Inside a luxurious room, Cal sat at a round table, an amulet functioning as an audio pyer resting in front of him.

  At this moment, he was using an illusion amulet to disguise his face, age, and body proportions—even masking his face with a clown mask.

  A knock at the door broke the silence.

  "Come in," Cal said.

  An old man with a beard and gsses entered, carrying a disk-like item.

  "Here’s the recording, Boss. It covers everything from early evening until midnight," the old man said as he handed over the disk.

  "Got it." Cal took the disk, dismissing the old man with a nod.

  The old man bowed slightly before leaving, shutting the door behind him.

  Earlier, while in Sophia’s room, Cal had secretly pced an amulet on Ivanna’s colr. It served as a real-time audio transmitter, allowing him to monitor her activities remotely.

  In addition, he had covertly instructed someone, through a ‘Messenger,’ to record everything captured by the amulet—documenting Ivanna’s full conversations and movements from early evening until now.

  And now, the recording was finally in his hands.

  Without dey, Cal inserted the recorder into the audio pyer and pyed it at 11 times the normal speed, skipping moments of complete silence.

  For an ordinary person, deciphering such rapid pyback would be impossible. But for Cal, a spell-caster, it was effortless. Spell-casting, unlike other forms of mana usage, required immense mental calcution and processing power. And for someone like Cal, proficient in high-tier spell-casting, processing information at this speed was trivial.

  Within minutes, he had absorbed the entire recording—including the less-than-pleasant details of Ivanna’s interactions with Boris.

  Leaning back in his chair, Cal closed his eyes, deep in thought.

  He was weighing his next move.

  The amulet he had pnted on Ivanna’s colr wasn’t just a listening device—it was also embedded with an explosive spell. His pn was simple: if Ivanna revealed anything about him or Sophia to the Smirnovas, he would send a signal to detonate it. While his bloodline ability had confirmed that Ivanna had no intention of exposing them, he wasn’t about to let his guard down.

  The Smirnova family’s bloodline ability was notoriously tricky, and given their open hostility toward the Kovalevskas, Cal needed absolute certainty that Ivanna was free of their influence.

  But now, he had to reconsider everything.

  Ivanna had indeed exposed some of the Kovalevska family’s inner workings—but only under duress. At the same time, she had deliberately withheld critical information: his visit to the Kovalevska mansion and Seraphix.

  But it wouldn’t remain hidden for long. The Smirnova head would likely detain her for further interrogation. And when that happened, there would be nothing left for her to conceal.

  "It’d be easier if I just activated the explosion..." Cal muttered.

  There was an alternative—helping Ivanna escape. But that was far too dangerous, even for him. Infiltrating a high-ranking noble’s estate in the Maurya Empire was nearly impossible due to the yers of security in pce. Even spying from a distance was a risk.

  That was why Cal had been so surprised when Ivanna effortlessly infiltrated the Kovalevska Mansion—bypassing every yer of security, even slipping past his own sharpened senses.

  Then, a realization struck him.

  "If they realize what she’s capable of, they’ll use her for even more infiltrations in the future. Letting her live is too dangerous."

  Cal pulled out a separate amulet—a trigger for the explosion spell. His fingers hovered over the button.

  But just as he was about to press it, he stopped.

  A memory surfaced—Sophia’s face, bright with happiness, as she chatted with Ivanna just hours ago.

  Cal hesitated for several minutes before exhaling deeply and withdrawing his hand.

  "She cried over the death of someone who tried to kill her mother. What kind of face would she make if she found out Ivanna had died?"

  He leaned back in his chair, draping an arm over his face.

  "This is absurd. Infiltrating a high-ranking noble mansion? Even a stray dog would think twice before leaving its waste near that mansion. Calyxianov, this time… you're definitely going to die."

  He mumbled to himself for a few moments, letting his frustration seep into every word.

  When he was done, he lowered his arm from his face and stared at the ceiling.

  "Just make it quick," Cal muttered, his decision made.

  Without hesitation, he began preparing for the infiltration mission.

