Around 5:30 a.m., Dante's alarm clock rang. The shrill sound tore him from an already light sleep. In the end, he had barely gotten more than two hours of rest because Helios had spent a full six hours in the laboratory instead of the announced two. It had already been shortly after three in the morning when they finally arrived at the Vale family estate. Davis had shown Dante to his bedroom, and it was only around 3:30 a.m. when he had finally fallen asleep.
Falling asleep itself had not been a problem – a skill he had to acquire as a soldier. Being able to rest when the opportunity presented itself had been essential. Little sleep was nothing unusual, and even now, the brief rest was enough to make him operational again.
Dante pushed the blanket aside and sat up. He yawned, stretched extensively, and felt the familiar tension in his muscles. Discipline was second nature to him, so he neatly made his bed before starting his warm-up routine. First, he stretched thoroughly to drive the fatigue from his limbs. This was followed by push-ups, squats, and boxing exercises – a ritual that activated his body and cleared his mind.
As he moved, he reflected on the previous evening. Davis had shown him the most important areas of the company and given him an overview of both the official – and the less obvious – work of Aeternum Pharmaceuticals. The corporation had ties to some of the most powerful companies in the world, and a few names Davis mentioned were indeed familiar to Dante.
Dante didn't feel like he had received any truly important information yet. After just one day he shouldn't expect them to trust him, but it bothered him not get the full load of information even if he knew it was smart oft hem not to immediately give a newcomer any critical security details.
Especially given the alarming frequency of assassination attempts.
It was strange, after all: two attacks on the same person within two days – and without any apparent ransom motive. Helios, the son of a multimillionaire and heir to a pharmaceutical empire, was an obvious target. But why would someone want to kill him rather than extort a fortune from his father? Vale seemed to adore his only child. Dante was convinced that he would pay any sum without hesitation to protect Helios – and perhaps even throw in half the company.
Yet, it seemed Helios had never been kidnapped before. Maybe the assassins would attempt it if all the guards were eliminated?
Dante shook his head slightly. He needed to stop thinking about it. It was not his job to ask questions or analyze connections. His duty was to follow orders – nothing more, nothing less. Overthinking only led to hesitation in critical moments, and hesitation could be fatal.
A glance at the clock told him it was already 6 a.m. He had warmed up enough. With practiced movements, he finished his workout and headed to the bathroom. The hot shower helped dispel the last remnants of fatigue. Once he was done, he put on his new uniform – plain but functional – and checked in the mirror to ensure everything was in place.
Finally, he left the room and made his way to the designated meeting point. Davis was supposed to show him the entire estate today – and Dante was ready to fulfill his new post with the same precision and vigilance that had already distinguished him as a soldier.
They met in the foyer of the estate. There had been no time during the night to explain exactly where he needed to go, and the estate was so expansive that he would not have wanted to wander around alone anyway.
"Good morning, Dante," Davis greeted him from where he was talking with the butler Thomas.
"Good morning, Davis. Thomas," Dante replied politely.
Davis looked a little tired. He was slightly older than Dante and seemed to have handled the short night less well. Thomas, on the other hand, appeared more than well-rested. Apparently, he had returned to the estate earlier the previous evening with Vale.
Davis raised an eyebrow. "You didn't have to shower. Or do you think I'll go easy on you just because you just started?" he asked, amused.
Dante grinned. "Of course not. It's just part of my morning routine – unless I had to sleep outside."
"Routines are important, that's true," Davis replied with a hint of a smile. "Let's not waste any more time. At 9 o'clock, we'll accompany Helios back to the lab."
"If he's awake by then, that is," Thomas said with a slight sigh. Then he turned to Dante with an apologetic look. "I already heard you got back late."
"Yes, apparently, he finished his project," Dante replied.
Davis snorted. "He's always on the verge of some breakthrough. That guy has developed amazing things in just the year I've been by his side. I have no idea what he's doing, but whatever he mixes up in his lab seems to be incredibly effective."
