Chapter 410: Homecoming... To No Home? [I]

Vereshia kept staring at me wordlessly.

The sympathetic softness in her gaze melted into silent curiosity.

She tilted her head, her silver hair falling to the side and catching the light. "Why not? You just spent the last ten minutes crying about wanting a vacation and a smoothie. This is your exit ramp, Samael. Take it."

"Because," I started, my voice losing its whiny edge as I straightened my posture, "if I let Thalia win, she’s the one who has to lead my family’s army on your fleets into the

Iron Height

. And I know my sister. She’s brilliant and talented, but her survival instincts are worse than those of a suicidal lemming. Also... a death prophecy has been made about her. If she goes into that war, she will die."

A frown stole over Vereshia’s face. She looked like she couldn’t understand something. "And?"

"...Hmm?"

"I mean, so what if she dies? Isn’t she your direct rival in the race of succession? Once she’s gone, you’ll be the next Duke of Luxara. And as far as I know, there is no sibling bond between you two that’s worth going into a war for."

My mouth hung open as I searched for an answer that would make sense. When I couldn’t, I did what I always did to avoid confrontation.

I let out a dry bark of a laugh. "Here I thought I was the one with the reputation for being a cold-hearted bastard. Have you been hanging around the High Nobles much lately, Lady Vereshia?"

Vereshia’s response was to keep those ruby eyes locked on mine, waiting for a logical answer.

I gave up, continuing. "You’re right. There is no bond between my sister and me. We don’t have family dinners. We don’t share secrets. Our relationship consists mostly of cold stares and unsaid threats. If she died tomorrow, the only thing I’d have to worry about is whether black is my best color for the funeral."

A fine eyebrow rose on her forehead. "But?"

Again, I found myself at a loss for words.

How do I even explain it to someone who doesn’t have a twin?

I can see the look on

your

face too. Even you don’t seem to understand. And that’s fair. So, I’ll tell you. I’ll try to make you understand by telling you about an incident I couldn’t tell Vereshia back then.

It was maybe a few months after Thalia had Awakened. My training with Father had long since stopped. She was declared the official heir to the High Seat of Luxara.

The next Duchess of our golden lineage.

As such, she was riding high on confidence, being that same smug little brat I remembered her being. I hated her.

Why wouldn’t I? She used to bully and beat and berate me at every chance she got.

One day, when I’d had enough, I struck back. It didn’t hurt her as much as it hurt her ego. That night, she stole my phone and deleted the progress in one of my favorite games.

Childish, I know. But to a kid who had nothing else, it was war. I tried cornering her in the library, ready to actually throw hands. I didn’t care if she was Awakened and I was not, I just wanted to land one good hit.

Unfortunately, I was stopped by her Shadow long before I could even get within her line of sight to disturb her study session.

Her Shadow was a boy around a year older than us. Even at that young age, he was tall and broad, built like a miniature tank. Seriously, I never got to know what his diet plan was.

Because I’m not exaggerating. I swear to you, that kid had bulging muscles! Muscles! A kid! Even his thumbs had biceps!

Anyway, I tried shoving past him. Failed. I tried kicking his shins. Also failed. It was like kicking a marble pillar.

Now, because he was so big and I was so small, I don’t know if it was intentional or not, but he pushed me aside when I annoyed him too much.

When he did that, he exerted a little more strength than necessary. I remember tripping and hitting my face on the edge of a table. When I came to my senses a few hours later, I was in my bed with a black eye.

Waking up, the first news I heard was that Thalia had killed her

Shadow

.

Yeah. According to what the servants and workers told me, she didn’t even use the Bloodworm. She did it with her own two hands.

The Elders were rightfully angry with her. That boy was an

SS

-rank prospect. He would’ve served the family well.

When asked why she did it, she said,

"He touched my brother."

The Elders didn’t like that excuse, obviously. But she didn’t care.

Then the next day, she went back to bullying and beating and berating me.

Don’t get me wrong, though. I never found this story endearing. It was chilling and psychopathic, if anything.

Who kills someone over a black eye?

Still... I never knew what to make of her.

I hated my sister.

But I didn’t

always

hate her.

There was a time when she used to follow me around like a baby duckling, always grabbing onto the hem of my shirt, sticking close and trying to copy whatever I did.

I don’t even know what went wrong. Or when it went wrong.

After our mother died, I went into a crippling depression. It only worsened when my father chose Thalia over me for his throne.

