12:21 a.m.
The boxing club was still buzzing with noise, energy crackling through the air like static despite the fact it was less than three hours from closing.
In the ring, the fights raged on, and the crowd's cheers never seemed to tire. Their enthusiasm made it seem like the show would never lose its charm.
Still, despite the ongoing excitement, a noticeable number of people had started to leave the building.
Ronan and Kyle remained on the second floor, chatting—and growing more familiar by the minute. Their conversation flowed naturally, as if they'd known each other far longer than just tonight.
Since his fight against Leandro, Ronan hadn't stepped into the ring again. Not because he couldn't—but because, strangely, he felt stronger just by talking with Kyle.
If every member of House Ashbourne thinks like this... he thought. He could hardly imagine the chaos if they were all in one room—talking, analyzing, and challenging one another in multi-layered conversations.
That was a terrifyingly beautiful thought.
Taking the last sip of his drink, Ronan stood up. "I think I'll head out. It's late, and I've got school tomorrow. I don't want to be a zombie in class," he said.
Kyle nodded and stood up as well. "Tonight… it's been unusual, hasn't it? You gained something major. So did I—though maybe in a different form. Perspective. And that's because of you, Ronan."
Ronan returned the smile. "Me too. Seriously, it would've been a great loss if I didn't come tonight. I'm glad I followed my instinct."
Kyle nodded again and patted Ronan's shoulder. "You've got my contact now. Let's set that earlier offer aside. Let us be, brothers from another mother. How does that sound?"
"Sounds good to me," Ronan said with a nod, a grin touching his lips.
"Great. Now you've got someone to rely on. If you need help, just call me. But…" His expression turned serious. "I won't interfere over petty teenage drama. I think you're smart enough to understand that."
"I more than understand," Ronan replied calmly. "And I appreciate it."
A new connection—and not just any connection—a young master of House Ashbourne. One of the ancient families of the Albion Empire. This wasn't just a shift. It was a massive turning point in his life.
"All right, I still have to meet someone. You go on ahead," Kyle said.
Ronan nodded, and with a final exchange of goodbyes, they parted ways.
—
Ronan walked calmly through the still-boisterous crowd, their cheers echoing behind him as he finally stepped outside the boxing club.
Cold wind brushed against his face, bringing a sharp contrast to the heat and noise inside. He had already called a cab—just needed to wait.
But before his mind could wander elsewhere, a plump man approached him. Dressed casually, with a smile that—oddly—felt a little too friendly for this time of night.
Ronan raised an eyebrow. He didn't recognize the man, but it was clear the guy was heading straight toward him. Two suited men stood a few paces behind.
"Who are you?" Ronan asked, his tone calm but lined with cautious edge.
The man smiled warmly. "No need to be so tense. Name's Edward Sturden," he said, extending a hand.
Ronan accepted the handshake—brief, but firm. "Ronan Raylinde."
"Ronan. Easy name to remember," Edward said as he let go. "I saw you earlier with Young Master Kyle. You two seemed close. Is there a... certain relationship there?"
Ronan paused. His eyes scanned the surroundings in a heartbeat—two bodyguards, one overly friendly man, and not a single crack in their posture. Everything about this screamed calculated.
A small smile appeared on his lips. Now he knew where this was headed.
"Yeah," he replied, "You could say we're brothers from different mothers."
Edward's smile widened as if he'd just won a bet. "Hahaha! I thought so. I was on the second floor too, not far from you both. And seeing the way Young Master Kyle looked at you—the way he spoke—it wasn't hard to guess."
Ronan nodded casually. His expression calm, his thoughts far from it. So, you've been watching us. Just how much did you see, Edward? And more importantly—what do you want?
"So... what's this about?" he asked, steering the conversation toward its real purpose.
Edward grinned, clearly waiting for that question. "I simply wanted to offer... a token of friendship," he said, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring.
Ronan's eyes narrowed slightly.
The ring—black metal with a subtle gleam—looked ordinary to the untrained eye. But tiny runes and geometric etchings whispered another truth.
Ronan's gaze shifted. A spatial ring.
"20×20 square meters," Edward said casually, like it was no big deal. "Very rare. And expensive, of course. But in my opinion... you're someone worthy of it, Ronan."
Ronan looked at the ring, then slowly took it. It felt weightless in his hand, yet the implications it carried could crush a lesser man.
"For me?" he asked, though his mind had already raced past that question.
"Yes, of course. Like I said, take it as a symbol of our friendship," Edward replied with his signature smile. "Oh—and inside it, there's a VIP pass to my auction house, the Red Emerald Auction. You can attend as a VIP guest using that card."
Ronan gave a wide smile, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of the ring. He almost regretted how naturally that smile came out.
Clever move. Embedding an invitation inside the artifact. Tying two symbols of power into one gift. Not just giving—but crafting obligation.
And of course, Ronan knew the price of a basic spatial ring—about $100,000 for just a single square meter. This? Twenty. And not just linear value—the price grew exponentially with size. Not due to the materials, but sheer rarity.
"You're... unexpectedly generous, Mr. Edward," he said smoothly. "We should have dinner sometime. I'll bring Kyle. He won't say no if I'm the one asking."
Edward's grin spread wider. "Hahaha! You're very thoughtful, Ronan. I like you a lot. No wonder Young Master Kyle sees you as a brother."
Ronan replied with a small nod. Too easy to fool bootlickers like this. But behind every fake smile and extravagant gift, there was always an agenda. And sometimes, those agendas could become shortcuts to the top—if you were sharp enough to tread carefully.
He recalled the words of that mysterious man he met at the House of Wisdom two days ago—sometimes clichés don't look like clichés... until you're trapped in one.
And maybe, this was the kind of moment that would change everything.
At that moment, a cab pulled up nearby.
"Ah, there's my ride," Ronan said with a polite nod. "It's been a pleasure, Mr. Edward."
But before he could take a step, Edward's hand stopped him gently.
"No, no, no. Tonight, let my men take you home," Edward said, slipping an arm over Ronan's shoulder and guiding him away. "In a vehicle more fitting for someone like you."
Ronan glanced back at the cab, a flicker of guilt surfacing—but before it could settle, one of the suited men handed the driver a thick wad of cash.
Problem solved before it even began.
"I may not know you well yet, Ronan, but just this once—let my people take care of you."
Edward's generosity continued to bombard him—each labeled as a "token of friendship."
In the end, after a brief conversation, Ronan left the boxing club in a sleek, luxury vehicle, courtesy of Edward's men.
Inside, Ronan couldn't stop smiling, his fingers gently brushing the spatial ring now adorning his right hand.
Something he'd dreamed of owning for so long—now his. And not just any ring—one with twenty by twenty square meters of space. Far beyond anything he had hoped for. And the best part? Free.
He sank into the plush seat, a wide, satisfied grin spreading across his face.
Tonight felt like a cascade of blessings—one after another, unexpected and almost too generous. He really ought to thank Reiner for setting all of this in motion.