[Evelyn POV – One Week Ago]
It had been a week since she'd given Caelen the freedom to execute his little plan. A week of waiting. A week of testing. A week of failure.
"So," Evelyn asked without looking up from her seat, "was that one successful?"
The woman standing at her desk, Silver, her long-serving assistant — shook her head once.
"No, Mistress. It didn't respond. Just like the others."
Silver placed the small object on the darkwood table. The seed. Caelen's so-called prize.
Evelyn sighed softly, not out of exhaustion but out of measured irritation. She picked up the seed, rolling it between her fingers. Still the ssme as Caelen left. Still glowing with a slight red glow. Still useless.
"Magical items, potions, direct mana contact… Nothing." She clicked her tongue. "I even tried smearing it with blood too. No reaction."
"It may still be viable," Silver offered gently. "Some rare species and plants take years to awaken. The Desmire tree takes decades to bear its first fruit, according to the current heir."
"I don't have decades," Evelyn snapped. Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried a clean, quiet pressure. She turned the seed over in her hand like it had insulted her. "The fact that it hasn't responded to anything pissed me off."
Silver tilted her head. "Or perhaps we do not have enough to go with when dealing with it, Mistress."
That earned a glance from Evelyn. Not a hostile one, but a lingering look of someone weighing whether to cut through the smoke or let it cloud the air.
"I thought tinkering with it might give me an edge," Evelyn muttered. "Even if it didn't hatch, I could at least learn something. But this… thing hasn't even cracked."
She stood and paced slowly to the window. The light hit the violet tint of her eyes just enough to make her look almost serene — but the tap of her nails against the glass betrayed her mood.
"He said it would be useful," she said, almost to herself. "Not directly. He didn't promise anything… But he let me believe it."
"Mistress…"
"I know," Evelyn said, brushing her hand through her hair. "It was my mistake. I let him speak just enough and fill in the rest myself. Clever boy."
Silver didn't respond. She rarely did when Evelyn's pride was simmering.
Evelyn turned back toward the desk. "So what do you think I should do? Follow his plan, see where it leads? Or kill him now before he leads me off a cliff?"
Silver gave a thoughtful pause before speaking. "I've not spoken to him directly much, but... is he arrogant, maybe. But Mistress, I don't think he will play with his life that carelessly."
Evelyn scoffed lightly, but the sound lacked venom. That's what concerns me. People with that kind of mindset tend to become unpredictable."
"Which is why I suggest patience," Silver said. "Let his plan unfold. Stay close. Watch. If it bears fruit — good. If it doesn't… well. He'll be in reach and you will own him and his abilities."
Evelyn placed the seed back on the table. Her fingers lingered longer than necessary before pulling away.
"Alright," she said finally. "I'll play his game. For now."
She sat back down, sliding a sealed black notebook across the table. "Take this. It's the manual he wrote. Deliver it where he asked. Then observe. Report back once anything starts changing."
Silver bowed her head. "Yes, Mistress."
Evelyn reached for her glass of wine, swirling it idly. "Let's see if the boy's gamble holds more weight than my instinct."
She didn't say it out loud, but the thought echoed nonetheless:I don't like being led like this, but I want to believe in this.
And yet, something about Caelen made her hesitate to dismiss him entirely.
Silver left without another word, notebook and seed in hand.
[Lucille POV, Present Day]
It took Lucy the better part of a day to finally reach her family estate. Once she crossed into the city, a sleek black car was already waiting for her — no doubt arranged the moment her father was alerted. The driver didn't speak, and Lucy didn't care for small talk.
By the time she stepped out of the vehicle, dusk was settling.
The Desmire estate stood before her — a sprawling structure built into a terraced mountain face, its design a powerful blend of feudal samurai architecture and clean modern elements. Black tiled roofs curved upward at the edges, flanked by modern solar panels hidden within the structure's wooden aesthetic. Broad walkways were lined with cherry trees that shimmered under carefully placed enchantments, and the walls were reinforced with spell-forged alloys that could stop artillery.
The estate wasn't just a home. It was a fortress, a monument, a training ground — and, above all, a symbol of tradition.
Lucy passed the outer grounds where warriors — mostly older men — were in synchronized motion, wielding spears, swords, and bows. Their form was elegant, but Lucy didn't slow down. She'd trained there once. She had nothing left to prove.
She walked deeper into the estate, passing through multiple guarded checkpoints until she reached the inner sanctum — the central living quarters of the Desmire bloodline. The guards knelt as she entered, acknowledging her as the heir. She ignored them.
Her father's office was just as she remembered. Cold. Clean. Silent.
He was sitting behind a wide stone desk, dressed in white training robes lined with silver thread, sleeves folded neatly, his posture straight as a blade. His black hair was tied tightly behind him, and those piercing green eyes, the same shade as hers rose to meet her when she stepped in.
"You've finally arrived," he said, voice level and unreadable. "Why didn't you call ahead?"
Lucy shrugged. "Didn't think it mattered."
Her father didn't press. He only set down his pen and stood. "Your brother found something while you were away. He's been waiting to show you."
Of course he did, she thought.
