Two weeks had passed since that first fragile bridge formed between father and daughter.
The dinners continued, unfailingly punctual. And though silence still sat between them like a third guest, it was no longer absolute. Caelum had begun to ask simple questions—gentle inquiries about her day. In turn, Nadia answered.
Not with warmth, nor ease, but with words. One-word replies. Short sentences. Enough to prove she was listening. Enough to show she did not mind.
That, in itself, was progress.
Now, morning light filtered through the arched windows of her chamber's bathing room. It was early. Quiet. Still.
Steam curled in lazy spirals along the edges of the mirror as Nadia stood before it—undressed and alone—her gaze steady, unflinching. She examined the figure staring back at her, as if looking at someone else entirely.
Her body had changed.
Gone was the emaciated girl who once woke on a hospital bed, every rib visible, her skin dull and papery. Now, her form was lean but no longer fragile—slim, sculpted by nature rather than strength.
She had no defined muscles, no imposing stature, but there was balance to her frame. Her cheeks were no longer hollow, but softly full, flushed with the healthy pink of life.
From a distance, one might call her ethereal—an otherworldly beauty, delicate yet distant, like a painting too perfect to touch. Skin pale as moonlight, hair cascading like starlight, and eyes cold enough to stop time.
She was no longer merely alive. She was life.
But Nadia felt none of that.
She saw the body for what it was—a vessel. Improved, perhaps. No longer sick. But not yet strong.
A soft ding echoed inside her mind, cool and unmistakable.
[Objective Complete: Strengthen your body with muscle mass and increase your stamina by two fold]
[Objective Reward: +500 En Absorbed]
[Current Active Chrome Energy: 2,704 En]
[Level 7 Reached– 996 to Level 8]
Nadia felt a warm energy sinking into her veins. It was much more tamed and subtle than her last experience.
"Well done." The system chimed in afterwards.
"The path ahead is still long." Nadia responded, her voice devoid of emotions.
"It's still a step forward. No matter how small, each of these steps will lead you where you want to be. You've worked hard."
The system wanted her to acknowledge her own efforts. Nadia didn't find it displeasing and a rare smile touched her lips.
"I see."
Another line of glowing text slid into view, hovering neatly in her peripheral vision.
[New Objective Assigned:
Locate and gain entry to the Chrome Vault within the estate grounds.
Reward: Active Ability– Falsification]
Nadia tilted her head, a single droplet of water rolling down her collarbone.
This objective had already come up in their past discussions. Over the last two weeks, Nadia had discovered something about the system—it was bound by the laws of cause and effect.
It wanted to help her, but only when she had earned it. Be it chrome energy or new abilities, she had to create the cause.
In a way, that limitation reassured her.
She would not be satisfied with success handed out to her on a silver platter.
Nadia reached for her towel, wrapping it around herself in one smooth motion. The mirror fogged further as she turned away.
That evening, the dining hall once again bathed in warm, amber glow. The flame orbs hovering above flickered gently, casting soft shadows across the obsidian table. Silverware clinked quietly as servants moved about in silence, elegantly laying down course after course.
As with every night for the past two weeks, Caelum sat at one end of the table, his posture formal yet softened by habit. Across from him, Nadia ate in silence, her etiquette steadily improving with each passing meal.
He didn't rush conversation. He never did. But eventually, as he always did now, Caelum spoke—his voice quiet, carefully restrained.
"How was your day?"
Nadia didn't look up from her plate. "Peaceful."
Just one word again. But for him, that was enough. He nodded, a faint curve of satisfaction touching the edges of his mouth.
Dinner continued in silence. A light soup course, followed by spiced lamb with sweetroot mash. A subtle lull came just before the dessert—a space where no words were expected.
That was when Nadia lifted her gaze.
"I need to ask you something."
The room froze.
Even the servants, trained to maintain absolute composure, faltered for half a second—fingers pausing over a wine bottle or tray.
