Just as he was about to speak, perhaps to reiterate his demands further, his head tilted slightly. His expression, usually so calm and non-chalant, now held a subtle shift, a flicker of awareness.
"I sense soone coming to the courtyard," Herald murmured, his voice low, his gaze sweeping towards the manor’s main entrance. There was no urgency in his tone, just a calm statent of fact.
My mind scrambled. Soone coming. Now? After the chaos in the courtyard? It could only be one thing. The commotion from Herald’s brutal display, the utter devastation of the guards, the death of Lord Sapphire himself – it would have been impossible to contain. And who would be the first to rush out, driven by fear and concern? Lady Sapphire. And Luminous.
A cold dread gripped . I had just witnessed, the brutal execution of their husband and father. If they found here, unhard, standing amidst the carnage, they would undoubtedly suspect . This was how these fantasy novels always worked. The commoner, suddenly empowered, conveniently found at the scene of a noble’s demise. The accusations would be swift, brutal, and utterly damning. My carefully constructed identity as the adopted son would shatter. would be trialed by the entire Sapphire household, and likely the wider nobility.
My gaze darted wildly around the courtyard, searching for a solution, a plan, anything to save my skin. My eyes landed on the fallen guards, their bodies scattered like discarded dolls. Their weapons lay strewn across the ground. A dagger. A small sharp dagger, still clutched in the lifeless hand of one of the guards who had been crushed by Herald’s gravity ability.
I knew what I had to do. It was desperate. It was insane. But it was my only chance.
I took a shaky step forward and bent down to reach for the dagger, my movents stiff, and snatched the dagger from the dead guard’s hand. The cold steel felt strangely heavy, its hilt slick with the guard’s blood.
"What are you doing?" Herald’s voice was low, a hint of curiosity in his tone.
"Trying to save my skin," I replied, my voice a strained whisper, my eyes fixed on the dagger, then on my own arm. This is going to hurt. A lot, I thought.
I took a deep breath, trying to steel myself. I raised the dagger, my hand trembling, and without another mont of hesitation, plunged it deep into my left elbow.
A silent groan of severe pain tore through . My body convulsed, a wave of blinding agony washing over . I bit down hard on my tongue, drawing blood, desperate to suppress any sound, any scream that might alert the approaching family. The dagger grated against bone, tearing through flesh and muscle. It was a raw, searing pain that threatened to consu .
But I wasn’t done. I had to make it convincing. I had to look like a victim, not a perpetrator. With a desperate surge of adrenaline, I dragged the dagger across my body, from my shoulder, down across my chest, tearing through my tunic, creating a long, shallow, but visibly bleeding cut. It was a superficial wound compared to the elbow, but it would look devastating.
My vision quickly swam, the world began tilted as I felt dizzy and, my legs gave out, and I quickly collapsed to the ground, falling amongst the scattered bodies of the guards, trying to make my fall look natural, like a man succumbing to severe injury. I lay there, feigning unconsciousness, my breathing shallow, my body trembling with the aftermath of the self-inflicted pain. Blood, warm and sticky, welled up from my elbow and the long cut on my chest, soaking into my clothes, pooling on the cold stone.
Herald, standing over , watched the entire grueso display. "You’re a cunning man indeed," he murmured, his voice low, a hint of grudging respect in his tone. He then turned, and vanished into the shadows of the manor, leaving to my bloody charade.
Minutes stretched. I lay there, pretending to be lifeless, listening. The sounds of approaching footsteps grew louder, more frantic. Then, a gasp. A horrified cry.
"My God—no!"
Lady Sapphire’s voice rang out, broken and sharp. "What... what is this?!"
Her footsteps slamd against the stone floor, fast and stumbling. Then she stopped. Silence, for a beat—then ca the scream. A raw, guttural sound that didn’t sound like it ca from a person. Just pain. Pure, uncontrollable pain.
I heard her fall. Her sobs ca next, rough and gasping, like she couldn’t catch her breath.
"This isn’t real," she whispered. "This can’t be real... You were just—" Her voice cracked hard. "You were just alive..."
More sobs followed, violent and choking.
"My Lord... your eyes..." she whimpered. "You were just smiling this morning... you held my hand..."
There was the sound of her collapsing to her knees. A dull thud. She might have been clutching his severed head.
"No... this can’t be how it ends. No, no, no..."
Her voice changed, cracked with sothing darker. "Who did this?" she muttered. "Who tore him from ?"
Then she shrieked, guttural and furious, "WHO TOOK HIM FROM ?!"
Her cries turned into manic laughter—hollow, broken.
She clawed at her face, at the blood-soaked earth, at fate itself.
"I’ll give anything—anything—to bring him back! TAKE INSTEAD!"
She was unraveling.
Then, behind her sobs, ca a smaller, trembling voice.
"Father! No! Father!"
It was Luminous. His voice, still tender with youth, cracked under the weight of horror.
I heard the frantic patter of his feet, then the sound of him tripping and crawling, reaching out.
"Kai! No—no, not you too!"
He was beside now, sobbing, as if my silence was worse than death.
And in that mont surrounded by the grief I’d authored—the weight of what I’d done finally began to suffocate .
His small hands, trembling, reached out and began to shake my seemingly lifeless body. "Kai! Wake up! Please, Kai! Stand up! You have to! I need you! Father... Father..." His voice trailed off into incoherent sobs, his small body shaking with grief. He clung to , his tears soaking into my bloodied tunic, his small hands desperately trying to wake .
The raw, unfiltered grief of Luminous, his desperate pleas, tore at my heart. He was just a child. He had lost his father, and now, he thought he had lost his adopted brother too. A wave of profound remorse washed over . I wanted to open my eyes, to tell him I was alright, to comfort him, to tell him it wasn’t real.
But I couldn’t. I had to compose myself. I had to maintain the charade. Because I knew. I knew that if I hadn’t done this, if I hadn’t inflicted this harm upon myself, they would definitely suspect of killing Lord Sapphire. That’s how all these fantasy novels were scripted to be like. Nobles, with their inherent arrogance and suspicion, would always find a way to diss commoners, to bla the outsider, the one who didn’t fit. It was a cruel, necessary sacrifice. My survival depended on their belief in my victimhood. It was a bitter, agonizing truth.
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