Lorian leaned back slightly with a faint smile playing on his lips, though it didn't reach his eyes.

"It's simple, really. You're going to help me keep an eye on Ethan. I want to know everything he does, every move he makes. And if he so much as breathes in a way that I don't like, you'll report it to me immediately."

Luca's eyes widened as the realization of what they were being asked to do hit him like a cold wave.

"You want us to spy on him?"

"Yes," Lorian said smoothly and confidently. "You've already shown you're capable of watching him. Now, you'll just be doing it under my orders."

Derek, who had remained silent for most of the conversation, finally spoke up. "And if we don't?"

Lorian's smile faded with his face turning icy. "Then you'll find yourselves in a box just like Darius, only without the luxury of being dead first."

The sharp and undeniable threat hung in the air. Tomas, Luca, and Derek exchanged glances with the last remnants of their resistance crumbling under the weight of Lorian's words.

They knew they had no choice.

Lorian watched them with barely concealed satisfaction. "Good. Now, get out of my sight. And remember, I'm always watching."

The three men stood. Their movements were stiff as they hurried out of the office with the door closing behind them with a finality that left no room for doubt.

Lorian remained seated with his thoughts already turning to the next step in his plan. He had set the trap, and now all he had to do was wait for Ethan to make his move.

Once the door clicked shut, Lorian allowed himself a moment of stillness.

The office, now empty and quiet, seemed to pulse with the residual tension from the confrontation.

He glanced at the wooden box on his desk. Its grim contents were a reminder of the lengths he was willing to go to maintain control.

Lorian stood, walking to the window that overlooked the courtyard of the Ironbrand Guild. The early morning light was just beginning to pierce the sky, casting long shadows across the cobblestones below.

His eyes narrowed as he thought of Ethan—the unpredictable variable that had entered his well-ordered world.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Ethan was different from the other adventurers who passed through Hallowford. He was more than just a problem to be dealt with; he was a threat that needed to be carefully managed.

Lorian knew that brute force alone wouldn't be enough to handle people like him. No, this required something more subtle, more insidious.

As he stared out into the distance, Lorian's mind whirred with possibilities.

The game had begun, and he was determined to stay several steps ahead. He had set the pieces on the board, and now it was time to watch how they moved.

Lorian turned back to his desk as his gaze settled once more on the wooden box.

He would keep it as a reminder to himself—and to anyone who dared challenge his authority—of what happened when people underestimated him.

The guild would soon be in his control, and he would ensure that Ethan, like all the others, learned that lesson the hard way.

A slow, calculated smile spread across Lorian's face as he sat back down with his fingers steepled in front of him.

He was ready for whatever came next.

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[POV Shift]

I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling as the darkness pressed in around me.

Sleep was elusive, my mind too busy with thoughts that wouldn't settle.

The weight of my discovery gnawed at me—knowing that the body I now inhabited was killed by those bullies, the same ones who walked free under the Ironbrand Guild's protection.

It didn't feel like my burden to carry.

This wasn't my original life, and the idea of revenge felt distant, almost foreign.

But the anger simmered beneath the surface, a low boil that wouldn't be ignored.

The thought of letting them get away with it made my stomach twist, yet the idea of seeking vengeance in a life that wasn't mine felt... wrong.

Restless, I shifted in bed, kicking off the covers.

The room was quiet, save for the faint creaking of the inn as it settled for the night. I couldn't stay here, trapped in my thoughts. I needed air, something to clear my mind.

I pushed myself out of bed. The cold wooden floor sent a shiver up my spine.

Pacing the small room, I tried to untangle the knot of thoughts in my head. Each step only seemed to tighten it further.

These bullies had killed the person whose body I now inhabited, but that person's life and memories were a mystery to me.

All I had were the facts—cold, hard, and undeniable.

The injustice burned within me, even though the pain wasn't truly mine.

Yet, how could I ignore it?

I couldn't shake the feeling that, somehow, this had become my burden to bear.

The idea of confronting those responsible felt necessary, like a step I had to take to solidify my place in this world.

But it also felt absurd.

I didn't know these people.

I didn't share their past, their pain, or their fear.

Yet, the anger was real, and it was mine now.

Letting them get away with it seemed wrong, like I'd be failing not just myself, but the person who had once lived in this body.

I stopped near the window, staring out at the darkened town.

The thought of doing nothing made my skin crawl.

But taking action?

That carried its own risks—risks I wasn't sure I was ready to face.

What if I failed?

What if it only made things worse?