Deklan stared at the handheld mirror in confusion.
He looked at Rock’s corpse and smirked.
"Considering how fierce you fought, I was expecting you to be a tough man through and through. Who would’ve expected you to swing that way?" Deklan cackled; he wouldn’t expect that from Rock had it not been for finding this.
For a man to bring around a handheld mirror like this, it could only an one of two things.
It’s either he’s a narcissistic douche, or swing to the other side—far away from Deklan.
"Rock, what’s the situation?"
Deklan’s body tensed imdiately when he heard a familiar voice.
It was a man’s voice.
He slowly looked at the mirror and gasped at the sight of another person.
A blonde-haired man with sharp eyes.
Instinctively, Deklan turned the mirror away—and cradled himself against the corner of the porch, not expecting the handheld mirror to actually be—so form of a communication device. "Fuck, fuck, fuck... Is that the person who hired these guys? Did he see ? Did he realize I killed them?"
"Rock? What are you doing? Tell how it went." The man asked again.
Deklan cleared his throat and answered, "It’s done."
He wasn’t using his normal voice, but his sexy late-night deep voice.
Inside, he was hoping fervently for the blonde-haired man to buy it.
"Good, that’s good. But why are you not in the fra? And why do you sound different?"
"Young Master Deklan beca an Exorcist. He survived because of that, but I managed to kill him."
"Hmm... As much as I don’t want to believe it, there’s no reason for you to lie. Did he hurt you? Is that why you’re acting like this? Must be embarrassing for you to get hurt by so trash."
Hearing this, Deklan clutched his chest, his face turned vacant.
I... I don’t know whether to be glad or cry.
On one side, he was glad—that the blonde-haired man was buying his bullshit, but on the other, he got away with his bullshit because the previous Deklan was that much of a trash. Relax... It’s the previous Deklan that’s trash, not you.
"Sothing like that," Deklan answered.
"Either way, good work. Bring his head and you can claim your rewards."
Not even waiting for Deklan to answer, the blonde-haired man cut the communication off one-sidedly.
Checking the mirror, Deklan could finally breathe easily.
"Oh, one more thing..."
Deklan imdiately tensed again and faced the mirror away as the blonde-haired man reappeared.
"Find a necklace for , he should be wearing it or keep it safe sowhere. It’s a necklace from his whore mother. It’s quite go—"
Krkk!
Just then, the communication was cut off again, cutting the blonde-haired man’s mid-sentence.
Deklan looked down at the shattered mirror that slipped from his hand.
He unconsciously crushed it the mont the blonde-haired man called his mother a whore.
And inside his chest, he felt hot rage rising.
"It’s not my mother, but why am I feeling like this?" Deklan leaned back on the wall, clutching his chest tightly as his breath grew shallow and hot. "Co on, man. You’re already dead. If you’re this angry, you should’ve done sothing when you were alive!"
For a good minute, Deklan closed his eyes and cald himself down.
Even though he was the one inhabiting this body, the previous Deklan’s instincts were still present.
Once he cald down a bit, he reopened the big grave in the front yard to add three more to it.
As he was digging, his mind was still fixed on what had happened earlier.
Deklan panicked earlier, but he recognized who that blonde-haired man, that doesn’t look that much older than him, was. It was his younger brother, Callen. He’s the first son of the Marquis’ first wife, and thus, hated Deklan to the core.
Being exiled to this isolated place was basically a death sentence.
But Callen didn’t feel like it was enough and sent people to kill him.
"Fortunately, I don’t have siblings, and I didn’t co from a wealthy family," Deklan shrugged.
Children from a wealthy family will always have drama like this.
He had seen it in shows he watched back in his world, so this doesn’t surprise him. But what surprised him was how persistent Callen was to kill him.
Just give it a couple of years, and Deklan would probably die on his own.
But no... Callen has to send people after him.
Deklan purchased a gasoline and a match from the Shop once he finished digging.
He poured the entire bottle of gasoline into the grave and lit it up with a match.
Fire flickered and then blazed under his watchful gaze.
"One way or another, I’d be eting with my supposed family. And when that happens, I’ll have to be more than ready," Deklan watched the fire grow, devouring the corpses greedily. "Yes, I’ll handle your affairs, but I also need resources to grow stronger, faster."
Deklan was talking to the previous Deklan.
Handling the previous Deklan’s matters is unavoidable, so he didn’t mind.
Especially when he was planning to go back to his family and hog all the resources for himself.
In order to do that, he needs to get stronger first.
"Let’s hope Callen really bought that," Deklan walked away, heading back into the hut.
...
Tiernan Estate.
Inside a spacious bedroom that was big enough to fit a king-size bed and a formation of sofas, a young man was sitting on the sofa, eyes fixed on the handheld mirror on the table. He traced a finger along his lower lip, then scoffed in disbelief.
