Jin would never be his father... He wasnât one who looked at his surviving son and saw not grief but utility. Who calculated the political implications of murder before considering the human cost. Whoâd already moved on from Jeanâs death because dwelling on it didnât increase the familyâs power or position.
Jin remembered Jeanâs laugh, loud and confident. Jean teaching him to fight, patient even when Jin fumbled. Jean defending him from their fatherâs worst criticism, taking blame for mistakes that werenât his. Jean, whoâd been arrogant and entitled and everything a noble heir should be, but whoâd also been his
brother
... And maybe even a better âfatherâ than his useless, absent true one.
And Jin was going to get justice.
The tiger inside him growled, sensing his resolve.
Or maybe Jin was growling and the tiger was just agreeing.
The line had blurred, smudged by the pills and rage and obsession until Jin couldnât tell which thoughts were human and which were predatory instinct.
It didnât matter anymore.
They both wanted the same thing.
Ren Patinderâs death.
And today, in these tunnels where accidents happened and bodies could be blamed on beasts or bad luck or the chaos of competition...
Today, Jin would finally get what heâd been denied for 4 years.
Justice.
Revenge.
Peace.
The word echoed in his mind like a prayer. Like salvation from...
Every time his father looked at him and Jin could see the thought written clear as text:
Youâre not Jean. Youâll never be Jean. Why couldnât it have been you instead?
Jin remembered the nights when Jean returned from missions, bringing stories of battle and glory. Jean striding through the mansion doors with that confident swagger, dirt still on his uniform, blood sometimes, never his own, staining the edges of his sleeves. The younger servants scattering to prepare his bath, the older ones nodding with respect. Their father actually
smiling
, rare and precious as gold, as Jean recounted victories.
And Jin, always Jin, hovering at the edges. Listening... Desperately trying to memorize every word because Jean made time seem to slow down, made the world feel bigger and more exciting just by existing in it.
He remembered the promise.
"When I lead House Strahlfang, youâll be at my side as my right hand. Together weâll make our family great."
The words had been said casually, like stating obvious fact rather than making a vow. Jean sprawled on the practice field grass after a sparring session, sweat cooling on both their faces, the sky that particular shade of purple-orange that came right before sunset.
"You really mean that?"
Jin had asked, trying to keep the desperate hope out of his voice.
"Of course."
Jean had turned his head, grinning with the certainty of someone whoâd never truly failed at anything that mattered.
"Who else would I trust to watch my back? Father? Heâd stab me himself if it advanced the house position. The cousins? Theyâd sell their own mothers for a promotion. But you... Youâre loyal. Thatâs worth more than raw talent."
Those words had become Jinâs anchor. His purpose. The promise of a future where heâd matter, where his existence would mean something beyond being "the spare heir".
All those promises.
All those dreams.
Ended by a peasant with mushrooms in his hair.
No.
The denial was automatic, visceral, the same as it had been every day for 4 years.
It couldnât be real. Couldnât have happened that way. Jean was too skilled, too careful, too
alive
to be killed by some nobody from nowhere with a beast so pathetic the academy had debated even allowing it.
But reality didnât care about Jinâs denial.
Jean was dead.
And Ren Patinder had killed him.
Jin had searched for alternatives. Had investigated in secret, talking to the men whoâd served under Jean, the ones who actually knew him and respected him beyond his position as heir.
Most declined politely.
Too risky...
Too politically complicated. They had families to think about, positions to protect.
But some...
Some had looked at Jin with eyes that understood exactly what he was really asking.
And theyâd said yes.
The veteran who Jean had saved during a horde attack. A grizzled man with scars across half his face and a limp that never quite healed right.
"I owe him my life," heâd said simply, no hesitation. "If you need help avenging the boy, count me in."
The scout whoâd mentored Jean personally. A woman in her forties with the lean, weathered look of someone whoâd spent more time in wilderness than civilization.
"He was like a son to me." Her voice had cracked slightly. "More family than my own blood ever was. Tell me what you need."
Six others. Each with their own story, their debt, their reason for risking everything for the memory of Jean Strahlfang.
Or who were simply devoted idiots loyal to Jin and House Strahlfang, too caught up in house pride to question whether what they were doing was justice or just murder dressed in noble language.
Jin preferred not to examine that distinction too closely...
The plan had taken months of careful preparation.
Being in different academies had made coordinating anything a logistical nightmare. Messages sent through intermediaries. Meetings held only on vacations and in neutral territory where their respective academiesâ surveillance wouldnât catch them.
Of the five groups pursuing Ren here, only three were actually part of his plan.
The others were just opportunists, noblesâ children whoâd heard about rewards for sabotaging certain teams and decided to try their luck. But ultimately unreliable.
His three groups werenât particularly skilled either. Not even the best in their respective classes. Just majority Strahlfang students who understood house loyalty and wouldnât ask uncomfortable questions about methods or legality.
One of his groups, the "
Pursuing Group B
" heâd managed to recruit, had been so clumsy theyâd gotten stuck in the underground tunnels, they had to help the tutor get them out...
But it didnât matter now.
The stars had aligned.
First: Getting a Strahlfang assigned as Renâs group watcher to feed them information.
The opportunistic noblesâ connections had been useful for that at least. A few bribes in the right places, a few suggestions about "ensuring fair observation", and suddenly a Strahalfang had been selected for the assignment.
Perfect positioning. Perfect information flow.
Second: Waiting for the perfect moment.
An exam where Ren would be outside the academy, away from Selphiraâs omnipresent protection, in dangerous territory where accidents were common and expected. Where a studentâs death could be blamed on beasts or bad luck or the inherent risks of gathering dangerous resources.
This fifth-year exam and Ren coming to Yino was ideal. The weaver forests provided perfect cover.
Third: The rewards.
The nobles who hated Ren... and there were
many
, accumulated over years of him outshining their children and exposing their cultivation methods as inferior, had been surprisingly generous with their sabotage offers.
Enormous sums...
Promises of future refuge and protection. Political favors worth fortunes.