Lor didnât look back, his bare feet carrying him to the rooftopâs edge, his wind magic coiling around him as he leapt into the night, soaring over Vaeloriaâs rooftops, the capitalâs spires fading behind him.
The manaâs echo lingered in his senses, but he pushed it down, his heart heavy with a concern he didnât want, his bed calling him back to the quiet of his room.
.
Kiaraâs icy blue eyes lingered on the spot Lor had occupied, her sharp face unreadable, her curvy frame swaying as she fought to stay upright.
The manaâs electric hum had faded, leaving only the distant clatter of a night cart and the faint flicker of capital lanterns.
She didnât hear the soft footsteps approaching until a shadow fell over her.
Her hand twitched toward the orb, her icy gaze snapping up, but she relaxedâmarginallyâwhen she recognized the figure.
Miss Silvia stepped into the moonlight, her posture shattered.
Her hair was loose, tangled with dirt, her glasses gone, revealing sharp, weary eyes.
Her simple home clothesâa loose linen blouse and skirtâwere torn at the sleeve and hem, stained with blood and grime, a deep bruise blooming across her cheek.
Her busty frame was battered, her steps uneven, but her gaze was steady as she surveyed the corpse, her lips pressing into a thin line.
"Itâs done," she said, her voice low, exhaustion weighing each word. "We need to move, Kiara. Before the mages pick up the trace."
Kiaraâs icy blue eyes flicked back to the empty space, her sharp face tightening, her full breasts rising with a shaky breath.
Silviaâs brow furrowed, her sharp eyes following Kiaraâs gaze to the shadowed alley corner.
"What are you looking at?" she asked, her tone clipped, suspicion creeping in as she stepped closer.
"Nothing," Kiara said, her voice flat, her icy demeanor snapping back like a shield.
She pushed herself to her feet, her curvy frame swaying, her injured arm limp, blood dripping from her wounds.
She didnât meet Silviaâs eyes, her sharp face a mask as she turned away, the torn fabric of her skirt swishing against her thighs, the black lace of her panties catching the faint light.
Silvia hesitated, her sharp eyes narrowing, but she said nothing, following Kiara into the darkness.
Their silhouettes melted into the alleyâs shadows, the night swallowing them as the capitalâs distant lanterns flickered, the echo of their footsteps lost in the quiet.
.
The next morning, Lor woke to the bright spill of sunlight through his window, the town of Vaeloria alive with the chirp of early birds and the distant clatter of market carts setting up.
He stretched on his creaking mattress, his lean frame loosening, his black hair a mess across his pillow, his hazel eyes blinking against the golden light.
The nightâs eventsâAmethâs ritual, Kiaraâs deadly spell in the alleyâlingered like a faint ache,.
He swung his legs over the bedâs edge, his bare feet hitting the cool wooden floor, and went to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face, the shock washing away the last dregs of sleep.
His reflection in the mirror showed his usual lazy grin, but his hazel eyes carried a shadow of unease about Kiara, quickly buried as he pulled on his academy uniform, the fabric loose but comfortable, his boots scuffing as he headed downstairs.
But soon, he noticed that something was wrong, unusual.
The familiar scent of his motherâs breakfastâwarm bread, herbed eggs, smoked fishâwas absent, replaced by the low murmur of voices, more than just his parentsâ.
Lorâs hazel eyes narrowed, his steps slowing as he climbed down the stairs and reached the dining roomâs open archway.
The usual clinking of plates and sizzle from the kitchen were gone, the air heavy with tension.
His father, Eren Vayne, sat at the worn oak table, his slender frame rigid, his dark hair streaked with gray, his weathered face set in a serious frown.
Across from him were three figures in deep indigo robes, silver trim glinting in the morning light, their faces stern, one bearing the High Mageâs crestâa coiled serpentâon his chest.
Lorâs mother, Mira, stood just outside the room, peeking through the archway, her black hair tied back in a loose bun, her apron still on, her warm eyes wide with worry, her hands twisting the fabric nervously.
Mira noticed Lor, her face softening with relief, and beckoned him closer with a quick gesture, her apron rustling.
Lor stepped to her side, his voice a whisper as he leaned in, his black hair falling into his eyes.
