The ti was night.
In a dining room, sowhere within a mansion, several figures sat around a long table. To be specific, there were only five of them.
A man with fiery, side-parted red hair sat at the head of the table, dressed in a prim and proper navy blue three-piece suit. Even his tie, a deep burgundy red, scread of class and peerage.
To his right, a pale blonde woman sat, wearing a wine-red dress that matched her style perfectly. Though she lacked lavish accessories, anyone could tell she was rich at a glance.
One seat further down sat a man with his hair styled into a mohawk, making him look more like a rooster than anything else. A rooster with a golden crown.
Of course, the markings on his face were hard to miss—seemingly fresh, beaten straight into his not-so-handso features.
The "artist" responsible sat directly across from him.
Her fiery red hair fell in waves, framing her sharp expression. She wore a loose orange wine dress that exposed her back completely. Despite the daring cut, she carried herself with such poise and nobility that no one would think of slighting her.
Well, even if soone did, they’d likely suffer the sa fate as the rooster across from her—beaten almost black and blue in a single heartbeat.
Beside her sat a woman who resembled her so closely it was as if they were peas from the sa pod. The difference lay in her pitch-black bob-cut hair, darker than obsidian, and a presence that felt far more mature.
"What?"
The woman in orange, Henrietta, raised a brow at the man across from her.
Carlos’s shoulders jerked at being called out, and he instantly averted his gaze. He didn’t dare talk back, pretending he hadn’t heard her at all.
This reaction was new. In the past, their roles had been reversed—Carlos was the one who had overpowered Henrietta, both in skill and in personnel, treating her like a subordinate or a convenient foil.
But before this dinner, he had made the mistake of assuming Henrietta was still the sa as before.
When he tried to ss with her, he quickly realized his mistake. Instead of pressuring Henrietta, he was beaten to the ground until he could do nothing but curl up and cover his head.
Not even the guards nearby had been able to stop her violence. Only the man at the head of the table, their father, had been able to command her to stop.
Since that incident, their family dinners had grown unnervingly quiet. Only the clinking of utensils rang out in the silence.
"...Henrietta."
It wasn’t until after the al, when they were sipping wine, that her father spoke.
His voice was deep, cold, and emotionless. Even his gaze carried such pressure that Henrietta instinctively lowered her eyes.
"Yes, Father," she replied, struggling to keep her voice steady.
Her reaction wasn’t only because he was her father. No.
It was because the man before her, Alexis Campbell, was not just the head of the house, but the strongest known Platinum-ranked cultivator in the world—stronger even than Gula or Yifa, who were famous Platinum practitioners.
"I’ve heard you’ve made great progress in your cultivation lately..." He studied her from head to toe before closing his eyes. "Looks like the reports were true."
"Yes, Father." Henrietta bowed her head, her tone full of respect and reverence. "It is all thanks to Master, who helped reach where I am now."
"Master, huh? You an Sir Celery?"
At the na she had already long forgotten, Henrietta’s shoulders twitched. "No, not that phony cultivator, Father." She shook her head softly. "My Master was soone I t after I drove that man away."
"Hm?"
Alexis’s brows lifted slightly.
"So you t this Master by chance, not through a referral? And you didn’t perform a background check? Why wasn’t this in the report?"
His gaze shifted to the side, toward a butler standing against the wall. The man’s face was pale, his entire body trembling, sweat pouring down his forehead like water from a leaking pipe.
"T-That... Sir, I..." He stamred, fumbling for an excuse but—
THUD!
Without warning, his head dropped to the floor, rolling like a freshly harvested lon. Blood spurted from his headless body as it collapsed backward, convulsing violently.
"To think I entrusted my daughter’s surveillance to such an incompetent man... It seems my eye for people has grown weaker." Alexis pinched the bridge of his nose, as though restraining a headache.
No one at the table reacted as though it were strange. Even Henrietta remained unmoved, despite having just witnessed a man’s execution before her eyes.
After all, such occurrences were nothing unusual during their regular family dinners.
