In the drawing room, the three Eosviles exchanged piercing glares. The scent of spilled tea lingered in the air, sharp and pungent rising from the floor.
Ron crossed his arms, his voice low. "You're from Ipsix, aren't you?"
"We are," Ashil answered simply.
Beside him, Vashil watched Ron with a cynical sneer.
"Is there a connection between us?" Ron pressed.
Vashil clicked his tongue in disdain. "A hybrid, and a talkative one at that."
Ron's eyes widened slightly at the slur. Before he could react, Ashil's elbow found Vashil's ribs with a dull thud.
"Ugh..." Vashil groaned, clutching his side. Ashil, you hit too hard.
"Ignore him," Ashil said, turning back to Ron. "Could you explain your lineage?"
Ron's gaze remained fixed on Vashil. "To what end?"
"To find that connection you mentioned," Ashil replied calmly.
The tension thickened. Ron finally spoke, his voice cold.
"My grandfather was an Eosvile. That is all I know."
Ashil raised an eyebrow.
"Your grandfather?"
"Yes."
Vashil shrugged, his face sour. "Definitely a hybrid."
Ron's knuckles whitened as he balled his hands into fists. Seeing the breaking point, Ashil stood and pointed toward the door.
"Get out! Vashil Eosvile!"
Vashil snorted. "Fine."
He turned and sauntered out of the room without a backward glance.
Ashil let out a long, weary sigh once the door closed.
"What was your grandfather's name?"
"Zallarck Eosvile."
Ashil's eyes fluttered shut. "Zallarck..." he murmured, the name carrying a weight only he seemed to understand.
Slowly, Ron relaxed his fists.
"Do you know him? My grandfather?"
"No. Do you remember your great-grandfather's name?"
Ron shook his head.
"My grandfather passed away when I was only two."
Ashil's gaze softened for a fleeting moment.
"I see..."
Ron straightened his posture, his tone shifting to business.
"Ashil, why are you trying to capture Rhea?"
"Orders from Young Master Honest."
"Do you know why?"
Ashil countered, "Why do you care?"
Ron exhaled a heavy, frustrated breath.
"Forget it. There's no point in continuing this."
He turned and left Ashil alone in the room.
Ashil watched the door close.
Is all of this part of the Young Master's plan?
Meanwhile, in the hallway, Ron walked while rubbing his face.
"The look on Nox's face back then... damn that sharp-tongued..."
***
On the second floor, in the building's left wing, Vashil—who had exited first—spotted a figure by the window.
It was Nox.
A smirk played on Vashil's lips. "Oh... the hybrid's brother," he whispered.
He approached Nox with predatory slowness.
Nox turned instantly at the sound of footsteps.
"What do you want?"
"So cold."
Nox offered no response, turning to head toward his room, but Vashil stepped into his path.
"Move!"
"Touchy, aren't you?" Vashil teased, shifting just a single step to the side.
Nox took a sharp breath and brushed past him. Just as he opened his door, he heard a low chuckle.
He stopped. "Is something funny?"
"Everything." Vashil's amethyst eyes seemed to darken, reflecting a hidden malice.
"Forget it," Nox muttered, stepping inside.
But as he went to shut the door, Vashil threw out one last barb.
"Ron Eosvile... he's your brother, right?"
The door halted mid-swing. Nox's eyes sharpened into blades.
"Ron... such a good brother, isn't he?"
Nox threw the door back open and stepped into Vashil's personal space, his face inches away.
"And?"
Vashil didn't flinch.
"He seems weak."
Nox's eyes snapped wide. The veins in his clenched fists pulsed with fury. He turned back as if to close the door again.
Vashil clicked his tongue and began to walk away, humming a nonchalant tune.
"Oh right... He's a hybrid, after all."
Clack.
The moment the door latched, Nox lunged.
Eat this!
Vashil, caught off guard, took a massive left hook directly to the jaw. He crumpled to the floor, but Nox didn't stop, raining down blows on the fallen man.
Reflexes finally kicked in. Vashil braced himself, found a gap, and shoved Nox back with a powerful surge to regain his feet.
Damn you.
Nox attacked again with blistering speed. Vashil countered with a high kick toward Nox's head.
"Ugh." Nox blocked with his forearms, forced back a step.
"Playing dirty, I see," Vashil spat, wiping blood from his split lip.
Nox surged forward again, his footwork tightening. Vashil's smile returned—a jagged, dangerous thing.
"Fine. I'll teach you a lesson."
The corridor became a blur of violence. Vashil kept his distance, utilizing his reach with lethal kicks, while Nox relied on the explosive power of his fists. As the fight wore on, Vashil's experience began to show. Nox was forced into a desperate defense.
***
Ron, heading to the second floor, heard the unmistakable sounds of a struggle—thuds and Nox's strained grunts. He broke into a sprint, rounding the corner to see Nox pinned down by Vashil's relentless kicks against the wall.
Ron immediately clenched his fists. That damn guy... it's not just his mouth that's foul, but his entire soul!
