Claude slid inside the carriage and let out a long sigh. He sagged into the plush seat, all of his energy drained.

Outside his window, Genise sprawled in silent shadows. The hazy glow of dim light stone street lanterns cast faint halos onto cobblestone streets while the dark buildings loomed with an ominous air.

Beletris entered quietly, settling across from him without a hint of exhaustion despite the late hour. Her gaze met his, piercing and assessing.

"Master Claude, how was your meeting with Micah?" she asked.

Claude chuckled.

"I thought he would kill me on the spot," he murmured.

He turned to gaze at the ghostly reflections in the window as the carriage began to roll forward.

Everyone in the room felt Micah's brief killing intent, and Marianna was more than happy to provide them with a private room of their own to chat—or kill one another if it came to it.

Claude had taken on quite a bit of risk, with unknown returns, by blackmailing Micah Frey.

He might have very well killed me if I hadn't mentioned having already recorded the insights for the next loop.

Claude ran his fingers over the fresh ink of his latest tattoo, which he had added beside the hasty scribbles of the previous loop. It detailed what Lady Agnese had revealed to him in return for something quite valuable in Claude's possession. The payment was ghastly if one thought of only this timeline, but it was rather cheap when assessing the value of being able to provide it to himself in future loops.

"Micah Frey is too calculating for that," Beletris countered, her eyes narrowing. "There would be immense damage if he attempted such a thing. Especially at a meeting with the other syndicate heads."

Claude rubbed his chin, his gaze shifting back to the passing buildings. They blurred by, dark shapes indistinguishable from one another in the thick of the night.

"I wonder about that…" he muttered, his mind replaying the events of that evening.

Micah's reaction was far more profound than anything even Claude expected. However, with the insight about why he and Luca had a falling out in the first place, it should have been expected.

"I blackmailed him, threatening to remind Luca why they had a falling out," Claude explained.

"So Lady Agnes did know." Beletris nodded, a satisfied expression on her face. She had suggested Claude speak with her in the first place, given Lady Agnes' far-reaching network of eyes and ears.

Had she any curiosity regarding what Claade found out, Beletris refrained from pressing further. Not that Claude intended to share it anyhow, having secured a mutually beneficial agreement with Micah that required that he keep his lips sealed.

Even if Luca was important to Claude for some still-to-be-understood reason, there was no reason to stir matters needlessly. Why bring up the dark past when there was a bright future to look forward to? In return for never speaking on the matter, Micah gave Claude his blessing to engage Luca in a mutually beneficial partnership.

Of course, what Micah did was far from negligible. Luca had every right to never speak to Micah ever again.

Perhaps it is Micah whom I ultimately need to protect Luca from?

Claude tapped the armrest of the carriage seat in thought.

If he had done to me what he had done to Luca… I wouldn't have just ignored him. I would have fucking killed him.

Claude felt his jaw tighten.

But Luca isn't me.

Claude sighed, relaxing his grip on the armrest, if only slightly. He didn't have any siblings himself, so the intricacies of such relationships were lost on him. Besides, if Luca was as valuable as Claude's tattoos and Micah made him out to be, Claude may have done the same in Micah's position had the roles been reversed.

"Shall I direct the driver to take the carriage to your new residence?" Beletris asked. Given that Micah knew about his home in the previous loop, Claude had her identify a new place for him to reside while in Genise.

"No," Claude replied. "My sleep schedule is already wrecked as is, and I have too much adrenaline to fall asleep properly. I'll catch up on my sleep mid-day."

"You could take something, you know—"

If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Claude waved off her recommendation. "You know I hate sleeping aids. Besides, I want to address the matter regarding Duke Hatis Maudel's misuse of syndicate personnel for personal reasons."

"Now?" Beletris raised a brow, her gaze looking out the window.

There were still several hours before the sun was to rise.

"Yes, now." Claude's brows furrowed. "There's no better time than the present."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

"Master Claude, if I could only understand what I did wrong…" Duke Hatis Maudel murmured, his gaze fixed warily on Claude, trying to grasp the purpose of this rare and disconcerting visit.

Claude sat across from him on a chair, one ankle casually propped over his knee, a report in hand as he thumbed slowly through it. Meanwhile, Duke Maudel had been kneeling on the hard, cold floor for several minutes, roused from a deep sleep and still clad in his blue nightgown and cap—a humbling state for one of his great stations.

The visit was unprecedented, a surprise he hadn't been prepared for, yet any lingering drowsiness had quickly evaporated. He could feel the weight of Claude's silence and the movement of paper. A simmering tension twisted in his gut the longer the minutes ticked by.

"You're coming up short," Claude said flatly, his finger tapping the report.

Duke Hatis Maudel closed his eyes as he processed the reason.