Caelum's head jerked up, the motion sharp but not startled. His scarlet eyes widened before softening in astonishment. He straightened slightly in his seat.
"You can ask me anything," he said, too quickly. There was eagerness in his tone—raw, unfiltered, almost boyish.
Nadia had expected it, anticipated this reaction down to its smallest detail. Two weeks of watching him, of learning his expressions, his tone, the way his gaze softened around her and only her—she had studied him as much as he watched her.
Usually, he was a figure carved from stone—rigid, unreadable, commanding. But in front of her, that marble cracked. He became human. Vulnerable.
That vulnerability overwhelmed her more than she cared to admit.
Nadia hesitated. For a moment, she considered dropping it altogether. But she couldn't afford sentiment. She had a mission.
"I want to explore the chrome vault," she said, steady and quiet.
Silence fell like a blade.
Across the table, Caelum blinked once. It wasn't alarm that crossed his face—more like confusion, followed by a slow ripple of caution.
"The chrome vault?" He echoed. "How do you know about that place?"
His voice remained level, but Nadia didn't miss the shift in his eyes. Alert. Guarded. She could see the wheels turning behind his gaze—calculating.
It was an unusual request, and she knew it.
The chrome vault was not a casual facility. It was a fortified tomb spanning several sublevels beneath the estate grounds, housing hundreds of thousands—perhaps even millions—of different grades of raw chrome cores collected from dungeons and raids by the Argyros-employed Guardians.
Unprocessed and volatile, the energy each of them contained was enough to level entire blocks if handled improperly.
It wasn't a place one wandered into out of curiosity, a restricted area even for her.
"I heard about it," Nadia replied simply.
Caelum leaned back, fingers tapping rhythmically on the table. He studied her. She didn't shift under his gaze.
He wondered—was it really a passing mention from a careless servant? Or had she been listening more than anyone realized?
"And why would you want to go there?"
Caelum's gaze lingered on her longer than usual.
Nadia Argyros was not simply a curious child.
That much had become clear over the past two weeks.
He had watched her, quietly, through layers of observation—his own eyes, the estate's surveillance, and the subtle reports from trusted staff who were instructed to observe but never interfere. What he saw—and what they reported—confounded even him.
Since her first visit to the library, she had returned almost daily, sometimes staying for hours at a time. The pattern of her research wasn't random. It was methodical. Precise.
She moved through the knowledge archives like a seasoned strategist—touching on everything from the basics of chrome energy manipulation to complex rune interfaces, Guardian history, estate law, etiquette, politics, and regional geopolitics.
One report noted she had spent an entire afternoon simply memorizing planetary leyline maps.
She was absorbing knowledge at a rate that would have caused cognitive burnout in most untrained minds.
More than once, Caelum had prepared himself to intervene—to impose a limit or enforce a cooling-off period, as was standard protocol when civilians overindulged in chrome-bound data.
But… she never showed symptoms.
Nadia didn't answer right away.
She gently toyed with a piece of steamed seaweed using the edge of her fork. Her lashes lowered slightly, casting a faint shadow over her expression.
Then she looked up.
"I can't tell you that," she said, evenly.
No attempt at deceit. No elaborate excuse. Just the truth.
A cold, measured refusal.
Caelum stilled.
For a moment, his expression didn't shift—locked in place like sculpted marble. But the silence that followed was suffocating.
Nadia watched him carefully.
She could've lied. Given a rehearsed answer about curiosity, or wanting to learn more about the estate. But she knew it wouldn't work. He wouldn't believe her—and worse, he might feel insulted by the lie.
No. It was better this way.
By stating the truth—that she didn't trust him—she revealed a crack in her armor. Not vulnerability, but opportunity.
If he truly wanted to earn her trust… wouldn't he take that bait?
And just as she calculated, she saw it happen.
The change in him.
