The standoff stretched between them, both men taking measure of the other.
Then Darius chuckled, a dark, bitter sound laced with something like disgust. "You've got the same kind of sharp tongue Count Varen used to hate. The kind that saw through his bullshit."
Rei's eyebrows rose slightly. That wasn't the response he'd expected.
"Did he punish people who spoke truth?" Rei asked carefully.
"Punish?" Darius let out a harsh laugh. "No. He ignored them. Dismissed them. Then went back to his wine and his dice and his delusions of grandeur." His expression twisted with barely-concealed contempt. "The great Count Aldric Varen. What a fucking legend."
The bitterness in his voice was palpable, thick enough to choke on.
Rei leaned forward slightly, reassessing everything. "You didn't respect him."
"Respect?" Darius' eyes flashed. "I served him. There's a difference. I took an oath to House Varen to the house, not the man. My father served his father. My grandfather served his grandfather. The Vales have bled for the Varens for three generations." He touched the faded lion crest on his forearm. "But Aldric? Aldric was a disgrace to everything that crest used to mean."
Rei stayed silent, letting Darius' anger flow.
"You want to know the truth about the noble Count Varen?" Darius leaned forward, his voice dropping to something caustic. "He was a gambling addict who spent more time in underground fighting rings and card houses than governing his territory. He drank himself stupid most nights and made 'business decisions' while three sheets to the wind."
"And his son?" Rei asked.
Darius' laugh was ugly. "Lucien Varen. The apple didn't fall far from that rotten tree. Spoiled, arrogant, cruel when he had power over someone. He thought being born noble meant he could do whatever he wanted without consequences." His jaw clenched. "He was wrong."
Rei's mind raced, recalibrating his entire understanding. "What happened?"
"What happened?" Darius spread his hands bitterly. "Lucien inherited his father's vices and doubled them. Gambling, drinking, whoring, but with none of Aldric's restraint. The old Count at least tried to keep up appearances. Lucien didn't care. He'd bet on anything. Fighting dogs. Dice games. Card tournaments. Underground duels."
Darius paused, his expression darkening further.
"One night, about three years ago, Lucien was deep in a high-stakes game at one of the Isles' gambling houses. He'd already lost a fortune, family heirlooms, trade contracts, mining rights. But he kept betting. Kept losing. Kept drinking."
"Let me guess," Rei said softly. "He bet something he couldn't afford to lose."
"The county." Darius' voice was flat, dead. "The stupid bastard bet the entire county on a single hand of cards."
Rei's breath caught. "And the opponent was"
"Marlen Crest." Darius spat the name like poison. "Rich merchant from the Isles. He'd been circling House Varen for years, waiting for an opportunity. And that night, drunk and desperate, Lucien Varen handed it to him on a silver platter."
The pieces clicked together with brutal clarity.
The debt wasn't accumulated slowly through predatory loans. It was lost in a single night of gambling. The Order didn't need to slowly corrupt House Varen, the Varens destroyed themselves.
"What happened after Lucien lost?" Rei asked.
Darius' expression went cold. "Marlen Crest called in the debt immediately. Showed up with legal documents, ironclad contracts, witnessed by half a dozen nobles who'd been at that game. Count Aldric tried to fight it, tried to claim his son had no authority to gamble away the county, but the law was clear. Lucien was of age. The bet was legitimate. The debt was valid."
"And the Order?"
"They backed Crest. Of course they did. He'd already been in their pocket for years, funding their 'awakening research' and 'humanitarian projects.' The moment he owned Varen territory, he handed the Order access to the iron mines, the trade routes, everything." Darius' hands clenched into fists. "Within six months, Order agents were everywhere. Within a year, the independent merchants were gone, replaced by Order-approved puppets. Within two years, the territory wasn't 'Varen County' anymore, it was 'Western Administrative District Seven.'"
"What happened to Lucien?" Rei asked, though part of him already knew.
"Dead. Found in an alley three weeks after the takeover with his throat slit. Official story was 'robbery gone wrong.' Everyone knew it was either Crest tying up loose ends or angry commoners who'd lost everything because of his stupidity." Darius shrugged. "No one mourned him."
"And Count Aldric?"
"Drank himself to death within the year. Couldn't live with the shame. Couldn't face the fact that his bloodline had destroyed everything his ancestors built." Darius looked out the window at the mechanical birds. "I was away when it happened. Sent on a fool's errand to inspect trade routes that didn't need inspecting. By the time I got back, the estate was empty, the Count was in his grave, and Marlen Crest was holding court in what used to be the Varen great hall."
Silence settled between them, heavy with bitter history.
Rei's mind was racing through implications, recalculating everything.
This changes everything. House Varen didn't fall because they were noble victims of Order corruption they fell because they were weak, corrupt, and stupid. The son literally gambled away an entire county.
Which means the title isn't sacred. It's not about bloodline anymore. It's about ownership. Control. Legitimacy through wealth and Order approval.
If Lucien could lose it in a card game, then someone else can acquire it through better means.
Rei filed the information away, his strategic mind already sketching possibilities, but he said nothing. Revealing his thoughts now would be premature. Dangerous. Darius was useful, potentially trustworthy, but trust was earned slowly, not given freely to someone who'd just met you.
"You're quiet," Darius observed, studying Rei's face. "Most people have opinions about the Varens. Usually involves a lot of cursing."
Rei offered a slight smile. "I'm just processing. It's a lot to take in, an entire noble house destroyed by gambling addiction and poor decisions."
