surface.

  “You’re troubled,” Alex said.

  Eric gave a faint, dry laugh. “…You could say that.”

  Alex sighed and reached into his cloak. “If you insist on leaving… then take this.”

  He produced a tightly rolled piece of parchment, bound with a thin ribbon of black and red—the colors of House Ardyn.

  Eric accepted it carefully. “What is this?”

  “Knowledge,” Alex said. “Basics of flame essence. It’s not full training, but it will prepare your body and mind for the real lessons. Study it. Understand the flow, the rhythm, the discipline. When you return, we will continue.”

  Eric nodded, grateful despite the sharp knot of unease still lodged in his chest.

  Alex stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low whisper.

  “Don is dangerous,” he said. “More than you realize. Do not give an answer until you are certain of your path.”

  Eric met his gaze. “…I won’t.”

  “Good.”

  A quiet understanding passed between them—one that had nothing to do with allegiance or houses and everything to do with survival.

  Eric turned, tucking the parchment into his cloak.

  He walked the long hallway in silence, passing the enchanted lanterns that flickered with quiet, watchful flames. The entrance doors of House Ardyn came into view, tall and imposing, carved with phoenix wings spreading upward toward a ceiling of polished stone.

  He pushed them open.

  Cold morning air rushed inside, brushing against his face like a reminder of the world outside these walls—free, dangerous, uncontrollable.

  Eric stepped across the threshold.

  He did not look back.

  His horse awaited him at the base of the stone steps, reins tied loosely to a post. The beast snorted softly as Eric approached, as if sensing the heavy thoughts weighing on its rider.

  Eric placed a hand on its mane, gripping tightly once before pulling himself up.

  He glanced once at the parchment in his cloak.

  Fire essence.

  Training.

  Allegiance.

  He exhaled slowly.

  “House Ardyn…” he whispered. “What have I walked into?”

  With a sharp pull of the reins, he nudged the horse forward.

  The towering spires of House Ardyn faded behind him as he rode down the stone path that wound toward the distant south.