At some point, she started changing. Her behavior grew colder and colder toward me. Eventually, I also started returning her energy.

But even then, I never ignored how she still always tried to copy me.

Any shows or movies or books I used to pick up, she did too. Any hobby I started, she’d somehow find a reason to master it better than me.

Even when I told her I had stopped smoking, she threw her own cigarette away, deciding she’d quit as well.

I never brought it up to her face, even though I could easily have used it as a jab against her. But maybe I was scared she’d stop doing it.

It’s like we were two stars caught in the same binary system — constantly trying to pull away, but fundamentally unwilling to exist without the other’s gravity.

I hated my sister. But I hated her

like

a sister.

How do I explain all that emotional nonsense to someone without sounding dumber than I was?

I had no idea. So I didn’t.

In answer to Vereshia’s question, I just threw her a soft shrug. "She’s my sister. A shitty, undependable, borderline crazy sister. But she’s still my twin. Also, she’s the only one who understands just how insufferable our father really is. If she dies, I’d be left alone with him in the room. I’d really hate that."

Besides, her dying right now would serve no purpose to me in any way. Thalia was both talented

and

strong. If cultivated right, she could be an asset until I decided to discard her.

I could think of much better uses for her, much greater causes for her to die in, than some minor war over a shady relic.

Not to mention, if I didn’t agree to my father’s demand, he had threatened to kill Juli. And while I didn’t think he would make good on his threat, I did not really want to test him.

Vereshia didn’t look entirely convinced, but the sharp edge of her scrutiny blunted.

"I can’t say I understand you. But if you want to fight to reclaim your title, then I won’t stop you," she interlaced her fingers and rested her chin on top of them. "I’d much rather aid

you

in war than your sister if I’m being forced into it anyway."

Around us, the Council members had stopped pretending to work, their heads tilted just enough to catch the hush of our conversation.

"So, do you want a wildcard entry in the final round of the tournament? If you do, just know that to make it fair and interesting, we’ll have to adjust the final round into something grand. Like a battle royale."

Of course.

I was thoughtful for a second, then I grinned. "Or you can just let Thalia win it. If she does, which I’m sure she will, you can arrange that mock war between us that she demanded of me before our midterm exams. Set it up as a main event of this entire thing."

Not to pat my own back, but it was a genius suggestion.

Let me tell you why.

Thalia had requested that Vereshia keep the tournament going, specifically so I wouldn’t interfere with it midway.

If I entered as a wildcard and won, she’d immediately cry foul — claiming it wasn’t a fair victory since I skipped every other round. Knowing her, she’d then demand we settle it through that mock war she’d already challenged me to before midterms.

In that case, I’d end up fighting twice — once in the battle royale and again in the mock war. I couldn’t refuse the latter either, since it was a pre-existing challenge I had a duty to answer.

But if I let the tournament play out, let her claim the title of Ace, and

then

challenged her, I’d only have to do the heavy lifting once.

She wouldn’t be able to argue much either, because

she

was the one who demanded the mock war in the first place. It would only be fair that I answered her on the exact terms she’d set.

Almost every first-year would jump at the chance to participate in this event war too as it would give those eliminated early in the tournament a second shot at the spotlight. And who doesn’t want more exposure?

Even the strong candidates who made it far but lost in the later rounds would have a bone to pick with the winner of the tournament.

They wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to soothe their bruised egos and prove their worth in front of all the major Hunter agencies watching.

It was

the

perfect setup.

Vereshia’s lips slowly curled up into a knowing grin that I knew mirrored my own. I could see bright flickers of amusement dancing in her eyes and practically hear the ideas jumping around in her head.

The returning

’deceased’

Ace versus the newly crowned Queen of the First-Years. Total clan-war simulation with open betting and global broadcast.

Plus a sibling-vs-sibling contest between two High Nobles!

For someone who claimed to hate work, I might’ve just handed her the most profitable event in the recent history of this Academy.

"You truly are a piece of work, Lord Theosbane," she whispered conspiratorially.

"Why thank you, Lady Morrigan," I echoed in the same tone.

Vereshia huffed a laugh and grabbed a fresh comms-unit, barking orders at her subordinates. "Tell the sponsors we’re changing the structure! The new Ace at the end of the last round will meet a final challenger. The true title match happens ninety-six hours after the last round!"

I began walking toward the door, feeling remarkably proud of myself.