Jimson Snake had disappeared for two full days without a trace. No one in Lucian's estate knew where he had gone—not even Lucian asked. But this morning, Jimson reappeared at the training grounds as if nothing had ever happened—calm, composed, and so cold that even the air around him seemed to chill in his presence.
He stood there—in the middle of the wide courtyard, black coat fluttering gently in the wind, his gaze lost in some faraway void.
—"Jimson!"
A voice called out from behind. Aaron had just stepped in and immediately spotted that familiar figure. He rushed forward like a puppy spotting its owner returning home.
Jimson heard it, but didn't turn right away. He slowly shifted his gaze, arms crossed, expressionless, eyes like still ice.
Aaron stopped in front of him, flashing a bright smile.
—"Hey… You vanished for days without a word. Now you're back and don't even say hi?"
Jimson looked at Aaron for a moment, his gaze sweeping across Aaron's face without the slightest ripple of emotion.
—"Are we that close?"
The voice was low and firm, devoid of any warmth or concern.
Aaron scratched his head, but his goofy grin didn't fade:
—"Then I'll greet you first, just to be polite. Welcome back to the training grounds, scary instructor."
Jimson didn't respond. The corner of his mouth twitched—an expression so subtle it was impossible to tell if it was a smirk or just a ghost of a smile. It disappeared as quickly as it came.
—"Cold as Lucian…" Aaron muttered under his breath, not expecting it to be heard.
—"I'm better looking than him."
The reply was short, sharp, and came with an unblinking stare.
Aaron blinked, stunned for a second, then burst into laughter:
—"That's true. You're even prettier than me. Pretty in a… weird kind of way. But still pretty."
Jimson said nothing, but this time his eyes shifted slightly—as if evaluating Aaron. He didn't seem displeased.
Aaron went on:
—"With you gone, I trained with Lucian and nearly died. He didn't say anything, but the air around him was like… heavy. Like he was mad for you or something."
Jimson narrowed his eyes, hands tucked into his pockets as he took a slow step toward the training area.
—"The fact you're still alive is a miracle."
—"You mean Lucian?"
—"Me."
Aaron gulped. But still trotted after him, unfazed:
—"That… sounded dangerous. But if you really killed me, Lucian would be pissed. He may act cold, but he really cares about me."
Jimson didn't reply. He just kept walking.
After a while, he stopped and glanced sideways at Aaron, who was walking beside him.
—"Aren't you afraid of me?"
Aaron tilted his head slightly, blinking.
—"Of course I am. But you're not the scary kind with malice. You're more like… scary cold. And cold things are usually pretty."
This time, Jimson stopped completely. He stood still for a moment, then said the familiar words in a voice as firm as steel:
—"We can begin now."
Aaron nodded obediently and ran to the marked position, ready for training.
But deep down, something inside him stirred.
There was a strange feeling—like Jimson Snake had changed.
Even if just a little.
———————————————————
The sun was shining brightly today. Morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the dining table where Raphael and Lyra sat enjoying breakfast together. There were no phone calls demanding work, no piles of documents—just a rare day of leisure at home for the both of them.
Raphael poured more tea for Lyra, his gaze as gentle as still water.
-"Let's visit Mother this afternoon. It's been a while since I last saw her."
Lyra paused slightly, her chopsticks halting mid-air before she slowly set them down. For a brief moment, a flicker of something unreadable crossed her face, but she quickly regained her calm composure.
-"Alright. I'll prepare a few gifts. She'll be happy."
Raphael gave a small nod, his expression softening as if a weight had been lifted from his chest.
They continued breakfast in a quiet, cozy atmosphere. Lyra chatted casually, sharing bits and pieces about the nearby flower shop or a book she hadn't finished reading, while Raphael listened attentively, occasionally nodding or offering a soft smile.
After the meal, Lyra excused herself to go out for a bit.
-"I'll stop by the bakery and the tea shop. There are a few things your mother likes—I remember them well."
-"Okay. Be careful." Raphael said, holding his teacup as his eyes followed her figure putting on a coat and stepping outside.
The door closed gently behind her. And once again, the house was filled only with the soft whisper of wind drifting through the curtains.
———————————————————
At noon, sunlight filtered through the frosted glass windows, but it wasn't enough to chase away the coldness that lingered inside Lucian's vast office. The ticking of the wall clock echoed steadily, blending with the soft rustle of turning pages—a silence so heavy no one dared approach while the master of the room was working.
Suddenly, the door burst open without a single knock.
