The mountain gave birth to a mouse. Daylan realized how easily everything had fallen into place and wished he had spent that ti worrying about their calamity instead.
Every word Daylan spoke to Zira seed to land gently. He had expected at least so kind of outburst from a twelve-year-old whose family was leaving her in the care of strangers—but no. In fact, she seed genuinely happy to beco part of the Bastian family.
Despite her composed deanor and surprisingly mature reaction for her age, Zira still asked to spend so ti with Daylan before her departure, insisting that he keep his promise.
Watching Zira made Daylan smile throughout their conversation. He felt honored to have a sibling like her. But sothing tugged at his thoughts—Zira hadn't ntioned their mother even once. No desire to see her before leaving, no concern about missing her.
It was clear that Zira knew sothing about Daylan's reasons for his actions. Even if she didn't understand everything, she had a general sense of what was going on—one way or another.
But Daylan felt he was in no position to ask. Still, he knew he wouldn't be able to handle it if Zira was doing everything with Giselle. Though he doubted it, the possibility was one he couldn't ignore.
The night passed quickly, and before they knew it, morning had arrived. By the ti they woke, Ael had already assigned a few guards to escort Zira. But Daylan wasn't going to let that happen—not yet. It took a toll on him, but he managed to convince the guards to wait a little longer.
''Two hours,'' they said, their tone heavy with duty.
Without a mont's hesitation, Zira and Daylan began marching through the northern district alone, leaving the guards and everyone else behind.
It was nothing short of a siblinghood adventure. They laughed, played, and simply enjoyed each other's company. What was ant to be a two-hour exploration turned into one of the best mories they had ever shared. Their bond deepened—far beyond any emotion Daylan had ever known, in this life and the one before it.
Unlike most children who often asked for more ti, fun, or tried to bend things to their will, Zira did none of that. To Daylan, she was a living miracle.
His eyes lingered on her, a soft smile playing on his lips throughout their ti together. And though the two hours felt like they could last forever, the end eventually ca.
Nothing was quite like Daylan had imagined. That short ti together was enough to make him miss her goofy smiles and jokes, the way she tugged on his shirt, and—most of all—her sarcastic, infuriating way of always getting what she wanted.
Daylan stood beside her carriage as they waved to each other while it rolled away. His heart pounded with every passing second, questioning whether he should've spent more ti with her. But Zira—she simply waved, eyes squinting in the sunlight, wearing a wide, cheerful smile.
This was a mont Daylan would have loved to have lasted forever, but no flower blooms forever, no matter how the sun loves it. He knew that much.
Soaking in the mont, he turned to Astara and dora standing at his right. After a stretch and a faint smile, he muttered, ''Can we get to business?''
With heavy hearts, they returned to the house and took their seats, while Daylan sank into the sofa, letting himself relax.
"How are you going to explain Zira's whereabouts to your mother if she visits and asks about her?" dora asked, her voice etched with concern.
Daylan didn't know exactly how to answer that, but he was certain his mother wouldn't ask about Zira if she ever visited. In his eyes, her primary goal was to have him killed—and sohow, Zira didn't factor into that plan. Judging by her previous reaction, she had been in a hurry and clearly uninterested in anything else.
"That wouldn't happen." He replied confidently.
"I'd suggest we find a different hideout—sowhere separate from this place. A location dedicated solely to our disguises and missions. If your mother were to co here, and we sohow led the Phantoms near this area, it might be enough for her to grow suspicious. Don't you think so?"
Astara's words filled the room with a piercing sense of realization. Yet Daylan and dora remained calm, silent. They knew Astara wouldn't bring sothing like this up unless she already had a plan in place.
"I spoke with Mr. Ael and asked him to find a suitable place for a hideout—and he didn't disappoint. The guards gave the key and a glimpse of the location. We should check it out soon."
Caught in the mont, Daylan found his thoughts drifting back to sothing that had been on his mind for a while—his parents, and more specifically, how he suspected his mother had managed to kill his father.
"I've been trying to piece things together—from what I heard from Ael and how my mother reacted during our last encounter. I think I've gotten a glimpse of what her ability might be."
Daylan began to give them a thorough explanation of what had been on his mind. He believed his mother's ability was tied to speech—or perhaps sothing even more manipulative.
He ca to this conclusion after what he believed was an attempt by his mother to deceive him. During their last visit—just before they left—sothing happened when she placed her hand on his cheek. Her nostalgic words struck deeper than they should have, and the more she spoke, the more he began to believe every word was true.
And Ael's words only reinforced his suspicions, turning them from re theory into sothing far more convincing. If his father was truly as strong as described—free-spirited and constantly moving from one woman to another—then manipulation seed like the only way his mother could have had him killed.
As the saying goes, 'Give the thirsty man water, not a lecture.' He believed that's exactly what his mother had done. She gave Gerald what he wanted—but at a cost he never saw coming.
"I can't say for certain that this is the truth, but if we go with this theory, I believe it'll give us the upper hand."
No words followed Daylan's for a while—only a thin silence and the soft drifting of their gazes around the room, as if quietly absorbing what he had said.
"Your mother never struck as the manipulative type, but considering she killed you and lied to all of us, saying you committed suicide—there's not much I wouldn't believe about her now."
dora's words cut through the silence, drawing their attention to her. "We can all agree she's planning sothing. Whether she wants Daylan dead again or there's sothing else—so obstacle she needs to eliminate—it falls on us either way. And one thing's certain: she's prepared for whatever move she's about to make. Which ans we need to be prepared too."
dora's words couldn't have been more accurate. Knowing that each of the Rhys left a piece of themselves within the organization ant they were up against sothing far greater than anything they'd faced before.
They didn't know much, but it was safe to assu that the marks left by each forr leader were on par with those of Daylan's grandfather, Albert. And if that was true, then their training alone wouldn't be enough—because they weren't just facing beasts. They were walking into a battle against living monsters.
"What do you think about us fighting off so demonic monsters before facing them directly? I doubt they follow the usual rank system, not with all the strength-enhancing potions they've got. Plus, Ael ntioned sothing similar—either we get stronger before making a move, or we walk away completely. Which ans even he doesn't take them lightly."
As soon as the words left his mouth, Astara rose to her feet. "This isn't even a question you need to ask," she said, already heading toward the kitchen. "We start tomorrow. I know just the place for B-rank demonic monsters."
The idea that a royal—the princess, no less—who had spent most of her life in the royal capital could know so much about Honor City after just a few years there fascinated Daylan.
Daylan stood, stretching his body and rubbing his tired eyes. In that instant, the system's voice echoed in his head.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
New Task Available
Objective: [700 push-ups. 700 sit-ups. 1 hour footwork drills].
Ti Limit: 2 hours 30 minutes
Penalty: [?]
Reward: [?]
Daylan's expression suddenly darkened.
I think I'm starting to see a pattern. You only give tasks when they're absolutely necessary, don't you?
Looking back on when the system assigned him tasks, it was clear—it wanted him stronger before any real threat arose. It was as if the system could sense danger ahead.
Even so, the thought irritated him. But he had no choice; in the end, what the system demanded always seed to benefit him.
Without wasting a mont, he threw himself into training.
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