Drex, two years her junior had always struggled to step out of her shadow. He praised their father like a deity, trained tirelessly, and looked for any excuse to be useful. She didn't hate him. But she pitied him.
They walked together to the core quarters the innermost ring of the estate, where only direct blood members resided. The rest of the Desmires lived in the outer circles, forming a literal and symbolic ring around the seat of power.
In the main lounge, Drex stood nervously with a cloth bag in his arms. The moment he spotted them, he straightened and walked over quickly, bowing with reverence.
"Father. Sister." His voice cracked slightly. "I've found something some kind of artifact. Two, actually."
"Let's see it," their father said, already intrigued.
Drex opened the bag and pulled out a worn, leather-bound book and a small glass sphere. The book was old and warped, its cover partially torn. The glass sphere shimmered faintly, something pulsing inside.
Their father took the book first. His expression tightened as he flipped through the pages. "Demonic script," he muttered. "You were right to bring this."
Lucy, who had been silent until now, stepped closer. Her eyes scanned the cover page, confirming what she already suspected. It was demon language — written fluently.
"A demon wrote this?" their father asked aloud, then turned a page. "The Tree…?"
He read further in silence, eyes darting quickly over the lines. Then, softly, he chuckled.
"Incredible."
Drex looked elated. "Is it good?"
"It might be the beginning of a new era," their father said, setting the book down. "Well done, Drex."
Lucy's brows furrowed. Something didn't feel right to her. Her father picked up the glass sphere and crushed it easily in his palm, letting the shards fall to the floor. Inside, a dark, seed-like object dropped into his hand.
He held it for a moment and smiled.
"This energy… it's familiar." He looked at them both. "The sacred tree passed down through our bloodline? Our ancestors never told us its origin, only that it strengthened us. This… this is its source."
He held the seed up. "Our tree grants those who eat its fruit a powerful body if they can endure it. But the fruits take decades to grow. This seed, however, could be planted today. If it thrives… the Desmire family will stand at the peak once more."
The heavy air in the Desmire lounge did little to ease Lucy's tension as her father turned the seed over in his palm. Its black surface shimmered with faint pulses, like a heartbeat. Her brother Drex stood proudly nearby, basking in their father's approval.
"This is it," her father said, almost reverently. "The origin. The very thing our family has been cultivating unknowingly for generations."
He looked at them both, but his eyes lingered longer on Lucy.
"You know what our sacred tree does. It strengthens the body—if you survive this seed's fruit. Regeneration, endurance, stamina. But the fruits… they exact a toll, which you can only use the power with your life force."
Lucy narrowed her eyes. "Years of life for one fruit. That's not strength. That's a trade."
He smirked faintly. "You always think in terms of fairness, daughter. Life doesn't."
"I'm saying it's not worth it," she shot back. "Why live like a weapon just to die faster?"
Drex, eager to weigh in, added, "But Father, didn't Grandfather say the fruit was the foundation of our line's success?"
"He said many things," the father replied. "But even he didn't know the seed's origin. Now we do."
Lucy folded her arms. "So what? You want to grow more cursed trees?"
"No." His voice lowered, serious. "I want to give my children the choice my ancestors didn't have."
He raised the seed slightly between his fingers.
"There are two paths, Lucy. One — the fruit. Safer, but you'll bleed years for it. Strength with a ticking clock."
He paused.
"The other — bear the seed's power directly. Risk your life. Endure its weight. But if you survive… your children will carry that same power. And theirs after them."
Lucy's expression darkened. "You're talking about bloodline tampering. You want me to become something like a weapon now?."
"I want you to ascend past the limits that have held us back for centuries."
"And if I say no?"
Her father walked closer, pressing the seed into her hand.
"Then don't interfere when we choose to grow."
Lucy stared at the seed. It was warm. Alive. Like it knew.
"You're doing this again," she said, voice quieter now. "Pushing legacy over people."
He sighed. "No. I'm giving you the burden because I trust you can carry it."
She said nothing, her fingers tightening around the seed.
"You're my heir, Lucy. Your brother may carry our name, but you're the one I see when I think of our future. You don't need to eat it. Not yet. But understand what this means."
Her father stepped back. "The fruit costs years because it takes what you are to repair what's broken. The seed doesn't ask. Maybe It just becomes you."
Lucy placed the seed on the table and pushed it gently back toward him.
"I'm not ready at least not right now."
He nodded. Not angry. Just accepting.
"You sound like your mother. She thought like that, too."
That stung.
Lucy didn't wait for more. She turned and left the room, saying nothing even 30 minutes passing.
Drex looked confused. "Isn't this the opportunity we've been waiting for?"
Their father didn't answer immediately. He turned back to the table and gazed at the book, deep in thought.
Elsewhere — Caelen's Room
A quiet ping echoed through the space. Caelen looked up from his screen, confused. He hadn't been playing anything for the last ten minutes.
Then the glowing red text appeared.
[MISSION COMPLETE: Primordial Vessel]
"Reward Unlocked: Demon Energy Control Mastery — Tier 1."
Caelen's eyes narrowed.
"…What the hell just happened?"
Another ping followed.
[Congratulations on obtaining a Primordial Wrathful Lust Demon Servant]
His breath hitched.
"…Lucy?"