"It sounds like the company's success is built on the fruits of his work," Dante remarked thoughtfully.
"You could say that," Thomas answered with a smile. "He may be young, but he's already saved many lives."
A genius, huh? Considering how young Helios was, it was surprising to hear that his work had already helped so many people. At least during their first meeting, he hadn't seemed to be someone who bragged about his achievements.
Dante recalled the previous evening. Helios had demonstrated a sharp mind and a quick tongue, but he wasn't the arrogant scientist one might expect from someone with his talent. He was hard to read – a puzzle that involuntarily occupied Dante's thoughts.
"I'll see you later, Thomas. Dante, let's go – we've wasted enough time. The others have probably already started."
With these words, Davis turned and walked off briskly.
Dante nodded to Thomas and followed Davis, who was striding ahead. As they walked through the endless corridors of the estate, Dante noticed how meticulously everything was secured – surveillance cameras on the ceilings, reinforced doors, and guard posts at strategic points. There was no doubt that the threat of further attacks was being taken very seriously here.
"I'll show you where we conduct our training first," Davis said as he led the way confidently.
Dante memorized the path from the foyer to the training area so he could find it again the next day. The estate was as elegantly furnished as the company, though in a more understated luxury. Dark wood, expensive paintings, and intricately designed furniture created an atmosphere of discreet wealth and power.
As far as Dante knew, only Vale and his son lived in this estate. Considering its size, that was remarkable – especially when one thought about how many staff members were needed to keep everything in order. The guard quarters also seemed to be quite spacious. He wondered how many guards were actually responsible for protecting this small family. The previous day's attack suggested there could not be just a few.
They exited through a small side door, guarded by two sentinels. Davis and the two exchanged brief nods – a silent sign of mutual recognition – before Davis opened the door. Dante returned the gesture politely as he followed Davis outside.
They walked along a narrow side path that led through the large, well-maintained garden. Morning dew glistened on the fresh grass while the distant chirping of birds filled the air. Despite the idyllic setting, there was a constant tension – as if another attack could happen at any moment. Eventually, they reached the training ground, which was surprisingly large.
The smell of sweat, leather, and focused exertion hung heavily in the air. If Dante counted correctly, about thirty guards were busy sharpening their skills.
An older man with close-cropped white hair barked orders and supervised the training sessions. Some guards sparred in pairs – their movements were precise, disciplined, and full of seriousness. No one seemed to slack off or complain that it was too early. Everyone clearly understood how serious their job was.
"The guy barking orders is Maxwell. Chief guard and the most senior among us," Davis explained with a hint of respect in his voice. Then he gave Dante an appraising look. "You told me a lot about yourself last night. Now show me what you've got. After all, I need to know I can trust you in an emergency."
Dante cracked his knuckles. Luckily, he was already warmed up. A challenging grin played on his lips. "Alright, let's do this."
They moved slowly in a circle, testing the distance. Their eyes were focused, registering even the smallest movement. Davis opened the fight with a quick jab – more of a test than a serious attack. Dante dodged, letting the fist glide just past his cheek as he studied Davis's stance.
A hard punch from Davis aimed at Dante's ribs, but he skillfully stepped back. Immediately, a straight punch followed with much more force. Dante raised his arms and blocked the blow – the dull thud of fist against forearm echoed across the training ground. Davis was stronger than he had expected.
The intensity increased, and a familiar thrill coursed through Dante's body. He enjoyed the fight. Davis was no amateur – his movements were fluid, precise, and always controlled. This wasn't a wild brawl but a tactical game. Every mistake could be exploited, and Dante missed no opportunity to analyze Davis's style.
Davis used a quick combination of hooks and a kick to Dante's thigh, but Dante parried skillfully. With a lightning-fast counter, he snapped his fist forward, only to pull back at the last moment. A test – he wanted to see how Davis reacted under pressure.
"Not bad," Davis remarked with a thin smile. "But I hope that's not all."
Dante returned the smile, his pulse quickening. "I'm just warming up."
