Elora entered with silent steps, a tray balanced effortlessly in one hand. Steam curled from the thick stew, rich with chunks of meat and vegetables, its aroma warm and inviting. A slab of bread sat beside it, golden crust catching the light, with a simple cup of water completing the meal.
With her free hand, she drew a stool close to Klein's bed and set the tray down with practiced grace.
The fragrance of the food filled the chamber, and Klein's stomach betrayed him with a low, eager growl.
"Thank you, Elora," Klein said, his voice carrying a rare gentleness, gratitude softening his sharp features.
"Of course, my lord," she replied with a slight bow, though her hands lingered on the tray a moment longer, as if reluctant to step away.
Klein's gaze drifted from the food to her attire—the crisp black-and-white of a maid's uniform. His eyes lingered, scrutinizing, before his lips curved into something caught between amusement and reproach.
"You should cast off that garb," he said, calm but edged with certainty. "A warrior has no need to dress as a servant. That role does not suit you anymore."
Her eyes flickered, caught off guard. "How… how long have you known?" she asked, her voice sharp, composure cracking like glass under a hammer.
"I suspected for years," Klein admitted. He leaned back slightly, his tone more reflective than accusatory.
"At first, I believed you a spy. Perhaps one of my siblings sent you—your movements were too deliberate, too precise, for you to be just a maid. But your actions betrayed you. You did not pry into affairs. You did not linger in gossip. A spy thrives on whispers, yet you avoided them. That contradiction was my first clue."
Elora froze, lips parting but no words forming.
"I even considered sending you away," Klein continued, steady and deliberate. "It would have been safer. If you were a spy, cutting ties early would spare me the eventual knife in the dark. But then… I watched you. And I realized. You weren't gathering secrets, so I suspected you might be something more."
The words fell heavy, a stone cast into still waters.
Elora's throat tightened. She had thought this was her one good secret, a truth she could keep hidden while serving and protecting him from the shadows. But it seemed she had been standing in the light all along.
"So you knew for that long… why didn't you say anything?" she asked.
Klein's gaze hardened. "Because I didn't know what your identity truly was. I only confirmed it moments ago.
"The Valemont family does not simply release servants. A maid cannot walk free from that household without a leash of chains or a burial shroud. For the Duke to permit your departure, you had to be more than a maid. A warrior. No—more than that. One bound to him by duty. A guardian. Perhaps even his most trusted."
Her chest constricted at his words. He had deduced the truth completely. She could only sigh—he wasn't called a genius for nothing after all.
Watching her, Klein noticed the storm flicker across her expression. Instead of meeting it with solemnity, he chuckled softly—a sound warmer than the words he had spoken moments before.
"Do not trouble yourself, Elora. Knowing who you are doesn't change anything between us."
Her head lifted slightly, blue eyes meeting his.
His gaze dipped to her uniform again, lingering with pointed intent. "Though I'll say it once more: shed that outfit. You are no longer my maid." His lips curved faintly, half-smile, half-command. "Dress as who you are, not the mask you wore for me."
The words hung in the quiet chamber, settling deep in Elora's heart like an oath reforged.
"But—" she began.
Klein cut her off before the protest could fully form. "I know what you're going to say," he interrupted, voice calm but firm. "You want to keep serving me. I've already accepted that. But clothes matter.
"If you follow me around dressed as a maid while I'm nothing but a stripped-down commoner, you'll draw every wandering eye. And eyes bring questions… questions bring trouble."
Her features shifted. The warmth drained from her face, replaced by a chilling sharpness. Her gaze hardened into steel, her posture sharpened with silent intent.
It was not the face of a maid, nor even a dutiful servant. It was the face of a predator measuring threats.
Klein felt it instantly—like an icy blade grazing the skin of his neck. A pressure coiled in the air, faint but undeniable, the killing intent of someone who had walked through blood before. His body stiffened, a cold shiver creeping up his spine.
Terrifying, he thought, though outwardly he wore only a smile.
"At ease, Elora," Klein said lightly, though a subtle edge of command threaded his voice. "I know you could cut through most problems before they reached me. But I'd still rather avoid trouble entirely. A battle avoided is often better than a battle won."
There was a pause. Then Elora inclined her head, bowing low. "As you wish, my lord."
The words stirred something uneasy in Klein. "That's good," he said, then added, almost awkwardly, "but… can we not do the 'my lord' thing? I'd prefer you call me by my name."
For the first time, hesitation flickered in her emerald eyes. Yet after a heartbeat, she nodded. "…As you wish, Klein."
She placed her hands before her, bowing once more. "I'll leave you to your food, then."
Her steps were light, disciplined, but Klein's eyes followed her until the door closed behind her.
The moment she was gone, he exhaled heavily, dragging a hand through his hair. The mask dropped.
He would be lying if he said he wasn't afraid. Knowing someone of such power lingered constantly at his side was a double-edged comfort. Reassuring, yes, but dangerous too.
Loyalty was a bond, not a chain. Bonds could fray. Loyalty could fade. What then? If Elora ever shifted her stance, he would be left bare before the strike.
No—he couldn't allow himself to rely on her forever. He needed power. His own power.
Klein's gaze dropped to the steaming stew before him, but his appetite soured with the thought. He sighed again, forcing himself to take a bite of bread, chewing mechanically as his mind churned.
The trial. The sin cores. His path forward lay there—but even that road was shrouded in thorns.
His affinity was sealed. His mana core dormant. He could neither absorb nor manipulate energy. Even if he claimed a sin core, its gift would slumber uselessly inside him, a weapon locked in a sheath he could not open.
A headache pressed behind his temples. He set the bread down.
"System," he called quietly.
[What.]
The voice came rough and irritable, like gravel scraping metal. Klein ignored the tone.
"You claim to be all-powerful, right?"
[Of course I am.]
The system's reply carried grating arrogance.
"Then you must have a solution for my sealed affinity."
[Solution? Naturally. But… you won't like it.]
Klein's brows drew together. "What do you mean?"
[There are countless affinities in existence, countless reasons one might be sealed. Sometimes the vessel—your body—is unfit to channel it, requiring special conditioning. Other times… the requirement is simpler.]
"Which is?" Klein pressed.
[Death. Or rather… the brink of it.]
The words dropped like a stone into the room. Klein's frown deepened. "…Explain."
[Some affinities are bound by ordeal. To awaken fire, you may need to burn until flesh chars and spirit quivers. For water, to drown until lungs collapse. Each element demands its own crucible. Only by standing at the edge of death can the seal be forced open.]
Klein's jaw tightened as he processed that.
"So," he muttered, voice low, "what you're saying is—if I want even a chance at unsealing my affinity, I need to meet whatever condition my element demands."
[Correct.]
Klein leaned back, exhaustion tugging at him. He had suspected as much, which was why he had trained relentlessly even after awakening. But all that effort had yielded nothing.
Would death's shadow succeed where discipline failed? Perhaps. But how could he gamble when he didn't even know what affinity slept within him?
"System," he asked after a pause, voice tinged with quiet hope. "Is there a way to know my affinity even though it's sealed?"
[Yes. Two ways.]
"Which are?"
[The first: an affinity stone. Touch one, and it reveals your true alignment. Simple enough—if you can find one. Which you won't.]
Klein's heart sank slightly. "…And the second?"
[Find a being with eyes strong enough to pierce the veil of your seal. Someone who can look straight into your soul and body and read what slumbers there.]
The system's voice grew almost mocking, a sigh dragging out its words.
[But beings like that don't exist here. Not in this backwater world. So you're cooked. And since you're cooked, so am I. What a pitiful fate…]