Chapter 30: A provocation in the form of a letter.

[Days Before...]

"This arrived for you earlier today." Serafall said, pointing to the letter with an intact wax seal. "It seems to be from the Cross Family." she said with a sigh, remembering the recent chaos.

Victor looked at the letter while eating bloody meat and questioned, "Another legal action claiming we’re criminals? Doesn’t that qualify as harassment?"

Serafall, now putting on her boots, shrugged, "After the investigation, we became a target. Even though they can’t touch us, they want a lot of trouble to justify retaliation. Don’t even waste your time reading it, just throw it away and ignore it." She gave a small smile as she finished putting on her boots.

She tapped her foot to see if they would come off. Victor noticed and looked at her, "Are you going to come off?"

She nodded, "It seems that now that our name is active again, they want me in some places." she said and walked over to him, "Your grandmother and I will be busy for a few weeks." She said it and kissed the corner of his cheek, very close to his mouth, almost saying, "Not yet."

Victor felt it and nodded, sighing at her invasion of privacy. He was already getting used to this version of Serafall, different from the mother in his memories. Because he wasn’t sick, she was still being herself, the protective and obsessive mother, and now, more than ever, in love.

Serafall put her hands on her hips. "Take care of yourself, eat well, sleep on time, train what you need to train, and come back here every day. Repeat this until I return." She smiled.

"Yes, ma’am," he replied with a smile that made her melt and turn her face away quickly.

"Damn it, why be so handsome," she murmured mentally and left through the door.

Victor stared at the closed door for a few seconds.

The sound of Serafall’s footsteps faded down the hallway... and silence returned to the room. As soon as he saw that she was really gone, he looked directly at the letter on the table.

He stared at it for a few seconds... perfectly remembering what he had just heard. "Throw it away and ignore it."

Victor sighed... "...Yeah." A pause... "...Sure." He held out his hand.

CRACK.

The wax seal broke unceremoniously and opened the letter, his eyes began to scan the lines... he remained silent for a few seconds, no reaction.

"...Heh." A low sound escaped... Almost imperceptible... Then... "...Heh... heh..." His shoulders began to tremble slightly. "...Hah..."

And then—

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!" Victor began to laugh uncontrollably, very loudly, openly, without restraint.

A laugh completely out of place for someone who was reading what should have been a formal threat.

He bent slightly forward, cupping his face in his hand as he laughed like someone who had just heard the most absurd joke in the world.

The paper trembled between his fingers.

"No... it’s not possible..." he murmured amidst laughter.

"They... they really did that?"

The air in the room shifted slightly.

Two small shadows appeared near the window.

Flap. Flap.

Two bats.

They flew close to Victor... and mid-movement... They dissolved... The small, dark shape lengthened, grew... taking on human form.

Carmilla appeared first.

Scarlett appeared soon after.

Arms crossed, already with a habitually irritated expression.

The two looked at Victor.

He was still laughing.

Scarlett raised an eyebrow. "...Okay, I missed something," she said.

Carmilla tilted her head slightly, observing. "...That doesn’t sound like a worried reaction," he commented calmly.

Victor held up the letter.

Still laughing.

"You... you need to read this."

Scarlett rolled her eyes. "If it’s more boring bureaucracy I—"

Victor tossed the letter to her.

She caught it in mid-air. "—I won’t even—"

Her eyes began to read.

One line.

Two.

Three.

...

Silence.

Scarlett stood still.

Completely motionless.

Carmilla, curious, approached and looked over her shoulder.

Her red eyes scanned the text calmly.

Unlike Scarlett...

She didn’t freeze.

But a small smile slowly began to form on her lips.

Scarlett lowered the letter slowly.

"...They didn’t do it," she murmured.

Victor laughed again. "They did."

Scarlett turned the paper over to him. "Is this serious?"

Victor wiped away a tear from laughing so hard. "Official."

Carmilla let out a small, low laugh.

"...Oh... this is delicious," she said.

Scarlett looked between the two of them.

"...Does anyone want to explain to me why this is funny?"

Victor took a deep breath.

Trying to calm down.

But still with a completely absurd smile on his face.

"They challenged me."

Short pause.

Scarlett blinked.

"...Challenged?"

Victor opened his arms slightly.

"A formal duel."

Silence.

Scarlett stared at him.

"...You’re kidding."

Victor shook his head.

"No."

He pointed to the letter.

"They want to settle this... on the basis of honor."

Carmilla brought her hand to her lips, clearly amused.

"After everything that’s happened..." she murmured.

"...they chose this?"

Scarlett ran a hand over her face.

"...They’re idiots."

Victor gave another short laugh.

