(Evelina’s POV—Hartgrave Mansion—The Night After the Chaos)
Father was carried away like a tragic Victorian heroine.
Arden shouted for the doctor. Lucein panicked. Sera looked like she was watching live theater.
And ?
I stood there with my arms crossed, gown torn, and makeup smudged, demanding 100,000 gold coins like a mafia loan shark.
Truly—a perfect ending to today’s chaos.
Then—a soft voice slipped into the mont like silk over glass. "You should’ve shown a little rcy on your father... at least."
I didn’t want to look.
But I turned.
Mother stood there—elegant, composed, with a cold expression... But her eyes?
Warm. Too warm.
I stared back at her without blinking.
"Well," I said, voice icy enough to freeze the chandeliers, "he was the one who said I could ask for anything, wasn’t he?"
A dead silence fell. Thick enough to suffocate.
Mother stepped closer, slowly, almost hesitantly.
"Eve..." she murmured. "Can I ask you sothing?"
"NO," I replied instantly.
Another deadly silence. When I glanced at her, she was making that sad expression through her eyes.
I sighed, "Alright...speak."
"Then..." she murmured. "Are you... still angry with ?"
...Angry?
?
My lips twitched in a humorless, bitter smile, because I know what she is asking about.
Angry? At her? Do I even have the right to be angry? The real Evelina—the girl who lived through every humiliation, every betrayal, every wound—she was the one who should’ve been asked this.
Not .
But still, I knew what she would’ve said.
I looked her dead in the eyes.
"I was never angry," I said quietly. Her shoulders softened—she almost smiled—a small, hopeful twitch of her lips.
But then—
"You," I continued, my voice slicing through the air like a blade, "...don’t even deserve my anger, Mother."
Her breath stilled.
Her smile shattered.
Her eyes widened—hurt exploding across her face in silent, broken pieces. But I didn’t waver. Not an inch. Not a heartbeat.
She swallowed, emotions trembling in her throat.
"...I should have believed you." Her voice cracked—just slightly. "After I discovered you weren’t the one who sent goons to bully sera... that it was our rivals... I—I wanted to apologize—"
I cut her off.
Cold. Sharp. Unforgiving.
"But I never heard any apology. Not Even Once."
Her lips parted—silent, empty. I stepped closer, lowering my voice into sothing quiet and lethal.
"If you had apologized that day... if you had hugged ... If you had just once taken my side—maybe..."
I let the word drag, slow and cruel.
"...maybe we could have had a mother–daughter relationship."
A pause.
A breath.
Then the kill shot—
"But, Mother... like everyone else in this house..." I tilted my head, eyes dead calm. "You’re late. Too late."
She flinched like I stabbed her.
But I didn’t stay to watch her break; I have no interest in watching her break. Because as Reina Tanaka... I never had a mother, I never had a family, and this fake family...who doesn’t even exist in my real world...will never get the real .
I turned and walked past her as if she were nothing more than a shadow in my way. Rowan followed silently behind , his footsteps a steady echo beneath my fury.
I reached the staircase—just about to take the first step—
"10,000 gold."
I froze.
Her voice trembled behind .
"I... I will gather 10,000 gold for you," she whispered, breath unsteady. "Just... give so ti."
My fingers curled against the railing.
But I didn’t turn.
I didn’t soften.
"Suit yourself," I said, voice cold and bored. "Do whatever you want."
A quiet gasp escaped her.
I continued:
"But don’t misunderstand..." I stepped upward, slow, deliberate, and rciless. "...this won’t lt . No matter what you do."
Rowan followed, silent as a shadow, while behind us... Mother stood alone. Her hands were trembling. Her expression shattered.
And her daughter walking away.
***
(Continuation—Hallway Outside Her Chamber)
I pushed my bedroom door open—the warm glow spilling across the polished floor—when I stopped. Just before stepping inside, I turned slightly, voice clipped.
"Rowan. Your duty is over. You can leave."
He didn’t move from his position behind .
"There is no one assigned to guard you tonight," he replied. His tone was as flat as steel, but underneath... there was resistance.
"I don’t need a guard," I said sharply, leaning my shoulder against the doorway. "No one is going to assassinate tonight in my own room, Rowan."
His jaw tightened. Just a fraction. "That is not a guarantee, Miss."
I exhaled through my nose, tired and annoyed and dangerously close to collapsing.
