"Fucker. What are you doing?"
Lythian asked.
Seven did not answer.
He simply kept walking, moving past the knights and maids and other household staff who turned to look at them with a mix of disdain and curiosity.
He did not spare them a glance.
A few knights reached for their weapons instinctively, only to freeze when he flashed the small emblem. As expected, none recognized him.
Now on the second floor, he made his way toward the third furthest room down the corridor.
"Hey, fuc—"
"Shut up."
"Fuck?! Don't fucking 'shut up' me. I said— urgkh-kh…"
Lythian groaned, not being able to finish his sentence as lightning pain struck him.
Seven continued walking.
Step.
By the time he reached the third furthest room, he turned to face the door where a name "Atreus Hart" was written on the tag.
"Hey, fuc—"
"Shut up."
"Huh?! Fucker. I said—urgkh-kh…"
Lythian choked mid-sentence, stumbling as a sudden and searing jolt of pain cracked through him like lightning ripping through bone.
He staggered, grasping at nothing, with breath caught in his throat as the hallway spun for half a second.
Seven kept moving.
Step.
Each footfall rang against the marble floor. By the time he reached the third door from the end, he stopped and stared at the nameplate without any visible reaction.
[ Atreus Hart ]
Right after, he stared at Lythian with the same blank expression and stepped aside.
"Fucker."
Lythian cursed as he stepped forward to knock on the door. But before his knuckles met the wood, the door swung open.
Creak.
Lythian paused.
Standing before him was a man who looked carved from a colder and finer world, wearing a high-collared coat of deep navy velvet tailored to perfection, with silver embroidery that shimmered subtly with each breath he took.
Not a strand of the man's platinum hair was out of place. His skin was pale, almost porcelain, and his eyes were a shade of vibrant blue.
Then, without hesitation, a pulse of Zaen rippled out from the man's body that warped the air around him for a fraction of a second.
His hand shot forward and gripped Lythian by the forehead and slammed his head against the wall a full meter behind them.
Thud!
The impact thundered through the corridor. Blood splattered like a burst of paint and streaked down the sturdy polished wall that showed no hint of a crack despite the immense force.
Lythian's body sagged. His eyes rolled back as they were stained with red and half-lidded in shock.
But Lythian was still breathing.
Thus the man did not let him drop.
He seized Lythian by the collar and lifted him with effortless strength, bringing his face inches from his own and bore his vivid blue eyes into him.
"Who are you?"
But to his surprise, Lythian was not the one who answered.
"Zevi card."
But Seven did.
He stood beside the doorway, one hand in his pocket and the other held out expectantly with palm open. His eyes did not flinch at the blood dripping down the wall or the twitch in Lythian's limbs.
If anything, he seemed mildly inconvenienced.
"Just as a compensation for the damage done to my property, brother."
"...Oh! Youngest?"
The man, Atreus, grip on Lythian did not loosen.
But his eyes narrowed as they landed on the boy speaking whom he immediately recognized: Seven Hart.
Atreus then turned his attention back to Lythian and brushed aside the blood-matted hair from his forehead, revealing the faint, glowing glyph etched just beneath the skin— enslavement mark.
Haah…
A breath escaped Atreus like steam released from a kettle.
"Hah! What a surprise, youngest. You branded 'that' guy?"
Atreus asked as though trying to understand the logic behind Seven's action.
"Since when do you use slaves?"
"Card."
Seven said in a straightforward manner with his hand still outstretched and waiting for the compensation.
Atreus let go of Lythian's collar, only to see Lythian adjust his own collar, raised his bloodied head, and gave him a death stare.
He looked up first at Seven, then at Atreus.
"That hurt, fucker."
He planted a trembling hand against the floor, pushed himself up with effort, and wiped the red from his eyes with the back of his sleeve.
But before Lythian could so much as attack, Seven looked at him and the mark on his forehead burned white-hot and he staggered in pain.
"Urgh—gk!"
Atreus did not move. He simply raised a brow as he watched the scene unfold.
Creak.
Right after, the door creaked open, and Atreus stepped aside as he gestured for Seven to enter.
"Coffee? ...Or tea?"
"Zevi card."
"...?!"
Step.
Seven stepped inside.
Atreus paused for a moment as he looked towards Lythian who kneeled on the floor clutching his chest and groaning in pain.
But he said nothing.
Instead, he stepped past and entered the room, closing the door firmly behind him, leaving Lythian where he was.
Creak!
Now alone, Lythian cursed his chest even tightly, until the pain disappeared.
"I swear…"
Bang!
He slammed his fist against the wall as his breath came in ragged gasps.
"I fucking swear..."
He spat blood on the floor and looked straight into the door, as if he could see the inside.
"...That I will fucking kill you one day, Seven Hart."
***
In the Main Hart Duchy
At the far end of the corridor, Zach crouched low, hands gripping the edge of the wall as his eyes flicked between the door and the lone man standing outside it.
Beside him, Zack scratched aggressively at his neck.
"He's alive… he's alive…"
Zack shook his head over and over, as if trying to deny the words spilling from both their lips.
Each repetition grew louder until Zach peeked again and muttered one last time:
"He's alive."
Then, suddenly, Zach smiled. His expression softened, almost relieved.
After all, if Seven Hart was truly alive, they would not be punished or blamed for his death by the time the Archduke returned.
Yet, as quick as he smiled, he frowned at the thought of Atreus.
After all, they were the ones who reported Seven's death.
A dead person coming back to life… that alone was impossible. Unheard of. A dead man walking meant trouble, and Atreus would think they lied.
Atreus never tolerated liars.
To him, a lie was worse than failure.