"Mom, whatâs going on?" he asked, his hazel eyes flicking to the robed figures, his senses sharp but detecting no active magicâjust a heavy, oppressive tension, like a storm held at bay.
Miraâs voice was low, her warm eyes darting to Eren, then back to Lor, her hands still twisting her apron.
"The High Mageâs right hand man was killed last night," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.
"Attacked in an alley near the noble quarter. Theyâre saying it was a witch, someone using forbidden magicâa pink mana orb, they think. And now..."
She paused, her eyes glistening, her voice dropping lower. "They want your father to take his place as the new right hand man."
Lorâs hazel eyes widened, his lazy grin vanishing completely, his lean frame tensing.
"Dad? The right hand man?" he whispered, his voice a bit loud with disbelief.
From what he knewâafter reincarnating into this worldâEren Vayne was a small-time businessman, running their family shop in Vaeloriaâs market district.
He traded herbs, fabrics, minor enchanted trinketsâdecent coin, enough for a comfortable but modest life, nothing lavish.
No hint of mage-level power, no whispers of a past other than what he showed.
Lor had never pried, never needed toâEren was just Dad, gruff but kind, always at the shop counting ledgers or home tinkering with minor charms.
But this?
Mages from the High Mageâs court in their dining room, asking him to step into a role of power?
What the fuck?
Lor thought, his mind racing.
Was his father a retired mage?
A hidden powerhouse whoâd walked away from the capitalâs games?
The questions burned, but the stern faces of the mages kept him silent.
Before he could press Mira for more, the lead mage, a gaunt man with a hawkish nose and cold gray eyes, leaned forward, his indigo robes rustling.
"Eren Vayne," he said, his voice clipped, authoritative, "the capital is under threat. Nobles have been dying for daysâtargeted, precise attacks. Last night, Xenge, the High Mageâs right hand, was killed by a rogue witch. We need your skills. Your... history with the court makes you the only one we trust to step in temporarily."
Erenâs weathered face remained calm, but his dark eyes flickered with something Lor couldnât readâresignation, maybe, or old ghosts stirring.
"I left that life behind," Eren said, his voice low but firm, his broad hands resting on the table, calloused from years of trade but steady. "Iâm a shopkeeper now. My familyâs here."
The mage with the crest leaned forward, his voice sharper.
"This isnât a request, Vayne. The High Mage insists. You know the noble quarterâs mages, the old spellcraft. You tracked rogues before. We need you to find this witch before she strikes again."
Miraâs hands tightened on her apron, her warm brown eyes glistening as she peeked from the archway.
Lorâs heart thudded, his hazel eyes flicking between his father and the mages, his mind spinning with the image of Kiara in the alley last nightâher bloodied frame, the pink mana orb, the corpse at her feet.
Will she come for my dad?
The thought sent a chill through him, but he pushed it down, his lazy facade cracking under the weight of the moment.
Eren sighed, his broad frame rising slowly, his tunic straining against his shoulders.
He stepped to Mira and Lor, his large hand resting on Lorâs shoulder, his grip warm but heavy.
"Mira, Lor," he said, his dark eyes meeting theirs, his voice steady but laced with reassurance.
"Thereâs nothing to worry about. Iâm joining them temporarily, just to track the culprit. Nobles dying, now Xengeâitâs a mess, but Iâll be safe. Iâll visit home, keep things normal."
He turned to Lor, his hand squeezing tighter.
"Take care of your mother, alright? Keep up with your studies. Iâll be back before you know it."
Lor nodded, his hazel eyes wide, his voice caught in his throat.
"Yeah, Dad," he managed, his black hair falling into his eyes, his lean frame tense.
Miraâs eyes glistened, her hands reaching for Erenâs, her voice a whisper.
"Be careful, Eren."
The mages stood, their robes rustling, the lead mage gesturing to the door.
"We leave now," he said, his gray eyes hard.
Eren gave Mira and Lor one last look, his weathered face softening, then followed the mages out, their indigo robes disappearing into the morning light, the door closing with a heavy thud.
Mira sank against the wall, her black hair loosening from its bun, her brown eyes staring at the door.
Lor stood frozen, his hazel eyes narrowed, his mind a storm of questionsâhis fatherâs hidden past, Kiaraâs next target.