"Rowan," I said, softer but colder, "go. Rest. Sleep. I don’t need you dangling half-dead around like a zombie tomorrow. We have to et Theo Vinter again tomorrow."
Finally, he bowed—sharp, formal, and obedient.
"As you say, Miss."
He turned and walked down the corridor toward the room Margaret assigned him—his footsteps precise, silent, and almost apologetic.
For a mont, as he disappeared around the corner... I wondered if he wanted to argue. If he wanted to stay.
But he didn’t.
I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Too much happened today..."
I stepped into my room and shut the door with a soft thud.
Then—
FLOP!!
I collapsed face-first onto the mattress like a corpse reincarnating into a pancake. My dress tightened painfully, my ribs protested, and my hair stabbed my face, but I did. Not. Care.
"Ughhhhh—"
With a groan worthy of a dying heroine, I kicked off the damn heels across the room—one hitting the wardrobe, the other violently attacking a pillow.
"My legs..." I hissed. "I swear these heels were invented by a sadistic demon."
I grabbed the blanket, dragged it over myself like I was hiding from the entire storyline, and exhaled into the darkness.
"I need rest... desperately."
My eyes fluttered.
Because tomorrow—I would have to deal with Theo Vinter again.
The mafia king with a fascination for witches. The man whose affection jumped to 48% in one bloody night.
"Just great..." I muttered.
I pulled the blanket tighter, letting exhaustion swallow whole.
"Tomorrow... I deal with Theo." My voice drifted, soft, resigned, and cold—"And find a way to get 10,000 gold to unlock that damn hidden route."
And just like that—I closed my eyes.
And the system—rcifully—stayed quiet.
For now.
"I hope...tomorrow, I et him without any trouble...." I mumbled in my sleep.
That’s what I should have never wished...
***
(The Next Day—Vinter Corporation Port, Afternoon)
I should’ve known the mont I mumbled, "I hope I et him without trouble tomorrow..."
NEVER tempt fate. Especially not in this cursed ga.
Because eting Theo Vinter peacefully?
That’s like a student praying for:
— a teor to hit the school, World War 3 to start, the exam building to mysteriously explode
...just to avoid a math test.
Utterly hopeless. Utterly idiotic. Utterly .
And here I was.
Standing in the middle of Vinter Corporation’s private port—Rowan guarding like a very stern mother kangaroo—and watching...
n. Flying. In. The. Air.
Not rose petals.
Not confetti.
n.
Launching like ragdolls shot out of a malfunctioning circus cannon.
"..."
I blinked. Twice.
Rowan tightened his stance beside . One vein popped on his forehead.
No rain.No weather.
Just bodies.
THUD!!!!SMACK!!!R O L L R O L L R O L L—!!!
Another guy flew overhead like soone pressed the eject player button on him.
I didn’t even flinch. This was Theo Vinter. The Mafia King. The walking disaster.
The man whose introduction yesterday included— ten rifles— a smirk— murderous aura— and now... apparently an early-afternoon massacre session.
Theo turned at the sound of the last man crashing.
He blinked.He saw .
His eyes lit up like a lovestruck psychopath’s on Christmas morning.
"Oh—Miss Hartgrave!"
He practically sparkled. In blood. With two dead n near his shoes.
He strode toward with dangerous excitent, suit drenched in red, hair ssy like he’d been fighting a war, a literal gun in one hand and smoke swirling from the other.
Rowan stepped half a step in front of . Theo ignored Rowan completely.
"I’ve been waiting for you," he said brightly, like a man greeting a date at brunch. "For nearly two hours."
Two. Hours.
He said it like I kept him waiting for a romantic picnic and not... whatever this was.
Behind him, another body FLEW.
WHOOSH—!!!CRASH.
I turned slowly to Rowan.
"You see that?" I whispered.
"...Yes, Miss."
"You’re seeing n flying too, right?"
"...Yes, Miss."
"Just checking."
Then—I turned back to Theo.
My smile was so dead inside it could qualify for a funeral.
"I..." I cleared my throat with all the dignity of soone watching live-action Mortal Kombat. "...am so sorry... for arriving very much late... Mr. Vinter."
Theo bead.
Like I just handed him a bouquet.
Of guns.
"Well," he said delightedly, still holding a smoking weapon, "you’re here now."
Another man flew behind him like comic relief. Rowan inhaled through his teeth. I simply stared, deadpan, soul gone, will to live temporarily under construction.
Perfect.
Absolutely perfect.
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