Lucian watched the entire scene unfold before him, his mouth slightly agape as he struggled to contain his grin.
He squinted, his ember eyes scanning every detail with unnerving precision. Then, with a mixture of disbelief and amusement, he said, "You are a sick brat."
But his smirk betrayed the reprimand. It widened into something more twisted, more satisfied. He clapped me on the back with enough force to knock the air out of my lungs. "Great job, son."
I wasn't sure if I should be flattered or horrified. One thing was certain: this man was deranged.
A weak, trembling voice interrupted the moment. "Why did you do it?"
I turned. Brent's mother stood there, blood splattered across her once-pristine robe, her eyes hollow. The sobs had died in her throat the moment she saw her son's skull split like a ripe fruit. Her voice now carried the weight of unbearable grief.
Brent's father stared blankly at the body, as if he still hadn't registered what had happened.
"You knew this was a possibility, didn't you?" I asked flatly, eyes flicking between them. "That's why neither of you cried when he was on the brink of death. You'd already accepted the outcome."
The man clenched his jaw, teeth grinding in helpless rage. "But you left him alive. Why did you change your mind after the duel was over?"
I rubbed my chin, pretending to ponder deeply. "Hmm. I guess... because I wanted to see the despair in your eyes."
The truth slammed into them like a dagger. Their faces contorted in horror, betrayal, and something else—something that looked uncomfortably close to shame.
The mother's voice cracked as she sputtered, "Just for... t-that?"
I shrugged casually. "Now, maybe you'll think twice before acting like cold, heartless statues. Show your affection when you can. The child would've appreciated that."
My voice dropped, low and cutting. "Don't wait until they're dead."
I clicked my tongue in irritation and turned away. Lucian stood a few paces ahead, arms crossed, watching everything unfold.
"Father," I said, brushing past the couple, "what was that work we had?"
Lucian blinked, clearly caught off guard. "You forgot about the banquet?"
My eyes widened, and I scratched the back of my head sheepishly. "Oh right... I guess I did."
I flashed a silly grin and winked, which earned me a bonk on the head. It wasn't hard, but it was definitely a bonk.
He raised his fist again but stopped himself midway. Instead, he sighed. "Just go get ready. The celebration banquet for the upcoming entrance exam at Rose Academy starts in an hour."
So, it hadn't begun yet. The story—the game—was only now preparing to launch into full swing.
The entrance exam was where our so-called protagonist would make his debut.
Not from a particularly prestigious family—just an earl household. A nobody compared to dukes and marquises. But he was destined to be more. Above average looks, above average skills... and devastating potential.
Powerful. Attractive. Morally gray. The archetypal hero.
The type who, of course, always ends up stealing the heroines.
'A morally grey hero stole other people's fiancee. What a surprise...'
The banquet wasn't just to honor the academy—it was a gathering of powerful houses, each preparing to send their heirs to the Academy.
Most importantly, the heroines would all be there.
Another blow to the head dragged me back to reality. Lucian's glare was inches from my face.
He grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me hard. "Focus, brat."
Then, with a flick of his wrist, he summoned two vials out of thin air—a red one and a blue one. He popped open the corks, pinched my cheeks, and poured both into my mouth.
But within moments, warmth rushed through my body. My fatigue vanished, the dull ache in my muscles disappeared, and my mind snapped into clarity.
Even the headaches and nausea was gone.
'Damn. I need to start hoarding these.'
Lucian gave me another once-over. "You look fine now. Go change. You reek of blood and sweat."
I nodded and made my way toward my chambers. The palace was a damn maze. I'd already forgotten the way.
"Hey! You!" I called to the nearest maid, probably louder than necessary.
The girl jumped, spinning around with wide eyes. She bowed quickly. "Yes, young master?"
I cleared my throat and softened my tone. "I'm feeling dizzy. Can you guide me to my chambers?"
She gave another awkward bow, then gestured with her arm for me to follow.
I trailed behind her through the twisting hallways, silently praying not to run into Mia.
If she saw me ? She'd murder me.
'Not everyone shares my hobby,' I mused. 'Apparently, tormenting people doesn't count as socially acceptable unless it's verbal.'
Eventually, the maid stopped before a door.
To me, it looked just like every other damn door. But she bowed again and vanished around a corner.
I entered the room. My chamber.
Gold and white walls, embedded with gems. Ornate furniture. Chandeliers with magic-lit crystals.
I made a beeline to the wardrobe and pulled out a black suit, tossing it onto the bed.
There was another door to the side. I opened it and sighed in relief.
Modern, sleek, marble tiles and enchanted fixtures. The perks of a semi-urban fantasy world.
I stripped off my blood-drenched clothes and dumped them in the laundry basket. Then I stepped into the shower and pressed the magic crystal.
Water—warm, cleansing—poured down.
I stood there for a moment, letting the grime and blood wash away.
Tonight, the real game would begin.