The weekend came quickly as Edward lay on the steel bed in his cell. He had inscribed the ninety-fifth circle, leaving just five more mana circles before reaching the peak of the Adept stage. However, the more circles one inscribed into their core, the more difficult it became to form the next. His increased level of his cultivation technique made things easier, but he chose to rest. Unregulated, nonstop cultivation could lead to a messy magical foundation, something he wouldn’t like to deal with.
And this was the weekend. The entourage of the Fourth Royal Prince would be arriving at the manor that afternoon to formally set the engagement ceremony and carry out the exchange of gifts. Any moment now, a guard would come to open the cell and order Edward to leave.
The Marquis, of course, would want all his children present and properly groomed when the royal entourage arrived. He might not see Edward as a son worth his attention, but he still needed to maintain the façade of a loving and benevolent father.
Then, footsteps echoed down the stone corridor, slow and steady, until they stopped in front of Edward’s cell. Keys rattled, metal scraping against metal, and the lock clicked open with a dull sound. The iron door creaked as it swung wide, letting in a strip of light from the hallway. The guard stood there in full armor, expression flat, eyes already tired of the duty he had repeated countless times.
"Get up," the guard said, his voice rough but restrained. "You’re to leave the cell, as commanded by the Marquis. The royal entourage will arrive soon, and the Marquis wants no delays." He glanced briefly at the steel bed, then back at Edward. "Don’t make trouble. Just do as you’re told."
Edward said nothing. He rose from the bed without haste, his movements calm and unhurried. He stepped past the guard and into the corridor, chains softly clinking as he walked. The guard watched him for a moment, then turned and motioned forward.
"Move," the guard muttered, already walking ahead. The cell door closed behind them with a heavy thud.
Now inside the Vistro manor, Edward walked through its grand corridors, his presence a jarring contrast to the opulent gold-leafed walls and pristine marble floors. The dirt of the Abyssal Cells was caked onto his boots, and his clothes—once simple—were now stained with the grime of the pits and the dried, blackened residue of his own physical impurities. Every servant he passed pulled back in disgust or pity, but Edward ignored them all. To him, they were fleeting shadows; his eyes were fixed on road.
He eventually arrived at his section of the manor, the "Exile" annex. Pushing open the heavy doors of his personal chambers, he was met with a heavy, unfamiliar silence. He scanned the room, noticing the lack of a freshly brewed pot of tea or the meticulously organized stack of books he usually kept.
Henry was gone.
Edward’s expression didn’t change. Just like in every other regression, the Marquis had removed the only person who showed him genuine kindness. It was a tactical isolation, a way to ensure that when Edward emerged from the dark, he would have no anchor to the person he used to be.
’The new piece should be arriving any minute now,’ Edward thought, sitting by the window.
Right on cue, a soft, hesitant knock echoed against the wood.
"Come in," Edward replied, his voice devoid of emotion.
The door creaked open, and a young woman walked in. She wore the usual black and white Vistro maid uniform, but she had a presence about her. She was about average height with short, bright pink hair that made her face look stunning. Her blue eyes were big and watery, and even though her uniform wasn’t fancy, you couldn’t help but notice she was curvy.
She performed a shy, deep bow, her hands clutching her apron. "I-I am Fiona, Young Master. I have been assigned as your new personal maid by the Lord."
She approached him with trembling steps. Without further word, she reached for the buttons of his dirty tunic. Edward remained still, allowing her hands to work. He understood the Marquis’s intent perfectly. His father expected him to be a broken, babbling wreck after the Abyssal Cells—someone so traumatized by the silence that he would need to be handled, bathed, and dressed like a helpless infant. Fiona was meant to be the "nanny" for a shattered mind.
As the ruined clothes fell away, Edward stood completely naked in the center of the room.
Fiona gasped. She thought she would see a skinny, weak kid, all worn out from being locked up. But instead, she saw Edward, and he looked amazing. The goblin marrow had really done a number on him. His muscles were rock solid and sculpted, his skin had a healthy color, and he stood tall.
Fiona’s face turned red, and she quickly looked away, flustered. She’d seen plenty of nobles dressed in all sorts of ways, but Edward gave off this intense, almost hunting vibe that made her heart pound, and she didn’t know why.
"I... I will go to the washroom and prepare the water, Young Master!" she stammered, bowing so low she nearly lost her balance. She scrambled toward the adjacent room, the sound of splashing water following shortly after.
Edward stood in the silence, his eyes cold as he looked at his own reflection in the mirror. Everything was going as he wanted it to.
A few minutes later, Fiona emerged from the washroom, her face still flushed, steam clinging to her pink hair. She kept her gaze fixed firmly on the floor, not wanting to linger to much on Edward’s naked body.
"The... the washroom is ready, Young Master," she said.