"Proud idiots."

He looked at the letter again.

His eyes gleaming with interest.

"...And completely desperate."

Carmilla crossed her arms.

"Who?" she asked.

Victor answered immediately:

"Ethan Cross."

Silence fell for a second.

Scarlett smiled slowly.

Dangerously.

"Ah..." she said.

"...this will be fun."

Carmilla just tilted her head.

Watching Victor.

"...And you?" she asked softly. "Will you accept?"

Victor didn’t answer immediately.

He stared at the letter for a few more seconds.

The smile was still there.

But now...

More controlled.

Colder.

Sharper.

Then he folded the paper slowly.

"...Of course I will."

He looked up.

His red eyes carried a clear intention.

"...They asked for it."

...

[Official headquarters of the Cross Family.]

The air in the Cross Family territory was heavy.

Not figuratively.

There was something dense there—as if the walls themselves carried the weight of generations of pride... and unforgiven mistakes.

The patriarch’s office was at the highest point of the property.

Isolated.

Silent.

Untouchable.

The door closed with a dry sound.

Clack.

Inside—

The light was low.

Candles.

Long shadows stretched across the dark wooden walls.

Behind a wide table... a figure stood.

Back turned.

Momentary.

His presence dominated the room in a suffocating way.

There was no need for a face.

Nor for expression.

That... was absolute authority.

Before the table—

Ethan Cross was kneeling.

Head bowed.

Hands clenched.

Sweat trickled down the side of his face.

The silence dragged on for a few seconds.

Too long.

Until—

"You sent it."

The voice came low.

Controlled.

Unhurried.

But laden with something that made the air vibrate.

It wasn’t a question.

Ethan swallowed hard.

"...Yes, sir."

Silence.

One step.

Slow.

Measured.

The sound echoed off the wooden floor.

The patriarch didn’t turn around.

But the pressure increased.

As if the mere fact of his thinking was enough to crush someone.

"...A duel."

Another pause.

"Formal."

Ethan clenched his fists tighter.

"...Yes."

One more step.

Closer.

Still with his back turned.

"Do you understand... what this means?"

Ethan hesitated.

For a second.

Mistake.

The air grew heavy.

He answered quickly:

"...Yes, sir."

Silence.

Then—

A laugh.

Low.

Short.

Without any humor.

"...No."

The word fell like a blade.

The patriarch stopped.

Right behind the desk.

"You think you understand." His hand rested on the surface of the wood.

His fingers tapped lightly.

Tok.

Tok.

Tok.

Each sound seemed like a warning.

"You didn’t ask for a duel."

Another tap.

"You didn’t make a gesture of honor."

Yet another.

"You didn’t make a strategic decision."

Silence.

Heavy.

Then—

"You gambled with your life."

Ethan felt his body freeze.

The sweat turned cold.

The voice continued—

Calm.

Cold.

Relentless.

"...And our reputation."

The patriarch tilted his head slightly.

Still with his back turned.

"If you win..."

Pause.

"...you clear the Cross Family name."

Another pause.

A longer one.

More dense.

"...If you lose..."

Ethan stopped breathing for a moment.

"...I’ll use your head as a toilet."

Absolute silence.

No sound.

Not even breathing.

"...While you’re still alive."

The world seemed to stop.

Ethan felt his stomach churn.

But he didn’t dare move.

He didn’t dare speak.

He didn’t even dare look up.

The voice came for the last time—

Low.

Almost a whisper.

But infinitely heavier than any scream.

"...So..."

A final pause.

"...you’d better not waste this chance."

Silence.

Complete.

The patriarch removed his hand from the table.

And walked away.

Slow steps.

Walking away.

Never showing his face.

Never looking directly at Ethan.

Clack.

The door opened.

And closed.

Ethan remained on his knees.

Momentary.

His body trembling slightly.

His fingers digging into the floor.

His eyes wide.

Heavy breathing.

Unsteady.

But then—

Slowly...

Very slowly...

A smile began to appear on his lips.

Unsteady.

Forced.

But present.

"...Heh..."

A low sound escaped.

Almost nervous.

Almost broken.

But there was something there.

Something dangerous.

Something obsessive.

He raised his face.

His eyes heavy with tension...

And a distorted flame.

"...I will win."

Silence.

"...I need to win."

His fingers gripped the ground even tighter.

As if clinging to reality itself.

"...Because if I don’t win..."

His smile widened.

Crooked.

Almost insane.

"...I won’t die."

A pause.

His breath faltered.

"...I’ll wish I were dead."

The room remained silent.

But something had changed.

The duel... had already begun.

And it wasn’t just Victor who was having fun.