I knew I was coming in short, but I didn't expect such a fierce backlash.

He reopened his eyes and began explaining the lackluster mana yields, detailing the environmental challenges and fluctuations in resources. He had excellent explanations for why the numbers were what they were.

"Silence," Claude interrupted coldly. "You have Eldermyst Wood, Luminspire Grove, and Emberveil Moonshadow under your control. You have plenty of viable sources. Your reasons don't matter."

Duke Hatis Maudel winced. "Yes, but Eldermyst is needed for lumber and—"

"Then Emberveil Moonshadow it is," Claude replied, his tone unyielding. "It's nothing more than a summer retreat location, after all. Either yield it or find another solution. I don't care how you do it, but you will meet your quota. If not, then perhaps it's your own worth that needs reconsidering."

The duke swallowed, bowing his head. "Understood, Master Claude. I'll meet the mana requirements, one way or another."

"Good." Claude's gaze remained hard, appraising. "I'll expect regular updates."

Feeling as though the confrontation had finally eased, Duke Maudel shifted, tentatively beginning to rise.

"Did I say you could get up?" Claude's voice cut through the air.

The duke quickly lowered himself back to the cold floor, offering a weak excuse. "Ah, my apologies, just stretching."

He stared at the marble floor, suppressing a flare of resentment.

Just what is this unprecedented power trip? And at this forsaken hour?

He looked up to see Claude's expression darkened further.

"There's also the matter of your liberties with the Spider Syndicate's personnel," Claude's voice lowered a notch.

The duke blinked, confused as to what Claude was referring to. He had always utilized the members assigned to him as he pleased—the distinction of personal and business had never mattered before. So why now?

"I heard your nephew lost in a sword tournament against Luca Frey?" Claude continued.

"Er-yes. That was but a fluke—a misjudgment by the referee," Duke Hatis Maudel said, feeling his cheeks burn with indignation, reminded of the shame of that day and uncertain why the matter was being brought up. "But my nephew will come out on top in the next tournament."

Claude stared coldly at him.

"I wish your nephew the best of luck," Claude said, his voice frigid. "But diverting syndicate personnel and resources to poison Luca Frey due to a petty tournament grudge is a line you should never have crossed."

Duke Hatis Maudel stared at Claude, baffled.

What was the issue here?

He didn't understand. He had used syndicate forces countless times to avenge his family's honor. Why should this time be any different? He was exceptionally discreet even.

And why does he care what happens to that Frey runt? If the Freys were to disappear from this world, would that not be a cause for celebration? Besides, it's not as if I'd meant to kill him—just to set him back a bit. Nothing more.

"I understand," the duke managed out, though his tone was hollow, masking his confusion. "I'll be more mindful in the future."

Claude's expression grew darker. "To make it perfectly clear: if even a hair on Luca's head goes missing, and I so much as suspect your involvement, you'll pay with your life."

Duke Maudel nodded, muttering assurances he barely registered as though waking from a strange dream. Had he crossed into some twisted alternate reality? Was he actually still asleep?

However, the cold, hard floor beneath his aching knees confirmed that this was no dream.

Were we not supposed to be enemies of Micah Frey and, by extension, his bloodline? What in the world happened for his idiot younger brother to be granted such protection?

His face darkened.

Something had shifted within the scales of power. This was no mere matter of favor. No—I will investigate this further to understand what force had turned the tables.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

"Young master Micah, we've arrived." Selena opened the carriage door for him.

Micah stepped down, letting the crisp night air fill his lungs. He paused, glancing up at the vast, star-covered sky, a faint smile appearing on his lips.

Luca… just what did you do to drive Claude Noire to such desperation? Desperation enough to blackmail me just for a chance at forming a friendship of sorts?

He didn't care much for Claude Noire, but having the head of the Spider Syndicate being friendly toward Luca was far more beneficial than having him continue to be a thorn in his side.

"You look amused," came a low voice. Ridley had appeared soundlessly beside the carriage.

Micah arched a brow. "And you're unusually awake. What are you still doing here?"

Ridley chuckled, lifting a notebook. "I spent the night combing through the notes Luca left for Fin. I was somewhat concerned, but they were flawless—perfectly tailored to the boy's strengths and weaknesses." He hesitated, then looked at Micah with a serious expression. "By any chance, has he just been pretending to be an idiot this entire time?"

Micah's laughter rang out in the quiet night like chimes.

"Haven't I always said not to underestimate him?" Micah said with a glint in his eye. "You even knew his birth mother, did you not?"

Ridley clicked his tongue. "Yelena, yes. But having watched the boy grow, I assumed the apple had fallen far from the tree."

Micah's gaze returned to the stars, his expression softening as childhood memories of Yelena surfaced. "Perhaps," he murmured, "it simply took longer to see the resemblance than most expected."