  Once ready, he took the explosive trigger and crushed it in his hand, ensuring there was no turning back. Keeping multiple options now would only cloud his focus.

  Finally, he retrieved an ornate golden knife—Nullcutter—and inspected it.

  "I guess it’s time to put this to the test."

  ***

  Late at night, inside an opulent room, Boris slowly opened his eyes.

  He sat up in bed, his movements sluggish and heavy.

  Running a hand through his hair, he clenched it tightly.

  "I did it again," he whispered.

  This wasn’t what he had intended. He had only pnned to see Ivanna after so long—especially after her grueling expedition.

  But things had escated. Again.

  "No… she was the one at fault. How dare she attack me, her kind brother? She deserved to be disciplined."

  Letting go of his hair, Boris turned his gaze to Ivanna, lying still on his bed.

  "Don't worry," he muttered, reaching out to touch her head. "I'm a kind brother, so I forgive you for trying to kill me earlier."

  But just as his hand neared her, he stopped.

  A memory from their earlier interaction resurfaced.

  His bloodline ability, Perceptual Validation, allowed him to manipute the pain of others. But it also made him feel their pain.

  And now, with crity settling in, he could recall exactly how much agony he had inflicted on Ivanna in his rage.

  He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth.

  "Why did I do that…?" he muttered.

  Shaking off the thought, he grabbed his bathrobe, draped it over himself, and stood up. Without another gnce at Ivanna, he turned and made his way toward the bathroom.

  He pushed the door open and smmed it shut behind him.

  Standing at the sink, he spshed cold water onto his face, gripping the edges of the basin as he stared downward.

  "No… this is normal. Everyone does it. Father, Mother, my brothers, my sisters… I'm not in the wrong. I'm a good brother to Ivanna. I'm not like the others. They're the ones who are bad…"

  He kept mumbling, trying to convince himself. Trying to push away the doubt gnawing at the edges of his mind.

  Minutes passed before his breathing steadied. Slowly, he lifted his head and looked at his reflection in the mirror.

  And what he saw sent a chill down his spine.

  His face was weary, his eyes bloodshot from the lingering poison. But the thing that disturbed him most was the smirk stretched across his lips.

  It was his father’s smirk.

  The same one he had seen countless times when his father was with Ivanna’s mother, Ana.

  His body reacted before his mind did.

  With a sudden burst of rage, Boris smmed his fist into the mirror, shattering his own reflection.

  "No, no, no, NO! I'm not like him! I'm different!" he shouted, his voice rising with each word.

  Then, suddenly—an idea struck him.

  "Ivanna will understand. She’ll tell me I’m not like Father. Yes… my beautiful Ivanna will tell me the truth."

  Fueled by desperation, he turned and rushed toward the bathroom door.

  But just as he reached for the handle—he froze.

  "Who…?"

  Someone was standing on the other side.

  They had no presence at all. The only reason Boris even sensed them was because they carried pain—pain he could feel through his bloodline ability.

  Before he could react, a hand shot through the door.

  A knife in its grip.

  The knife plunged into his chest—straight into his heart.

  His eyes widened.

  'What…? My barrier…?'

  Confusion clouded his mind. He could have dodged the attack, but he hadn’t. It was a simple strike, completely devoid of mana—something his barrier should have repelled effortlessly.

  Or so he thought.

  His gaze dropped to the weapon embedded in his chest.

  The bde was golden, its surface adorned with intricate carvings.

  'An artifact—'

  Before he could finish the thought, the knife twisted.

  A sharp, merciless motion.

  Pain erupted inside him as his insides were torn apart. The entire process took less than a second.

  Desperation kicked in.

  With what little strength he had left, Boris shed out, delivering a powerful kick to the door. The force sent both the door and his attacker flying.

  Blood spilled from his mouth as he colpsed to his knees.

  Gritting his teeth, he tore his bathrobe, pressing the fabric against his wound in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding.

  But before he could finish, a shadow loomed over him.

  He looked up.

  The figure from before now stood before him in full view.

  A man cd in dark clothing, his face concealed behind a clown mask—one with a hollow, eerie smile.

  OnlyCat