"Who does he think he is, cutting the communication like that?" Callen talked to himself.
His face was slightly red from annoyance.
Despite his attempt to remain calm as he spread his arms along the sofa, the struggle was evident.
In a fit of anger, Callen stood up, grabbed the vase on the table, and threw it at the wall—shattering it.
Almost instantly, a servant in a maid’s attire stepped inside to check.
"Young master? Is there sothing wrong?"
Just as she asked that, her gaze landed on the broken pieces of the vase near the wall.
"Clean that up."
"Yes, young master."
Callen tidied his clothes and headed for the door, walking past the servant who kept her head down.
Then, he stopped to look at the servant, "Where’s mother?"
"She’s drinking tea on the balcony, young master."
Callen traced along the corridor of his lavish estate, passing multiple maids along the way who bowed in respect at the sight of him. Once he reached the balcony entrance, he stopped to tidy his clothes again and only then stepped inside.
A woman was sitting alone while soaking in the vast cityscape ahead.
She wore a backless midnight-blue gown that mirrored the color of her neatly bound hair. Her pale skin, flawless and soft as silk, glead under the sunlight—and down the elegant curve of her exposed back ran a slender, glowing silver line that traced her spine from nape to lower back like a mark of divinity.
Her posture is unnaturally perfect—too straight, too balanced, as though she couldn’t relax one bit.
Always perfect. Always presentable.
Innayah Vee Tiernan—Cellan’s mother, and also the wife of the Marquis.
At the sight of his mother, Cellan’s smugness dissolved like ink in water.
"Mother..." He called, his voice slightly trembling. "Do you have ti for ?"
"How did it go, Cellan?" Innayah asked without turning to look.
"It’s done, mother. Deklan is no more..."
"Did you see a head?"
"N-No... Not yet. But Rock will bring it so—"
"If you don’t see a head, then it’s not done. People die from making baseless assumptions, dear son."
Cellan wanted to refute, but his voice ca out weaker than he had intended.
In front of his mother’s presence, he couldn’t muster any strength like he normally would.
"But it’s only Deklan, a trash who can’t do anything but cry. Rock will win even with his eyes closed."
"Didn’t he say Deklan sohow beca an Exorcist?"
"H-How did you...?" Cellan was taken aback, not expecting Innayah to overhear his conversation with Rock a minute ago. But then again, nothing escaped his mother’s eyes. "Yes, but it was handled. Rock sounded sure, although he was a bit ashad."
Upon hearing this, Innayah slowly turned to face her son.
Her lips curled a little into a mild smile, and it made her look more beautiful than ever.
A beauty that could cause kingdoms to go to war.
But in front of Cellan, that smile was nothing more than a monster’s smile.
"Do I look like soone who is content with assumptions?"
"N-No, mother..."
"Of course not. How do you think I’m sitting here? But since you’re so confident in your friend, Rock, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Go make the arrangents. Go ahead and assu Deklan is dead."
Callen’s heart pounded inside his chest.
He wanted to take back what he said, but Innayah had already turned away.
All he could do was swallow his words back.
"Yes, mother. I’ll make the arrangents."
With his tail tucked, Callen turned around to leave, but stopped at the entrance.
"Rember, dear son... This is because I trust you."
Even though her voice was sweet like sugar, Callen could tell that this was a sweet threat.
Innayah was basically warning him—that if anything goes wrong, and sohow Deklan was still alive and creates problems in the future, it was because of his fault. Not because she made a blunder, but due to her dear son insisting that it’s fine with confidence.
Keeping his head down, Cellan left to make the arrangents.
...
Later that night.
Deklan was sitting on the bed in a ditative position.
He had already eaten the three Basic Mana Candies and digested them properly.
Surprisingly enough, absorbing the mana inside the candies took so ti—as he felt nauseated after eating two in a row and needed to rest for a mont. His body has now absorbed the mana properly, and his rank has reached two-star Iron.
Just like the first ti, reaching the next rank was a pleasurable sensation.
Like being massaged and then coming out stronger.
Now it was ti for him to move on to the next ones, the three Lv. 1 Mana Apples.
"Hmm... I was wondering, is it okay—for to absorb mana like this?" Deklan thought aloud, staring at the deep blue apple in his hand. "I have no idea how Exorcists grow stronger, but I do know that the ones who beca Exorcists have Mana Veins. But I don’t feel mine."
Deklan has tried to feel whether he has Mana Veins or not, but he couldn’t find them.
No matter how hard he tries, he can’t find them.
"But it doesn’t make sense since I reached two-star iron rank," Deklan folded his arms, contemplating hard. Then, his eyes widened as a thought ca to mind. "Wait, am I growing stronger through the path a Ghost takes...?"
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