The rain had not stopped.
Kael Draven walked through the dim corridors of the manor, his footsteps soft against the stone floor. Behind him, the undead assassin followed in silence—its presence almost indistinguishable from the shadows.
Anyone who saw it would think it was just another servant.
If they looked closely…
They would already be dead.
Kael's lips curved faintly.
"Hide yourself," he said without turning.
The undead halted, then stepped back—its form melting into the darkness as if it had never existed.
Good.
Very good.
Kael continued forward.
The manor was quiet at this hour, but not asleep. It never truly slept. Behind closed doors, schemes were always being woven, alliances formed, betrayals planned.
Including his.
He returned to his room.
The table was still there.
The poisoned wine untouched.
Kael stared at it for a moment before sitting down.
"Let's see what you show me next," he murmured.
[Daily Intelligence System Ready]
A faint pause.
Then—
[Intelligence Acquired]
[Your personal maid, Lira, will report your survival to your stepbrother within the hour]
Kael's fingers stilled.
Then he laughed.
Softly.
Amused.
"Of course."
Lira.
His personal maid for the past three years.
Quiet. Efficient. Unremarkable.
Loyal.
Or so he thought.
Kael leaned back in his chair, eyes half-lidded.
"Within the hour…"
That meant she didn't know yet.
Which meant—
He still had control.
A knock came at the door.
Gentle.
Careful.
"My lord?" a soft voice called. "Are you awake?"
Right on time.
Kael's smile deepened.
"Come in."
The door opened slowly.
A young woman stepped inside, her expression calm, her posture respectful. Long dark hair, simple uniform, lowered gaze.
Perfectly normal.
Perfectly harmless.
Perfectly placed.
"My lord," Lira said, bowing slightly. "I noticed the lights were still on. I came to check if you needed anything."
Kael watched her.
Every movement.
Every breath.
Looking for cracks.
There were none.
Impressive.
"I was just about to drink," Kael said casually, gesturing toward the wine. "Care to join me?"
For the first time—
A flicker.
So small most wouldn't notice.
But Kael did.
A moment of hesitation.
Gone in an instant.
"I… wouldn't dare, my lord," she said softly.
Of course she wouldn't.
Kael picked up the glass.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Lira's eyes followed it.
Just for a second.
"Strange," Kael said lightly. "You seem nervous."
"I—"
"Relax," he interrupted, smiling. "It's just wine."
He raised the glass.
Closer to his lips.
Closer.
Closer—
"Wait!"
The word slipped out before she could stop it.
Silence fell.
Heavy.
Suffocating.
Kael lowered the glass.
Slowly.
His gaze met hers.
Sharp.
Cold.
Knowing.
"…There it is," he said quietly.
Lira froze.
Her mind raced.
Too fast.
Too late.
Kael set the glass down.
Untouched.
"Tell me," he said calmly, "how long have you been reporting to him?"
No anger.
No shouting.
Just a simple question.
That was worse.
"I don't know what you mean, my lord—"
"Don't."
The single word cut through her like a blade.
Kael's eyes darkened.
"You hesitated. You panicked. You revealed yourself."
He leaned forward slightly.
"Now answer me properly."
Lira's composure cracked.
Just a little.
But enough.
"…Two years," she whispered.
Kael blinked once.
Then nodded.
"Efficient."
Two years.
That meant everything he had done, everything he had said—
All of it had been watched.
Reported.
Used.
"And tonight?" he asked.
"…I was told to confirm your death."
Of course.
Kael chuckled softly.
"Then you have a problem."
Lira's head snapped up.
"You see," Kael continued, voice almost amused, "I'm not dead."
A presence moved behind her.
Silent.
Unseen.
Lira stiffened.
Instinct screamed.
Danger.
Too late.
A cold hand closed around her throat.
She gasped—
But no sound came out.
The undead assassin emerged from the shadows, its empty eyes staring down at her.
Unfeeling.
Unmoving.
Unstoppable.
Lira struggled, her hands clawing at the grip.
"W-Wait—!"
Kael raised a hand.
The undead stopped.
Silence.
Kael stood and walked toward her.
Slowly.
Each step echoing in the room.
"You have two choices," he said calmly.
He stopped in front of her.
"Die here."
A pause.
"Or work for me."
Lira's eyes widened.
Shock.
Confusion.
Hope.
Kael smiled faintly.
"Choose carefully."
The grip on her throat tightened slightly.
Just enough to remind her—
This wasn't a negotiation.
Seconds passed.
Heavy.
Endless.
Then—
"I'll… serve you," she choked out.
Kael studied her.
Long.
Carefully.
Then he nodded.
"Good."
He lowered his hand.
The undead released her instantly.
Lira collapsed to the floor, gasping for air.
Alive.
Barely.
Kael turned away.
Returning to the table.
To the poisoned wine.
"From now on," he said calmly, "you report to me."
Lira bowed her head, trembling.
"…Yes, my lord."
Kael picked up the glass again.
This time, he didn't bring it to his lips.
He simply stared at it.
"Prepare a message," he continued. "Tell my dear stepbrother that I drank it."
Lira froze.
"…My lord?"
Kael's smile was faint.
Cold.
"Let him believe I'm dead."
He set the glass down.
Untouched.
"After all…"
His eyes gleamed.
"The dead are much more dangerous."
Outside, the storm raged on.
Inside—
The game had begun.
[End of Chapter 3]