Caelum's shoulders tensed—his jaw clenched faintly as if suppressing an instinct to demand more. His fingers curled tightly around the edge of the table, a rare show of unease for a man who controlled armies.
She saw the conflict rise in his eyes.
She was asking him to grant her access to one of the most dangerous chambers in the entire estate—while making it clear she didn't trust him enough to say why.
And yet…
To Caelum, it wasn't a rejection. It was a test. A window. A chance.
Her refusal wasn't just a barrier—it was an invitation.
Several minutes passed. The final course—a slice of key lime pie topped with chilled cream and a dust of spice—was placed quietly in front of each of them and left untouched.
The silence was loud and nearly suffocating.
Finally, Caelum let out a slow, controlled breath.
"You may go," he said.
Nadia blinked once.
"But," he continued, "you won't go alone. I will accompany you," Caelum said, voice still tight. "And so will Edgard."
Nadia was surprised. Not at the condition—but at the ease with which he agreed.
She had prepared for resistance. For repeated denials. She had even anticipated the need to press him night after night, drawing on his longing until he caved.
But he gave in immediately.
She had underestimated how far he was willing to go for her.
Nadia lowered her gaze again, stabbing a small piece of the classic dessert with her fork, though she didn't eat it.
"…Thank you," she said softly.
And Caelum, for the first time that evening, allowed himself a small, fragile smile.
The next morning, Nadia stood before another full-length mirror—in her dressing room this time—her eyes trailing across the unfamiliar reflection staring back.
Gone was the flowing dress, the delicate silks and embroidered lace. In their place were sleek black trousers tailored to her frame, and a snow-white cashmere top that clung just enough to hint at femininity while remaining clean and efficient.
The sleeves ended at her shoulders, leaving her pale arms bare—but the black silk gloves that stretched to her elbows restored a sense of elegance and restraint.
The contrast was striking.
A quiet rustle behind her signaled the maids finishing their final touches.
"Lady Nadia," one of them explained gently, "the entire outfit has been treated with anti-chrome filaments. It neutralizes passive chrome flow—so even if you brush against a raw core, it won't affect you."
Nadia blinked at the unexpected detail and, for once, listened closely as the maid continued to list the protective properties of the fabrics, the chrome-resistant threading, and the enchanted stitching hidden in the hemline.
Normally, she let such chatter drift past her. But not today.
Today, she memorized every word.
Her silver hair had been styled up for the first time—swept into a neat bun that exposed the delicate line of her neck. The shift gave her a new silhouette: sharper, older, more self-possessed.
When they were done, one of the maids gave a courteous bow and slipped out to notify her escort.
Just minutes later, a knock resounded in the room—polite and practiced.
The door opened to reveal Edgard Vael.
He was dressed formally as always, though slightly less ornate than usual. His dark brown hair was slicked back with crisp precision, his sky-blue eyes bright with pleasant recognition.
With the demeanor he carried himself, the man appeared as mature as one in his late-thirties, however from the whispers of his admirers, she knew he was still a couple years away from hitting thirty.
The fact that such a young man had risen to the position of an Overlord's aide was a clear indication to his capabilities.
"Lady Nadia," he greeted, bowing low with a hand over his chest.
Nadia responded with a small tilt of her head.
She had met him several times now—on that first day at the estate, on the walkways during her strolls, during the occasional moments of overlap with her father.
He had always been respectful, courteous, unflinching.
And yet…
Every now and then, when he thought she wasn't paying attention, she would feel it: a flicker of something cold. The way his eyes would linger a moment too long. The faint sense of being assessed—not as a person, but as a puzzle, a calculation.
She wasn't afraid of him.
She was cautious.
If Caelum had sent only Edgard to accompany her to the warehouse, she might have had a better chance to test him. To poke and observe. But Caelum had chosen to come himself.
So whatever Edgard's role was, Nadia would have to bide her time.
"Shall we?" Edgard asked smoothly, stepping aside to allow her through.
