The boots echoed against the polished floor, each step heavier than it should be. The new clothes still felt strange on my body... but the discomfort didn't come from that.
It came... from that presence.
Even before stepping into the hall, something squeezed my chest. A cold shiver crawled down my spine. The air... heavy. Suffocating. As if the world itself whispered:
"Don't go in."
But retreat... was never an option.
I took a deep breath and crossed the doorway.
The Duke sat at the head of the table, as serious as always. But... the other man...
He didn't need to move. Or even look at me. His mere existence crushed the space around him.
The wood beneath his feet seemed to groan, the glass windows trembled slightly. It was as if reality itself recoiled from him.
His golden eyes were half-lidded, focused on the swirl of crimson wine in his glass.
When those eyes shifted — just a slight lift of his eyelids — it felt like a blade was pressed against my throat.
My entire body trembled. Instinct screamed — loud, desperate.
Run. Escape. Now.
But... no.
I can't. I won't.
His gaze locked onto me. Silence.
For a moment, there was no sound. Not even the beat of my own heart.
Then...
VUUUUUUM.
An invisible pressure swept through the hall like a wave. The air grew heavier. The walls seemed to tremble. My knees nearly buckled... nearly.
My fists clenched. My jaw tightened. Every muscle trembled — not from fear, but from pure resistance against something far beyond natural.
His golden eyes gleamed. Slowly, he formed a smile. Small. Dangerous. Predatory.
— ...Where did you find... this? — His voice wasn't loud, but it thundered inside my skull.
He didn't see me as a boy. Not even as a person.
He looked at me like a predator recognizing another predator.
The Duke remained impassive, arms crossed. — He's mine now.
The man's eyes narrowed slightly, almost amused... almost. — Hmph... so it wasn't a mistake. — His gaze returned to me. — This... this isn't just some street rat.
He extended his hand slightly, and at that exact moment... the air around him distorted. Like heat waves in the desert — but it wasn't heat. It was... something primal. Something that crushed the soul.
— ...I haven't seen anything like this in a long... long time. — His voice came out hoarse, like he was restraining himself.
His eyes turned back to the Duke. — What you've dragged into your house... — His tone dropped lower, sharper. — ...is no child. It's a blade, freshly forged, unpolished... but the scent... — He inhaled deeply. — The scent of blood... survival... and something more.
He leaned back, arms crossed. His smile was thin. Razor-sharp.
— So... — His eyes pierced into me. — Do you even realize what you've gotten yourself into?
I gritted my teeth. My body screamed to lower my head. To look away. But...
I'm not a street rat anymore.
— ...No. — My voice came out hoarse. — And I don't care.
For a second, his eyes widened. Then... he laughed.
Deep. Heavy. The kind of laugh that made the windows rattle.
— HAH! — He pointed at me, struggling to hold back. — Look at this... look at this! — He slapped the table, almost breaking it. — A little monster... that doesn't even know it's a monster yet.
The Duke stood, folding his hands behind his back. — Enough. Tomorrow, Clint begins his real training.
His icy gaze cut through the air. — And if... he fails... I won't need to dirty my hands. The world will kill him.
Darius stood, rolling his shoulders, still smiling that spine-chilling grin.
— Kid... — He locked eyes with me once more. — Welcome. Hell just opened a spot for you.