David imdiately sat up from his bed and picked up the call.
"Hello, sir," he said, voice filled with respect.
Ulrich’s voice ca through—
and just like that, the warmth in David’s chest vanished.
"David, how’s the observation going inside the Tower?
Have you found anything new about the man behind WhiteNull?"
David swallowed hard.
His throat tightened.
"No new information yet, sir. I’m still trying to locate the man behind WhiteNull," he replied reflexively.
Ulrich let out a soft chuckle—part tired, part understanding.
"Take it easy, David. There’s no rush. Just continue your observation inside the Tower,
and make sure to report any strange phenona imdiately."
"Yes, sir." David nodded, even though no one could see it.
The call ended.
David stared at his phone, now heavy in his hand.
"Damn..."
He exhaled slowly, defeated.
All this ti in the Tower...
his mind had been drifting toward Fiona.
He’d spent countless monts lost in daydreams, smiling like a fool.
Junior Hunters even caught him spacing out, whispering her na under his breath.
But now—
Ulrich’s voice had snapped him out of the dream.
anwhile, in his sterile, climate-controlled office where even the air dared not grow cold,
Ulrich sat in silence.
A small, guilty smile played on his lips.
"David... I hope you find your own life."
"I’ve been too hard on you..."
His thoughts returned to his younger self—ambitious, bitter, and obsessed with legacy.
He had once cursed the heavens for not granting him a son.
So he took David from the orphanage.
Not as a son.
But as a vessel—
a mold into which he could pour his unfulfilled vision of masculinity.
Ulrich stared at the silent phone screen.
"I should never have stolen your life, David..." he whispered.
"I should have been content with my three daughters.
But instead, I took you—
and your future."
His eyes glistened.
The masculinity he once thought worth passing down...
was now the very thing
that had crushed another man’s path.
A man with no blood ties to him.
Back in his room, David stood frozen.
"Shit... I’ve been neglecting my mission," he muttered, voice low with regret.
"Fuuuck..."
He groaned, slamming the phone onto the table.
Fiona’s face flashed in his mind.
He sat down on the bed, hands gripping his skull.
"I’m not the MC in so fluffy romcom manhwa...
But... I don’t want to lose this."
He clutched his chest.
As if afraid his feelings would slip through his fingers
just like everything else he’d never been allowed to keep.
David was still sitting on the edge of his bed.
His eyes stared blankly at his phone screen—
now silent.
The call from Ulrich had ended.
But its echo still rang in his head.
His hand reflexively gripped his hair.
His breath was heavy, like his lungs refused to swallow the reality just shoved into them.
He let out a low growl.
"I’m no one... I’m just... a strong Hunter. I just need to be strong..."
BRRTT.
His phone vibrated again.
David glanced.
The na on the screen: Fiona.
The ssage was simple.
"Still awake?"
David stared at it.
For a long ti.
He didn’t reply imdiately.
His chest tightened.
Not from sadness—
But from wanting to be honest, yet not knowing how.
Eventually, he typed:
"Not yet. What’s up?"
The reply ca quick.
"I don’t know. Tonight feels... weird. Like sothing’s off."
David bit his lip.
Fiona was perceptive.
But she had no idea...
How deep the wound he was holding really went.
He wanted to type:
"I’m lost. Please help ..."
But of course... he couldn’t.
Instead, he sent:
"I feel weird too. Sorry if I’ve been acting... off lately."
Fiona replied:
"Not at all.
I actually enjoy chatting like this.
Even if it’s just texts... it feels like I’m not alone."
David smiled.
Bitter.
If only he wasn’t Ulrich’s puppet.
If only he was allowed to want sothing for himself...
His eyes slowly closed.
And then—
the mory ca.
A flash from the past.
A sharp-eyed little boy standing in front of a large, cold mansion.
Ulrich stood there, wearing a dark suit.
Face expressionless.
"Don’t call father."
"Call ’Sir’."
"I don’t need a son. I need an heir to my vision."
The child nodded.
No protest.
No tears.
He didn’t know what "vision" ant.
But he knew what "not being rejected" felt like.
Room by room, he walked.
Strategy books.
Photos of Ulrich’s three daughters—
all smiling.
But him?
Never in a photo.
Never ntioned.
Only trained.
Ordered to be strong.
Ordered to stay quiet.
"Never cry."
"A real man swallows all his pain."
The boy had smiled back then.
"Then I’ll be a real man."
Back to the present.
David opened his eyes.
Tears gathered—
but he didn’t cry.
He just... understood.
"I’ve followed enough orders.
I’ve been quiet long enough."
"Now I want to choose sothing for myself."
He reopened his chat with Fiona.
Typed:
"Fiona..."
"I don’t know if I’m a good person."
"I’ve been shaped by things I never chose."
"But I like talking to you."
"I like nights like this."
"If soday I seem different... please remind .
Because I don’t want to lose the version of that you t."
He stared at the ssage.
His hand trembled.
And in the end...
He didn’t send it.
Instead, he deleted it all, and wrote:
"Thank you. I’m glad you’re here."
Sent.
On the other side of the screen, Fiona smiled.
She didn’t know what wasn’t sent.
But she knew—
that tonight, sothing had changed.
Not big.
Not dramatic.
But real.
anwhile...
In the Tower that refused to stop being ridiculous,
while the world kept spinning without giving a damn about anyone’s emotional breakdown,
Lilith the Tower Manager—still fingering herself lazily—
paused.
Lilith’s resolve had moved even her lewd, milky heart.
Her fingers, still slick with sacred lubrication, rose upward.
Her black gown was torn, ssy, radiant in its chaos.
She sliced the air open—
a black slit appear.
"I have to intervene."
"I have to et my lovely son and daughter."
Nathan, still frozen in disbelief, watched the black slit open like a cosmic vagina of doom.
"Tower Manager..." he muttered.
And sure enough,
Lilith appeared—face flushed, eyes wild.
"Hello there," she purred.
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