Without a word, Ron joined the fray. Vashil, hyper-focused on Nox, never saw the right hook that sent him reeling back three steps.
"Nox, are you okay?" Ron asked, reaching for his brother's shoulder.
Nox shoved his hand away. He didn't want comfort; he wanted blood. He lunged at the staggering Vashil, his breath coming in ragged gasps. A straight punch landed square on Vashil's nose, spraying crimson across the floor.
"Nox, stop!" Ron shouted.
Vashil wiped his face with his sleeve, glaring at them.
"I guess you brothers love a backstab... even if you aren't related by blood."
The world seemed to go still for Ron at those words.
Downstairs, the commotion had finally reached Ashil's ears.
"What is that noise?"
He rushed to the second floor, only to find the Eosvile brothers double-teaming Vashil.
How dare you.
Ashil charged at Ron.
Ron managed a cross-guard block, but the sheer force of Ashil's strike elicited an ominous crack from his bones.
"You have a death wish?" Ashil hissed.
Ron's gaze didn't waver. "Prove it."
The corridor erupted into a four-way brawl amid the sound of shattering windows. Nox took on Vashil, while Ron squared off against Ashil.
Despite his initial fury, Nox found himself cornered again. Vashil delivered a brutal kick to Nox's solar plexus, forcing a spray of blood from the younger man's mouth. As Nox fell to his knees, Vashil swung a finishing kick at his face. Nox jerked his head back just in time, the blow tearing open his temple instead of crushing his skull.
"Tch," Vashil cursed.
Nearby, Ron was struggling. He couldn't land a single hit on Ashil, who parried and countered with effortless grace. Desperate, Ron seized Ashil's sleeve as the punch came in, pulling him into a sharp headbutt to the forehead.
CRACK.
Ashil's vision blurred; Ron staggered back, dazed. Neither side was willing to yield, even as the fight turned into a bloody war of attrition.
The chaos was interrupted by the sound of shattering ceramic. SMASH!
Lena, who had been bringing soup for Lian, stood at the end of the corridor, her tray on the floor and her mouth agape. "Oh... my dear... Sir Nox… how awful…" she whispered.
The men, lost in their adrenaline, didn't even hear the breaking sound.
Lena turned and ran to Rhea's room, her breath hitching in panic. She pounded on the door.
"Lady Rhea! Lady Rhea!"
The door swung open.
"Lena? What's wrong?"
"They—they're fighting," Lena stammered, her body trembling. "Blood... clothes torn... they're..."
Rhea's peridot eyes darkened, turning a shade of green so deep it was almost black.
"They are fighting?"
Lena nodded.
Rhea stepped out, her pace deliberate and cold. "Where are they, Lena?"
"The—the left wing. In front of Sir Nox and Sir Ron's rooms."
Rhea accelerated, Lena trailing fearfully behind. As they reached the junction, the sound of the brawl echoed through the corridor.
Rhea's eyes widened. Ungrateful fools…
From the opposite wing, Outer watched the scene from a distance, a small, innocent smile on his face.
"Lian will be so happy to hear about this."
Rhea arrived at the scene. She saw Nox struggling to rise and Ron standing on trembling, unsteady legs. She noticed the blood on their faces, their tattered clothes, and the crimson splatters staining the floor.
"Magnificent."
Her voice was like a sudden frost, chilling the air in the corridor. All four men froze, turning toward the source.
Lena took a step back. They're finished…
Rhea walked forward, the rhythmic grinding of glass shards beneath her feet the only sound breaking the suffocating silence.
"Is this how you show your gratitude to me?"
No one spoke. Only the sound of heavy, ragged breathing remained.
Rhea turned her gaze to Ashil.
"Ashil, have you forgotten who I am?"
Ashil remained silent, but his hands began to shake.
She turned to Vashil.
"Did I not warn you to watch your behavior, Vashil?"
Vashil took a step back, averting his eyes. Ron, his vision still swimming, tried to focus on her.
Is this the same Rhea who cared for Lian?
Nox slumped against the wall, sliding down until he sat on the floor.
"Rhea..."
Rhea smiled—a cold, terrifying expression.
"Vashil, you love to show off, don't you?"
"Rhea, wait, I can explain," Ashil pleaded, his voice heavy with exhaustion.
"Whatever your explanation, the result is the same. You joined this party, Ashil," Rhea said flatly.
"Rhea, this was the Champ's fault!" Vashil deflected.
"Just because I don't fight back doesn't mean you can trample over me!" Rhea snapped.
Dammit, she's not listening, Vashil thought frantically.
"Rhea, calm down," Ashil tried again.
Rhea ignored him. She turned to Ron.
"Ron... you are just like them."
She turned her back on them and walked five paces away. She stopped and half-turned, her aura flaring.
"Allow me to show you the true capabilities of a Peaceraft servant. Connection L—"
Before the incantation could be completed, Lian appeared, with Outer standing right beside him.
To be continued...