Night draped itself over the city like a sheet of ink.
From Valentina Vostok's mansion came muffled sounds—high-pitched, rhythmic, and relentless—echoing through the walls and making sleep nearly impossible.
Valentina gripped the bedsheets tightly, her cheeks flushed crimson.
"So this is what you meant by making my night 'enjoyable'? What humiliation!" she muttered bitterly, staring ahead at the wall in front of her.
The noises weren't coming from her room.
Jack Kadere wasn't even there.
At first, she had assumed his earlier flirtations and the way he'd escorted her home carried certain… implications. Though she had no intention of giving in so easily before learning more about his true motives, the fact that he had immediately taken another woman into his own room instead of hers enraged her.
It wasn't just rejection—it was an insult to her pride, to her charm.
Meanwhile, Jack Kadere was more than occupied. His "companion" for the evening, Kate, had quickly proven herself the most adaptable partner so far. She could indulge him before bed, lull him into a deep sleep, and even wake him up in surprisingly… unconventional ways.
Groggy, half-entangled, and feeling as though he were still trapped under some unseen weight, Jack wrestled himself out of bed after nearly an hour of struggle. Finally freed, he dragged himself into the bathroom, showered, and then dressed casually before heading into the living room.
As he stepped in, he found Valentina waiting with a sour expression—and beside her sat a tall, broad man with a full beard, his presence radiating the aura of something ancient and dangerous.
Jack smirked faintly. "Vandal Savage."
He wasn't surprised. Instead, he shifted his gaze toward Valentina. "Be a dear and fetch me a glass of milk, would you? I think I need a pick-me-up."
Though she was visibly annoyed, Valentina reluctantly rose and left the room.
"You don't have anything to say to me?" Vandal Savage asked with a cold smile, his voice carrying the weight of centuries.
Jack sat down comfortably and shrugged. "No."
Mornings were always his best time of day, especially after his "warm-up exercises." Chit-chat with ancient immortals wasn't exactly at the top of his list.
Savage's smile faded, his tone dropping into a growl. "I think you should say something."
Jack looked at him for a long moment, as though considering it. Then, with deliberate hesitation, he replied: "Uh… good morning?"
The immortal narrowed his eyes.
"You must be a liar," Savage said darkly. "If you were truly a traveler between times, then you'd know exactly who I am—and the consequences of mocking me. I'll give you one more chance…"
With a theatrical flourish, he shrugged off his coat, producing a dagger as though from thin air. The blade gleamed under the dim light.
Jack tilted his head, amused. "Tell me something, Savage—how long does it take you to revive? Ten minutes, maybe?"
Savage stiffened.
"In ten minutes, I might be in the mood to chat," Jack continued with a smirk. "So why don't you go ahead and die for ten minutes first?"
"I don't think you have the ability to do that," Savage sneered, suddenly whipping the dagger at Jack's chest.
It flew faster than a bullet across the narrow distance between them. Savage was already grinning triumphantly—until his grin froze.
Jack had caught it.
With two fingers.
"See you in ten minutes," Jack said lazily, raising his hand and pointing at Savage.
A crackling flash of electricity arced through the room, striking Vandal Savage square in the chest. The current wasn't massive, but its sheer precision and force were devastating. Savage's heart was pierced clean through, and the blast burned a hole straight through the sofa, leaving the floor beneath scorched and smoking.
Crash!
The sharp sound of breaking glass echoed. Jack Kadere turned his head to find Valentina standing frozen nearby, her hand trembling. A shattered cup lay at her feet, milk spreading across the polished floor. Her face was pale, her body stiff with shock.alentina standing frozen in shock, a broken cup at her feet and milk spilling across the floor.
"Really?" Jack frowned at her. "Why panic? You know he'll revive. And that—" he pointed at the spilled mess—"was that milk meant for me?"
"Y-Yes…" Valentina stammered, her face pale.
Of course she knew Vandal Savage was immortal—his legend was infamous even in Soviet circles—but she had never seen his resurrection firsthand. The suddenness of it all rattled her. She had suspected their discussion might spiral into conflict, but witnessing Savage's heart fried and his body collapse lifeless was something else entirely. What unsettled her even more was the strange lightning. Was that Jack's ability?
Jack's eyes lingered on the spilled milk. He sighed. "What a shameful waste." His voice dropped, almost playful, though there was an edge to it. "That cup was meant for you. Don't waste it."
Valentina blinked. "For… for me? But it's spilled on the floor."
"Exactly." Jack's eyes gleamed, his smile sharp. "So don't waste it." He let the words hang, heavy with implication.
Valentina's expression soured instantly. Drink milk off the floor? The idea was humiliating. She wasn't some pet.
"I can pour you another cup," she said stiffly, trying to salvage her dignity.
"Are you sure you want to do that?" Jack asked softly.
Sparks danced across his fingertips, faint arcs of electricity building with each second. The message was clear: refuse him, and there would be consequences.
"You don't have to push this far!" Valentina's voice wavered as she tried to hold her ground.
"Waste is shameful," Jack replied simply, the lightning around his hand flaring brighter, crackling like a predator ready to pounce.
Valentina's breath caught as she saw him crouch slightly, watching her every move with unsettling patience.
"Master, what's she doing?"
The voice came from behind. Kate, freshly bathed and dressed, walked in and tilted her head curiously at the sight.
Jack glanced at her with amusement. "A small punishment. Something to keep me entertained while we wait." His eyes flicked back to Valentina. "Go to the kitchen and bring me another cup of milk."
"Understood." Kate nodded, her steps light as she headed off.
Valentina swallowed hard, her pride twisting into frustration. "Is this enough for you?!" she demanded bitterly, glaring at Jack.
Jack opened his mouth to answer, but a sudden roar cut him off. He turned his head sharply to see Vandal Savage already pushing himself up from the floor, the gaping wound in his chest sealed as if it had never been.
Jack's brow arched, impressed despite himself. "That fast? Not even ten minutes. I didn't even get to see how you pulled it off. That won't do." His lips curled into a smirk. "So… die a little longer."
He raised his hand, lightning exploding from his palm with lethal precision.
The bolt slammed into Savage, dropping him once more in a heap. Smoke rose from his body, the stench of scorched flesh filling the air.
But this time, Jack didn't look away. His eyes stayed locked on the fallen immortal. He wanted to understand the mechanics of the revival. When Savage had attacked earlier, Jack had copied the immortal's ability, but he was curious. If something ever went wrong for him—if his power failed—he needed to know exactly how Savage managed his resurrection.
Immortality. Revival.
For most people, it would be the ultimate prize. To never fear death, to come back endlessly—who wouldn't crave that power?
But Jack Kadere only tilted his head, unimpressed. To him, immortality was more nuisance than gift. Few in the universe could even dream of killing him as it was. Longevity, survival—such things didn't matter much.
For Jack, abilities weren't measured in value by how "powerful" they seemed. They fell into two categories:
Interesting. Or uninteresting.
And right now, Vandal Savage's endless cycle of revival?
Jack smirked faintly. "Uninteresting."