"Welcome to the reality of the 'glorious nobility,'" Darius said bitterly. "Half of them are incompetent. The other half are corrupt. The few good ones get crushed by the Order or their own peers."
"Is that why you stayed?" Rei asked. "Even after everything? You could have disappeared. Changed your name. Started over somewhere the Order doesn't have eyes."
Darius looked down at the lion crest on his forearm, his expression complicated equal parts loyalty, regret, and something Rei couldn't quite read.
"The Vale family doesn't break oaths," he said finally. "Even when the people we swore to don't deserve it. My father served. My grandfather served. It's in the blood, I guess. Stupid, maybe, but..." He shrugged. "It's who we are."
Rei nodded slowly. "Honor, even when it costs you everything."
"Something like that." Darius stood, stretching his back with an audible crack. "Anyway, you should rest. Your body's been through hell. Push it too hard and you'll tear something that won't heal right."
"Before you go" Rei spoke up. "Thank you. For pulling me out of the river. For telling me the truth about what happened. You didn't have to do either."
Darius paused at the door, glancing back. "Maybe not. But like I said you've got fire. Real fire, not the fake kind. Would've been a waste to let the river take it." His expression softened just slightly. "Besides, anyone who survives what you did... maybe you're meant for something. Or maybe you're just stubborn as hell."
Rei smiled genuinely this time. "Can't it be both?"
That earned him a short laugh. "Fair enough." Darius reached for the door handle, then stopped. "Listen, if you need anything while you're recovering, just ask. I'm not much, but I know people. Can get supplies, information, whatever you need to get back on your feet."
"I might take you up on that," Rei said carefully.
"Do." Darius met his gaze, something like kinship in his eyes. "World's shit enough as it is. People who survive it should help each other when they can."
Then he left, the door clicking shut behind him.
Rei lay back against the thin pillow, staring at the ceiling.
Darius Vale. Former bodyguard to a fallen noble house. Loyal despite everything. Connected to the underground networks, knows the territory, understands how the nobility operated.
Potentially valuable. But not an ally yet. Not someone to share plans with. Trust is built over time, through actions, not words.
For now, he's a contact. A source of information. Someone who might become something more if I prove myself worth following.
But the information Darius had given him was gold.
Rei's mind began organizing it methodically:
Lucien Varen gambled away the county three years ago (in the future timeline) Marlen Crest won it legitimately through a witnessed, legal bet The Order backed Crest's claim immediately, they were already working together The county changed hands through debt/ownership, not bloodline The Varen title is now tied to land ownership, not hereditary right Darius Vale remains loyal to House Varen as a concept, not the failed individuals
I don't need to be born noble to become Count I need to control the debt/ownership Marlen Crest is the key, replace him, take his position The Order will support whoever serves their interests If I can become the "better version" of what they wanted from Varen...
Don't just stop Crest from taking the county Don't just become a merchant Become Count Varen Use noble title as shield for family Control the resources the Order needs Make myself too valuable to eliminate
The scope of it was staggering. Ambitious to the point of insanity.
A nobody from Cindralith becoming a Count within five years.
But Rei had died once already. Had watched his family burn. Had been given an impossible second chance.
If he was going to save Mira, save his family, survive what was coming, he needed power. Real power. The kind that made even the Eternal Order think twice.
And nothing said power like a noble title backed by economic control.
That night, after Darius left and the clinic fell into heavy silence, Rei lay awake staring at the mechanical birds outside his window.
Their glass eyes blinked in perfect unison, one-two-three, pause, one-two-three, recording everything, transmitting to surveillance hubs he knew were watching.
They saw everything last time. Watched this city burn. Watched my family die. Watched me drown in that river.
He sat up slowly, pain stabbing down his spine like white-hot needles. His reflection in the dirty window glass looked older than twenty-three. Older than any age, really, eyes that had lived through hell twice.
"But this time..." A smile spread across his face, cold and sharp as broken glass. "This time I'll take everything from you. Every resource. Every territory. Every piece of power you think you own."
A low chuckle escaped his throat, not the manic laughter from before, but something darker. More controlled. The sound of a man who'd seen the game board from both sides and finally understood all the moves.
"Count Aldric gambled his legacy away because he was weak. Lucien lost everything because he was stupid." Rei's eyes gleamed in the darkness. "But I've already lost everything once. I know exactly what it costs. And I know exactly what I'm willing to pay."
The mechanical birds turned their heads toward his window with eerie synchronization, glass eyes focusing on him.
Rei stared back at them without fear.
"Watch all you want," he whispered. "Record every word. Send it to your handlers. By the time they understand what they're seeing, I'll already own half of what they need to function."
His reflection smiled back at him, a man who'd died and crawled back from hell with a plan.
The audacity of it should have terrified him.
Instead, it felt like the first real breath he'd taken since dying.
"Let's see what happens," Rei murmured to his reflection, to the mechanical birds, to the future and past colliding inside his skull, "when a dead man decides to become a king."
His laughter faded, leaving only that sharp, dangerous smile.
The Sentinel birds blinked and recorded.
And somewhere in the Order's surveillance network, an algorithm flagged unusual behavior from Subject: Unknown, Location: Western District Medical Facility.
But by the time anyone reviewed the footage, Rei's consciousness would be gone, pulled back across five years to a body that could actually move, actually fight, actually build toward the impossible future he'd just promised himself.
The darkness pulled him under.
And this time, Rei welcomed it.
Because every night he died brought him one morning closer to becoming everything the Order feared.