The fight grew faster, their movements almost blurring together. Around them, some of the training guards had stopped and were watching the exchange curiously. No one said anything – but the tension in the air was palpable.
Dante felt his adrenaline surge. He knew this fight wasn't just a test – it was also a message. If he proved himself here, he would earn respect. And in an environment like this, respect could mean the difference between life and death.
Then came the moment Dante had been waiting for. A feint – a mock jab – and as his opponent's guard dipped just slightly, the real attack followed. A lightning-fast uppercut crashed against Davis' chin, making him stagger. But after a brief blink, he regained his footing.
Instead of retreating, Davis attacked him in turn. There was a hint of an approving grin on his face as he increased the intensity of his blow. The blows became harder, their breathing heavier. Every muscle in their bodies burned, but neither thought about giving up.
For a moment, Dante thought of the shower he'd taken earlier – now completely pointless. Sweat rolled down his back in thick drops, and he knew a second shower would be inevitable once they were done.
Davis mercilessly exploited that tiny moment of distraction. With a quick step forward, he struck Dante hard on the shoulder. A sharp pain shot through him, but he gritted his teeth, sidestepped, and countered with a brutal straight punch to Davis' chest. A dull sound escaped his opponent's lips.
Dante knew this sparring match wasn't about winning. It was about precision, endurance, and above all, the trust they needed to have in each other during a real combat situation.
And the way Davis fought, Dante felt he could trust him blindly.
Suddenly, a loud whistle cut through the tense atmosphere, and both fighters immediately froze. Panting and covered in sweat, they faced each other, but there was no hostility or exhaustion in their eyes – only mutual respect.
Breathing heavily, they grinned at each other.
"Your technique is really good – not that I expected anything less," Davis said approvingly, rubbing the spot on his chest where Dante's punch had landed.
"And I rarely see anyone strike as precisely as you do," Dante replied with a satisfied smile.
"That was a damn good training match!" A rough but firm voice made both of them turn. Dante found himself looking directly at Maxwell, who regarded them both with a mixture of respect and sternness. "I hope some of the others were watching your fight. Your reactions were quick, and your execution precise. That's exactly how a fistfight should be."
"Thanks for the compliment," Davis replied with a grin, nodding toward Dante. "By the way, this is Dante. He's the young master's new bodyguard as of today."
"My name is Maxwell," the older man introduced himself, giving Dante a sharp, appraising look. "With skills like yours, you might actually survive," he murmured, almost more to himself than to the two men.
Dante furrowed his brow and asked, slightly confused, "What do you mean by that?"
Maxwell's expression turned abruptly harder, and Dante thought he caught a glimpse of bitterness in his eyes.
"Too many good men have already died protecting the young master," Maxwell said quietly, his voice heavy with unspoken memories. Then, a faint, almost paternal smile crossed his lips. "I sincerely hope you won't be one of them."
For a moment, silence fell, broken only by the muffled sounds of the training guards in the background.
However, Maxwell didn't seem inclined to say more. He glanced briefly at his watch, then straightened up again. "I have duties to attend to. I'm sure we'll see each other later."
With those words, Maxwell left, leaving Dante and Davis behind.
"Have that many really died?" Dante asked after a brief pause, his voice serious.
"Vale probably told you about it. He doesn't really keep it a secret. The job is damn dangerous," Davis sighed, running a hand through his sweaty hair. "Some of those guys were truly great men. Sometimes I wonder why I've survived this long while others had to lose their lives."
No, Vale had definitely not hidden that fact.
"I'd like to hear some stories when you have the time – even if they end sadly," Dante said as they began walking back.
Davis sighed again and shook his head slightly. "No problem, but I'm going to need booze for that. A lot of booze."
"Well, that shouldn't be too hard to manage," Dante replied, satisfied – even though he wouldn't touch a drop himself.
"In return, I want to hear some stories about your missions," Davis demanded, pointing a finger at Dante, a mischievous grin on his face.
"Whatever you want," Dante laughed, rolling his shoulders.
