Adrian walked past Nisha without saying anything.
He didn't look back.
Outside, the night air was cold and quiet.
He stepped into the black car waiting at the gate and closed the door behind him.
The streets were empty, lined with dim lights that flickered now and then. The city seemed half-asleep.
The glow from the lamps reflected off the windshield as he drove through the still roads.
It didn't take long to reach the airport.
Security waved him through without a single question.
His people had made arrangements for him already.
A private jet waited on the runway, lights glowing faintly against the dark sky.
The engines hummed softly.
A young steward stood at the steps, straightening his uniform when Adrian approached.
"Where to, sir?" the steward asked.
"Geneva."
The man nodded and stepped aside.
Minutes later, the jet took off, slicing through the clouds.
Adrian sat near the window, silent. He didn't sleep.
His reflection in the glass looked calm, but the dullness in his eyes never disappeared.
By the time they landed, the horizon was still dark.
A dark-colored sedan waited at the edge of the runway. It was unmarked, and well maintained.
Adrian got in and drove himself.
The road stretched ahead, winding through mountain passes that led toward the Swiss Alps. The air grew colder as he climbed higher.
Snow lined the sides of the road.
He didn't play music. The only sound was the low hum of the engine and the crunch of gravel under the tires.
After a while, the mountains came into view.
The moonlight rested on their peaks like a thin sheet of silver.
He slowed the car and turned onto a narrow dirt path.
It led to a pair of tall, wrought-iron gates covered with frost.
Beyond the gates was a thick wall of trees.
A forest.
To anyone else, it looked like an ordinary forest.
But to those who knew the truth, it had another name.
[The Whispering Veil.]
It wasn't on any map, and no traveler ever came close.
Among the Exorcists, though, it was well-known.
The forest was home to countless spirits — whimsical and strange — bound to protect what stood within.
They played with minds, twisting direction and memory.
Those who entered with no ill intent were gently led out again.
Those who came with dark thoughts were never seen alive.
And at the heart of the Whispering Veil stood House Daelthorn's main estate.
For centuries, the forest had guarded it perfectly. No enemy had ever crossed through.
Adrian parked the car and stepped out. The iron gates groaned as they opened, as if the forest recognized him.
He walked into the woods.
His dull, grey eyes watched the trees with detachment, and his boots made no sound on the moss-covered ground.
The trees loomed above him, their branches stretching like arms toward the sky.
For a few minutes, nothing moved.
Then the air began to shimmer faintly.
Tiny lights appeared, floating between the trees like soft fireflies. Their glow flickered as faint whispers followed.
"Is it Adrian?"
"Adrian came back."
"Adrian isn't allowed to return."
"Adrian should turn back."
The voices overlapped, some distant, some close to his ear. It was like being surrounded by a hundred murmurs at once.
Adrian didn't stop walking.
"I want to go to the main house," he said quietly.
The forest went silent.
The spirits floated around him, their light trembling.
"Can you lead the way?" he asked.
A pause followed.
Then the whispers returned, sharper this time.
"No!"
"Go back!"
"You must leave!"
"You are not allowed!"
He didn't argue. He just kept walking.
Then, one small light hovered close to his shoulder. It flickered softly, unsure.
"I… I'll show the way," it said, voice small and timid.
Adrian glanced at it. "Thank you."
The forest froze again.
Then chaos broke out.
"Did he say thank you?!"
"He thanked us!"
"No, he thanked me!"
"Adrian said thank you!"
"Make a path!"
"Adrian will thank us if we help him!"
"Make a path for Adrian!"
Dozens of glowing motes burst into motion, swirling through the air like a storm of tiny lanterns.
The fog lifted. The trees bent aside, forming a narrow trail where there had been none.
Adrian continued walking.
The spirits floated ahead, lighting his path like a group of excited children showing off a secret shortcut.
The deeper he went, the colder it became.
The silence returned, heavier now, but the lights stayed near him, never letting him lose his way.
Far ahead, two guards stood at their post near the mansion gates.
The emblem of House Daelthorn — a silver serpent wrapped around a black sword — gleamed faintly on their uniforms.
The gate itself was massive, made of reinforced metal that looked more like a fortress wall than an entrance.
The guards were strong, trained men. They were both Rank 1 Exorcists, and were skilled enough to handle most threats that came their way.
The older one frowned, looking toward the forest. "Do you feel that?"
"Yeah," the younger replied. "The spirits are restless today."
They both turned when a figure appeared at the edge of the clearing.
A man in a dark coat stepped out from between the trees.
His expression remained calm as he approached.
The air seemed to ripple slightly behind him, disturbed by unseen forces.
The younger guard's hand went to his sword.
"Who's that? Did anyone say we were expecting visitors?"
