Rain tapped softly against the windowpane, tracing thin silver lines down the glass. Noel leaned against the frame, one hand resting on the hilt of Revenant Fang, eyes fixed on the distant treeline where the Thorne barrier shimmered faintly. Night had fallen over the estate, quiet—too quiet.
He exhaled, a faint mist leaving his lips. "Seven days already," he muttered. "And still nothing."
Behind that calm tone, his mind replayed the week like a slow reel.
He'd spent it searching—walking every corridor of the mansion, stepping through the training fields, the underground storage halls, even the servant quarters. He'd checked for mana leaks, corrupted cores, and any sign of intrusion. Nothing. Not a trace.
'If the Thorne family really falls, it won't be from outside,' he thought, eyes narrowing. 'Whatever it is, it's already inside these walls.'