Davis' smile lingered for a moment longer before he glanced at his watch and cursed quietly. "You'd better hurry. We're displacing our colleagues in about an hour, and I still need to show you a few important places."
"I'll hurry. Should we meet back here?" Dante asked as they reached the foyer.
"Exactly sixty minutes from now," Davis confirmed before turning toward his room, which was apparently in a different location from Dante's quarters.
Dante watched him for a moment before heading off to take yet another shower.
___
At around 8:30 a.m., they took their positions outside Helios' bedroom. The night had remained quiet—at least, their relieved colleagues had reported nothing unusual. After a brief handover, the two exhausted guards disappeared, eager to finally get some sleep.
Dante and Davis positioned themselves on either side of the door. Their gazes occasionally swept down the hallway, but nothing suggested any danger. Not yet.
"Does he always get up this late?" Dante eventually asked, breaking the silence.
"We're lucky if he manages to be up within the next half hour," Davis replied, glancing briefly at his watch.
Dante frowned. From what he had gathered about Helios the night before, the man seemed driven—someone who preferred spending his time in the lab. That was exactly where they were supposed to accompany him later.
"That surprises me," Dante murmured thoughtfully. "I figured he'd be the type to be up early."
Davis snorted in amusement. "He's driven, sure, but he's also a night owl. If it were up to him, he'd probably spend every hour in the lab and cut sleep out of his schedule entirely. Unfortunately, his body doesn't quite agree."
Dante nodded slowly. That at least explained why Helios had stayed in the lab so late the night before.
For someone like Dante, who followed a strict daily routine, it was hard to understand how anyone could stay in bed that long. His day had started three hours ago, and the thought of letting so much time go to waste was beyond him.
It took forty minutes before the bedroom door finally opened, and Thomas stepped into the hallway. His posture, as always, was impeccably upright, but there was a faint trace of disapproval in his expression.
"The young master has acquired a few bruises," he said to Davis, his tone carrying a subtle hint of reproach.
Davis scoffed dismissively. "Couldn't be helped—they had guns."
Thomas sighed softly, adjusting his flawlessly knotted tie with an almost imperceptible gesture. "Just because the attackers rarely manage to harm him doesn't mean you should handle him so roughly."
"Easier said than done. We lost two men during the last assassination attempt," Davis retorted with a touch of irritation. His expression hardened at the memory, and for a brief moment, something painful flickered in his eyes.
"I know your job isn't easy," Thomas said calmly but firmly, "but Mister Vale will not be pleased if his son ends up with broken bones under your protection."
"He hasn't broken anything—yet," Davis grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Relax, I'm not made of glass," a sleepy voice called out.
Helios stepped out of his room, yawning. Despite having slept for at least five hours, he looked utterly exhausted. His dark hair was tousled, and a pair of glasses perched slightly askew on his nose. As he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, he resembled a tired college student more than the brilliant mind behind a multi-million-dollar enterprise.
Yet despite his fatigue, his appearance remained impeccable. He wore a pair of tailored trousers in a deep navy blue that accentuated his slender silhouette, paired with a silver-gray shirt with the top buttons undone. The fine fabric clung to his frame, offering a fleeting glimpse of his collarbones—delicately outlined beneath pale skin. Dante couldn't help but notice the faint bruises visible at the lowest point of the open shirt.
One thing was certain: no matter what Helios wore, it always seemed like it had been designed specifically for him. He really looked good. The lady's were surely mooning over him. Dante suspected the family had their own personal designer—why not? Vale clearly had the means to afford such luxuries.
"You really should take better care of yourself, young master," Thomas said with the gentle chiding of someone who genuinely cared.
Helios waved him off casually. "That's what I have bodyguards for," he muttered, yawning again as he ran his fingers through his dark curls.
Thomas' gaze lingered on Helios for a moment, a mix of concern and quiet resignation in his expression. Finally, he turned back to Davis, his tone becoming more urgent. "At the rate he's been attacked these past weeks, he'll soon be nothing but bruises and scrapes. I strongly advise you to be a little more careful."
