I don't remember taking such heavy steps toward my father in either of my lives.
Not after coming back in the past with no knowledge of the unforeseen, not after learning about the possibility of his innocence regarding the Darkest Night, not today when Kaelith's arrival brought an immeasurable chance of both failure and success.
Yet, there I was, feeling the anxiety of learning something I shouldn't know about my father—about my family.
My heart raced with fear and anticipation.
Yusk is a comparatively small town between Nyxveil and the Velmoris Duchy, a fertile land home mainly to merchants, farmers, and scholars.
As the only town connecting Nyxveil and Velmoris, its strategic importance had, nearly 200 years ago, led the emperor of that time to declare it an independent territory ruled by a lord from the Taro family.
The Taro family is one of the oldest families serving the Imperial Court since its founding. Though they lack innate magical or sword aura power, they've produced countless imperial officials.
Given Yusk's location and the Taro family's history, it makes no sense that neither the Imperial Family, my father, nor Duke Velmoris knew about the massacre.
So, what is the secret? Who is the culprit?
I have no idea, but I am sure of one thing: the Demon Cult is involved.
Standing before the large wooden door of Father's study, I hesitated to knock. My hands were sweaty. Just what was making me so nervous and angry?
If Father was involved in this massacre, I'd kill him—even if it cost me my life. Hadn't I always been prepared for that? Even if I doubted his ties to the Demon Cult, even if we'd worked in silent agreement since my regression… I couldn't hesitate.
I knocked hard, clenching my jaw against the bitter unease.
"Come in."
Father sat behind his desk, glancing up from a document. When our eyes met, neither of us spoke.
I didn't step inside, as if the distance between us mirrored the gulf in our relationship—father and daughter, patriarch and heir.
"The 300,000 people of Yusk were massacred by unknown forces," I said first.
Father's gaze dropped to the paper scroll in my hand. His expression darkened, a twitch at his brow betraying discomfort.
"Robin's son jumped the gates and trespassed into Nyxveil Mansion to deliver this, I see."
"You knew."
He didn't deny it. His silence was answer enough. A sharp pain twisted in my chest.
Why? Why was this man always so impossible to read?
"You should forget what you heard from Robin's son and tell him to do the same."
I snapped. Striding into the room, I drew Slayer and leveled the blade at him. He didn't flinch—just watched me with infuriating calm.
"Who ordered it? The Emperor? Duke Velmoris?" My voice shook. "Or was it you?"
"Does it matter? You can't challenge any of them yet."
His indifference ignited my fury. "That's rich, coming from you. You have no idea what I'm capable of, Your Grace."
Father's eyes turned glacial. "Don't overstep just because I've allowed you freedom, Selentia."
The words hollowed me out. Had I truly let myself believe we understood each other?
Slayer didn't waver. "Answer me. Did you have any role in Yusk's massacre?"
A pause. Then, coldly: "No. The Emperor and Duke Velmoris orchestrated it. That's why Daniel suspects you and Nyxveil."
I sheathed my sword. "I'm going to Yusk with Rheon tomorrow."
"You're reckless. You think you can take on the Emperor and the Duke alone?"
"I'm never alone."
Thunder growled outside as I turned to leave. Master and Han Rao waited by the door, their feline faces unreadable.
Father's voice chased me: "Selentia, I'll handle this. You're not ready."
I didn't look back. "Then do your job, Your Grace. And pray I don't die before you finally decide to care."
The storm raged as I walked away, my wrath a living thing. The Emperor would pay—slowly, painfully. And this time, I wouldn't grant him the mercy of a quick death.
The storm outside mirrored the tempest in my chest as I strode away from Father's study.
Rain lashed the windows like knives, each drop a reminder of the blood spilled in Yusk—blood my father had ignored. My fingers twitched toward Slayer's hilt, craving violence, justice, anything to fill this hollow rage.
Then, unbidden, a memory surfaced—Xavier's warmth at my side, his low voice cutting through my storms like sunlight.
The phantom weight of his presence made my left shoulder ache.
Master and Han Rao fell into step beside me, their silence heavy.
"You're planning to march into the Emperor's jaws," Master observed.
I pressed a hand to my shoulder, where Xavier's claws had perched so lightly. The absence there was suddenly louder than the thunder. "I'm planning to rip them out first."
Han Rao's ears flattened. "You're scarier when you're quiet, Master."
The admission slipped out before I could stop it: "I wish Xavier were here."
Master went very still. Even saying his name felt like pressing on a bruise—painful, but proof something real had existed. He'd have known what to do. He always did.
Lightning split the sky. In that white flash, I saw it clearly—the path ahead drenched in blood, with or without him.
"But wishes won't slaughter emperors," I said, flexing my empty hand. The ghost of his scales against my palm faded like morning mist.