It wasn’t like she felt nothing from seeing soone die before her. The truth was, she felt nauseous. But her skills at hiding what she truly felt or thought had been honed since childhood. Because of that, she could keep a straight face.
"I don’t think he’s at fault, Father."
Still, Henrietta dared to speak for the fallen man.
"After all, it had been barely a week since I t Master Xu Tao. I issued a ban on talking about Master to others, which led to this secrecy and the incongruence with your intel."
"Hoh?" Her father raised his head, arms clasped on top of the table as if amused. "So you now know how to keep secrets from family, huh?"
"..."
Henrietta kept her silence.
After all, it wasn’t really a secret. On the first day Xu Tao arrived at their ho, Carlos had already t him. He could’ve spread the word about Xu Tao and notified their father. The fact that he didn’t was a mystery beyond her understanding.
The man himself also kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t even touching the wine before him, just sitting still, as if his life depended on it.
Silence lingered for a few seconds, pressing heavily against Henrietta’s shoulders. She struggled to breathe under it, yet she kept her gaze fixed on her father.
"Good!"
His next words completely caught her off guard.
Alexis laughed, smiling joyfully. The suffocating pressure he’d been releasing vanished like an illusion, leaving only a harsh-looking father smiling as he praised his daughter’s deeds.
"Learning to keep secrets, controlling information, and even finding your own Master... To think you’d grow this much in such a short ti. Color impressed!"
"P-please, it’s nothing, Father..." Henrietta bowed her head, accepting the praise as it was.
But in truth, she was confused. In all the years they had been family, in all the tis their paths crossed... this was the first ti she had ever seen her father smile. It was so startling she wondered if it was a bluff, and whether tonight might be her last supper.
"Good, good! Really good!" Of course, Alexis wasn’t pretending.
He was genuinely happy for his daughter’s growth—as a leader, a cultivator, and an individual.
"Now, all you have to do is welco your 20th birthday. I’m counting on you, my good daughter." He walked over, patted Henrietta’s shoulder lightly in good cheer, and then headed out.
After he left, the entire room let out a relieved sigh.
Nothing was eerier than a serious man suddenly bursting into laughter, after all.
"Hmph!"
As soon as the man of the house had left, the blonde woman—Carlos’s mother—harrumphed. "Little bitch trying to earn so brownie points... No matter how much you struggle, you’ll still fail in the end!"
Her tone was dripping with bitterness.
Not only had her son been beaten rcilessly before the head, but Henrietta hadn’t received a single reprimand for her actions. Worse, she had even been given words of praise and encouragent—sothing so rare it was more valuable than gold to anyone present.
When she finished spitting out her venom, she grabbed Carlos by the arm and stomped away. Left behind were only Henrietta and the black-haired woman beside her, still sipping calmly from her glass of wine.
They didn’t look at each other, but it was clear both knew the other was there.
Henrietta, summoning her courage, called out. "Mother... I—"
"Sounds like you’ve been doing well lately."
Before she could finish, the woman cut her off with a sharper, stricter voice.
"I’d be happier if you stopped trying to appeal to my husband. What good will it do you, trying to snatch the heir’s position from your older brother?"
"...!"
Henrietta froze as the reprimand cut through her. Every thought—happy news, sad news, even prideful words—dissolved into haze.
She felt bitter that even now, she was still treated as a thorn in her own mother’s side.
"If I were you, I’d stay on the sidelines, holding my breath, and living quietly." The woman rose, finishing the last drop of wine in her glass. "Stop looking at a throne you’re unfit to claim."
CLANK!
She dropped the glass, shattering it into a thousand shards, before walking out without sparing Henrietta a single glance.
After everyone left—even the servants who had filled the room earlier—Henrietta sat in her chair, her eyes flickering with tears she refused to shed.
"No...!"
With a sharp cry, she raised her head, her expression firm and unyielding.
"I can’t show weakness now..." she whispered like a vow. "I... will stop hiding! I will live as I want!"
’Even if it goes against my mother’s wishes!’
With that powerful thought burning in her mind, Henrietta stood from her seat and left. She couldn’t stay there any longer.
It was ti to return to her "ho."
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