Before either of them could respond, Thomas stepped forward and buttoned another button on the young man's shirt—as if that simple gesture could somehow hide the evidence of the attacks. Then he sighed softly, as if he had fought this battle too many times and lost.
"Breakfast is ready," he continued, his professional mask firmly back in place. "Your father will be joining you before you both head to the company."
Helios nodded wearily and began to move. Davis and Dante followed closely behind, their footsteps barely audible on the marble floor. Eventually, they reached the expansive dining hall, where Vale was already waiting for his son. The tall windows allowed the first morning light to stream in, casting the room in a soft, golden glow.
"There you are!" Vale greeted his son with a broad smile that softened the sharpness of his eyes. "Did you sleep well?"
Helios sank into the chair that had clearly been set specifically for him. Without directly answering the question, he simply gave a tired nod, reached for the coffee pot, and poured himself a cup. He took a careful sip, as if he needed the caffeine jolt just to anchor himself to the present moment.
Vale, unbothered by his son's lack of enthusiasm, carried on the conversation in his usual relaxed manner. He spoke about the latest developments in the company, mentioned an upcoming business trip, and casually asked questions—most of which Helios answered with brief responses or another vague nod.
Dante had taken position near Helios, arms loosely crossed, his gaze occasionally drifting toward the windows. He scanned the surroundings with the practiced vigilance of a man accustomed to danger. The vast gardens stretched quietly before him, but he knew from experience that silence could be deceiving.
Still—who would be foolish enough to attack an estate this heavily guarded?
The longer he observed Helios and Vale, the clearer a few things became. First: Helios was definitely not a morning person. Second: Vale undoubtedly loved his son—it was evident in every word and glance. Third: Despite the respect Helios held for his father, there was a certain coldness between them, as though something unspoken hung heavily over their relationship.
Whether a specific event had caused this distance, Dante couldn't say. He hadn't known Helios long enough to fully understand his quirks. Perhaps it was just exhaustion—the dark circles under his eyes and his sluggish posture certainly suggested as much.
Dante straightened quietly, his senses remaining alert. It wasn't his job to analyze family tensions or worry about their relationship. His job was to ensure Helios' safety—and that was exactly what he intended to do.
His gaze continued to sweep the room, noting every movement of the staff and every soft clink of cutlery. In his line of work, even the smallest lapse in attention could have fatal consequences, and he wasn't willing to take that risk. After all, even someone from the inside could pose a threat—or at least disguise themselves as one.
For now, however, breakfast passed without incident. Vale finished his meal with his usual composed manner, while Helios barely touched his food. Half a bread roll and three cups of coffee—unthinkable to Dante. His own body required substantial fuel to endure the physical demands of his profession. Helios, on the other hand, seemed to survive on caffeine alone.
At least after three cups of coffee he was more awake. How his stomach managed that on just half a bread roll was a mystery to Dante.
When Vale and Helios finished their breakfast, they rose and made their way to their vehicles. Vale was accompanied by his bodyguards, while Helios was escorted by Davis, Dante, and two additional guards. They traveled in separate cars, and to Dante's delight, they were the new models powered by the innovative fuel.
Although he had ridden in a similar vehicle the night before, he had also seen the car they had apparently used after the assassination attempt. He had seen all the blood they had washed out of it. Sure, he had seen plenty of blood in his life—both from his comrades and from those he had killed himself. But despite his hardened nature, he couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for those who lost their lives in the line of duty.
On the drive back to the estate, his thoughts had drifted to the fallen—and to how lucky some were to have a quick, painless death. Not everyone was granted that privilege.
A guard was driving the car, Davis sat in the passenger seat, while Helios had taken a spot between Dante and another guard. With a barely audible hum, the doors closed, and the vehicle glided smoothly forward.