Lucian's brows furrowed instantly, his icy gaze slicing toward the door with unmistakable irritation. In his world, no one entered his private space unannounced.
But within seconds, the annoyance faded, replaced by his usual cold composure as he saw the one who stepped in—it was none other than Aaron.
Aaron trudged in, his face lifeless, dragging his feet across the floor before flopping onto the guest sofa like a child who had just lost their favorite toy.
-"Lucian…" Aaron drawled his name in a tired tone.
-"I thought you had training today." Lucian's voice remained as cold as ever, not sounding surprised nor distant. His eyes stayed fixed on the documents—seemingly indifferent, yet clearly waiting for more.
-"Jimson disappeared…" Aaron sighed, throwing an arm over his forehead, eyes staring at the ceiling as if the whole world had turned its back on him.
Lucian paused. He looked up, eyes darkening.
-"Disappeared?"
Just one word, but a thread of suspicion had already crept into his voice. Jimson Snake had never abandoned a task—not even a minor one. Vanishing mid-training was not something he would do lightly.
-"I don't know. He was in the middle of teaching me, then got a call. His expression changed, and he told me to keep training on my own. Then he left. No explanation at all." Aaron's voice dropped, full of disappointment. "I even practiced my shooting to impress him… I hit eight out of ten shots!"
Lucian rose from behind his desk and walked over to the sofa, where Aaron lay pouting like a kitten left in the rain. He sat down beside him and casually lifted Aaron's head to rest on his lap.
-"Atropa brought you back?"
-"Yeah. Said Jimson told him to. That guy really does listen to him, huh." Aaron sulked, reaching up to brush a few stray strands of hair from Lucian's forehead. "I thought I'd get to learn about poisons today. He promised. Said if I did well, he'd teach me…"
Lucian didn't respond right away. He pulled out his phone, fingers gliding across the screen as he typed a short command. His eyes, cold and calculating, scanned for ripples in the underground currents he controlled.
Jimson wasn't someone to be "interrupted" by emotions or personal issues. If he had left so abruptly, it could only mean something had struck a nerve—something buried deep within. Or perhaps… a ghost from his past that even Lucian had yet to uncover.
A breeze drifted in through the window, making the curtains flutter slightly—an ominous sign, like a warning whispered through the wind. The air in the room grew heavier, thick with unspoken tension. Lucian quietly pulled up the last recorded location of Jimson. The area… was outside the permitted boundaries.
His grip tightened around the phone.
Aaron, oblivious, sighed and murmured:
-"If I could learn how to use poisons, I'd really be worthy of being your successor, right, Lucian? Jimson's the only one who can teach me that…"
Lucian didn't reply. He stared out the window, eyes growing a shade colder. Inside his mind, the pieces began aligning—like a chessboard preparing for its first move.
And Jimson… was the most unpredictable piece on the board.
———————————————————
In front of a small house nestled beneath a row of trees, the white-painted window frames and a blooming bougainvillea trellis cast gentle shadows under the afternoon sun. Though modest, the place exuded an unusual warmth, as if someone had lovingly tended to every corner, keeping it neat and alive.
Raphael's car pulled up quietly in front of the gate. Lyra stepped out, holding a small gift basket—filled with her mother-in-law's favorite treats, carefully chosen earlier that morning.
— "You go on in first. I'll park the car and follow." Raphael said, his voice calm and deep as always.
— "Alright." Lyra gave a faint smile before turning toward the gate.
She pressed the doorbell. Once. Then again. She waited longer, but no one came.
Her head tilted slightly, puzzled. She gave the wooden gate a gentle push—it creaked open. It wasn't locked. A faint unease brushed against her like wind grazing her shoulder, barely noticeable, but enough to make her hesitate before stepping onto the threshold.
— "Mom…?" she called softly, stepping onto the porch. No response.
Inside, the house was eerily quiet. Too quiet. No sound from the TV, no footsteps, no clatter of kitchenware. The house wasn't dark, but it seemed to lack the rhythm of life.
Lyra moved slowly down the hallway, her eyes passing over the familiar family photos on the wall—still exactly where they were the last time she visited.
A faint clatter came from the kitchen. Lyra froze. She swallowed hard, her fingers tightening instinctively around the handle of the gift basket.
Then from that direction, a faint scent… earthy, musty, something unfamiliar and unsettling.
She stepped closer. Her hands trembled slightly. One second later, as she gently pushed the kitchen door—
— "Aaaaaaa!!!…"
EndofChapter19.