The older guard didn't answer. He could feel it, the faint disturbance in the barrier that protected the estate. The spirits were moving.
Adrian stopped a few steps away from the gate.
The guards straightened, both alert now.
They noticed the sword at his waist.
"State your name and reason for visit," the older guard called.
"I'm here to meet the head of the house," Adrian said evenly.
The guards frowned.
No outsider spoke about the head of Daelthorn so brazenly, even if they were led here by the spirits.
The younger one scowled and drew his sword.
"Watch your tone. You don't have any Aura. If you're an Exorcist, you're barely Rank 0. Who do you think you are, talking about the House Head like that?"
Adrian's eyes moved from the guard to the gate behind him.
"This is a waste of time," he said quietly. "I'll meet him myself."
"Stop!" the guard shouted, stepping forward. "You're not going anywhere—"
His voice turned into a scream.
Blood splattered across the ground as his right arm fell, severed cleanly at the shoulder.
The older guard froze, shock spreading across his face.
"W-what—?"
Adrian didn't move. His sword was still sheathed.
The second guard shouted and rushed forward, blade raised. His training took over. His movements were sharp and certain.
He was strong, confident, and fast.
But he never reached Adrian.
His sword slipped from his grip as his wrist opened in a neat line. The hand hit the dirt before he realized it was gone.
Both men dropped to their knees, screaming in pain.
Adrian stepped past the fallen guards, ignoring their screams and the blood spreading across the ground.
His eyes stayed fixed on the gate.
He stopped beside the keypad and entered a code from memory.
A soft beep followed, and the massive gates opened slowly, groaning under their own weight.
Inside, the courtyard lights flickered on.
More guards had already gathered, weapons drawn and expressions tense.
They lined up in formation, ready to intercept whoever had broken through the outer defenses.
Adrian didn't stop walking.
"I'm Adrian Daelthorn," he said, his voice steady and clear. "The fifth born of the House Head. I've come to meet my father. Anyone who tries to stop me will face the consequences."
No one moved.
The guards exchanged nervous glances, uncertain if they had heard him right.
He looked at them with dull, grey eyes that carried no warmth, the same eyes that hadn't changed since he first entered the forest.
Then he took another step forward.
The moment the first guard lunged at him, his hand flew off his arm and landed on the ground. The man screamed and fell backward.
Another tried to circle behind Adrian, but his sword slipped from his grip before he even felt the pain of his wrist being sliced off.
The air didn't move. Adrian didn't seem to move either.
It was as if stepping within a meter of him sealed their fate.
It didn't matter how much Aura they poured into their attacks. It didn't matter how trained or fast they were.
They all ended the same way: broken and bleeding.
A thin pool of blood spread across the stone path, but not a single drop touched Adrian.
He stopped in front of the mansion doors, his coat still untouched, his breathing calm.
The double doors opened quietly, and a man stood there waiting.
It was the butler.
He bowed deeply, his voice calm but carrying a faint tremor. "It's good to see you, Young Master Adrian. It's been a long time since we last met."
Adrian said nothing.
The butler slowly raised his head, meeting Adrian's eyes for only a second before lowering them again.
"I must apologize, young master," he said carefully, "but I cannot allow you to enter without the provisional head's permission."
Adrian's stared at him for several moments.
"Move," he said simply.
The butler froze.
A cold, instinctive fear spread through him. His chest tightened, and his knees almost buckled.
It felt like he was standing in front of a beast instead of a man.
He was Rank 3 — a level of power that placed him among the elite — but that didn't matter now.
In front of Adrian, he couldn't even move his fingers properly.
"Y-Young Master Adrian, please, I—"
Before he could finish, Adrian's hand moved.
The sword slid halfway out of its sheath, the edge gleaming faintly under the light.
It was so fast that only someone of the butler's level could even notice it.
The blade stopped an inch from his shoulder.
But before Adrian could move further, three swords appeared at his neck in the same instant.
The air thickened.
A middle-aged man with a patchy beard stood to his left, his sword pressed lightly against Adrian's throat.
On the right, a teenage girl with sharp eyes and a cold expression held her weapon steady.
Between them stood a boy — no older than fifteen — holding the sword against Adrian's neck.
All three of them glared at Adrian.
The boy's dull, grey and empty eyes locked onto Adrian's.
"Who are you?" the boy demanded. "How dare you attack our guards? Do you have a death wish—?!"
He stopped mid-sentence.
Adrian turned his head slightly, meeting the boy's eyes.
Lucas flinched as if struck. His mouth closed before he could finish the sentence.
The light in his grey eyes dimmed. Whatever power he had started to summon faded instantly, crushed under something stronger, something older.
The air seemed heavier now.
The girl's grip tightened on her sword, her eyes narrowing.
"Why do you have the Hollow Eyes of House Daelthorn?" she asked coldly.