Dante was fascinated by how quiet the car was. Compared to the usual steam-powered vehicles, it was nearly silent—and the acrid smell of oil was completely absent. The entire driving experience was surprisingly pleasant. Cars like this were probably reserved for the wealthy. The luxurious interior alone surpassed anything Dante could ever dream of affording.
He sank deeper into the seat—and damn, did it feel good! The fabric was soft, the cushioning perfectly contoured to the body. Even for his muscular frame, the seat provided exceptional comfort. Rarely had simply sitting felt so comfortable.
He almost let out a satisfied sigh but caught himself at the last moment, straightening up again. He was on duty—relaxation was a luxury he couldn't afford. Any lapse in attention could have fatal consequences.
A soft laugh pulled him from his thoughts. Confused, he turned his head and saw Helios watching him with an amused sparkle in his eyes. The young man had covered his mouth with his hand to hide his grin.
"Relax," Helios said with a teasing undertone. "The car is bulletproof. There's no need to be so tense."
Davis sighed quietly and glanced at Dante. "We probably all reacted like that the first time we sat here," he murmured. Then he shot Helios a warning look. "But just because the car is bulletproof doesn't mean nothing else can happen."
Helios shrugged indifferently and made a dismissive gesture. "Maybe so, but I doubt anyone would mess with this car—it's far too well protected."
Davis exhaled in frustration. "You're far too careless about your safety."
"What's the point of being constantly on edge?" Helios countered with a casual smile. "You're here to protect me—and since I'm pretty relaxed, I'd say you're doing your job well, aren't you?"
"We're doing a damn good job," Davis snorted proudly. But his voice grew serious again as he studied Helios with concern. "How bad are your injuries, really?"
Helios waved it off. "Just a few bruises. Like I said, I'm not made of glass. My father doesn't need to know about it either. Just keep doing what you're doing."
Dante observed Helios silently. Despite his seemingly casual demeanor, Dante noticed the subtle nuances in his posture—a hint of fatigue, the barely perceptible tightening of his shoulders with certain movements. It was clear that the events of the past few days hadn't left him unscathed.
Still, it wasn't Dante's place to interfere or question the young man's decisions. His job was to ensure his safety—and that's exactly what he would do, no matter how lightly Helios seemed to take the situation.
Davis regarded him thoughtfully. "In emergencies, we can't afford to be gentle with you. Apologies."
"I never asked you to be gentle," Helios replied, meeting Davis's gaze. His tone was a bit strange, and so was the way they spoke to each other.
Helios seemed to genuinely trust Davis, and in return, Davis appeared sincerely concerned for Helios—more than one would expect from someone simply fulfilling a duty. Their relationship went beyond the usual roles of protector and protected. There was an almost friendly familiarity in their interactions.
But that was none of Dante's business.
"What's on the agenda today?" Davis eventually asked, turning his gaze back to the road. "Since you were at the clinic yesterday, I'm guessing you won't be leaving the lab today."
"Good deduction," Helios said with a smile. "I'll be finishing my current project and starting the next one right away. My father asked me for something, and I want to get it done as quickly as possible."
Davis sighed softly. "Sounds like a long day."
"Nothing caffeine can't fix. Luckily, Thomas is always at the company during the day. I wouldn't know what to do without his coffee." Helios yawned deeply and leaned back comfortably.
Davis let out a quiet, almost amused laugh. "Next time you get injured, you should check whether there's blood or coffee running through your veins."
Helios snorted in amusement. "That would actually be ideal. Then I wouldn't have to drink the stuff." His expression grew more serious. "By the way, it'll be enough if two of you accompany me later. No one's dumb enough to attack the company. Dante and Davis, you're coming with me. The others will join the security staff and return in the evening when we head home."
"Yes, sir!" the guards in the car responded in unison.
Dante leaned back in his seat, letting his gaze drift to the window. It seemed a relatively quiet day in the lab awaited him. That meant little action, but it would give him the opportunity to better familiarize himself with the environment where he would be spending the next few months.
Still, he wouldn't lower his guard. Quiet could be deceiving, and he wouldn't lose focus for even a second.