Trafalgar walked the long corridor beside Caelum, the echo of their footsteps bouncing against the cold stone. At the end of the hall, the massive double doors loomed—behind them, his family waited.
His jaw tightened. 'The first dinner, I stayed quiet. Back then, I didn't care about what the old Trafalgar felt. But now… it's different. Everything has piled up like a snowball rolling downhill. And sooner or later, it has to crash.'
His eyes darkened. Seraphine. Rivena. Maeron. The three names that festered in his mind like poison.
'Maeron… one day. One day, I'll carve your name into the list of the dead myself. Roland's words still ring clear—you're the one who did that to Mayla. And I promised her they'd all pay. Every last one of them. Not yet… but the time will come.'
He clenched his fist, but quickly forced his expression back to neutral. He knew the rules here. Any misstep meant death. For now, survival came first—growth, strength, allies, pawns. Revenge would wait.