She walked past him in silence, her heels soft against the polished floor. He fell into pace beside her, and as they began making their way down the vast corridors of the estate, he did something unexpected.
He started talking.
"How was your sleep?"
Nadia glanced at him. "Fine."
"Did you have breakfast?"
"Yes."
"I heard you've been spending a lot of time in the library. Gaining wisdom already, Lady Nadia?"
"Maybe."
"Do you like the staff assigned to you? The maids treat you well, I hope."
"They do."
Edgard smiled, and not in mockery. He seemed genuinely pleased by each brief reply, as if building rapport with her were some kind of subtle game.
She had never pegged him as a talkative man.
And yet, here he was—offering one pleasant question after another, maintaining a light and courteous tone as though they were on a casual garden walk.
He seemed to be trying to learn more about her. Her reactions. Her responses. She had already gathered he was observant—and dangerous.
So she played her part. Polite, but distant.
Edgard led her to the northernmost wing of the Estate. As they ventured deeper, the absence of servants became more pronounced. Their footsteps echoed against the polished concrete, the sound sharp and lonely in the silence of the long hallway.
Eventually, the corridor opened into a dimly lit room. The sudden shift from the bright corridors to the murky interior was disorienting—but that wasn't what seized Nadia's attention.
At the center of the otherwise empty room yawned a massive hole, nearly three meters across. A winding staircase spiraled down into the depths below, disappearing into complete darkness. There was no light to guide the way—only shadow and descent.
Nadia stepped closer to the edge, peering down. The staircase seemed to twist endlessly, swallowed by the void. A faint draft rose from below, cool and damp, brushing against her face like the breath of something ancient.
She hesitated. The darkness wasn't just physical—it felt heavy, as if it pressed against the senses, inviting yet foreboding.
"It might be a little uncomfortable, but please bear with it. It's all part of the security system for the vault." Edgard explained. Nadia responded with a nod of her head and the aide smiled.
The two began their descent. With each step, the stairs lit beneath their feet, casting a soft golden glow that guided them downward.
After nearly five minutes, they finally reached the bottom. The staircase gave way to broad corridors bathed in a muted amber light. The air was cool—brisk, but not cold—and carried a subtle, persistent hum. Nadia recognized it instantly: chrome energy, denser and more vibrant than what she'd felt in the library.
But that wasn't what startled her.
The narrow passage felt suffocating. The concrete walls seemed to press inward, closer with each breath. A rush of buried memories surged to the surface—fragments from her nightmares, sharp and unrelenting. Her chest tightened, breath growing shallow. Every instinct screamed at her to run.
She was panicking as the terror of those days rose anew in her heart. The corridors of the vault were replaced with the dark hallways of her underground prison. Nadia wanted to scream, to cry, to crawl out of that hell.
But her feet were frozen in place, her mouth nailed shut, in fear of making a sound and earning the ire of a guard. Her eyes stung with unshed tears.
Please… please… please…
She chanted in her mind like a prayer. What she was begging for, even she did not know, but she thought death may be more merciful to her than those people.
"You are alright. You are safe."
The system's voice resonated in her mind, instantly snapping her back to her senses. Gone were the damp, musty hallways of the prison. Gone was the helpless little girl who prayed for death every second of her existence.
"They can't hurt you anymore."
The voice was mechanical. She often wondered if the system was a sentient technology or an actual being, far removed from the shackles of mortality. However, it didn't really matter. It had showed up when she was at the final flicker of her life.
It gave her hope, and a goal to stay alive. And it took care of her when no one else would even come close to understand what she had been through.
Nadia took a deep breath, steadying herself yet again. She also felt the effects of 'Mental Barrier' kicking in. Her return to composure was swift with no lasting effects, as if nothing had been amiss at the first place.
"Lady Nadia?" Edgard called out, and Nadia saw him standing a few steps ahead of her. He was watching her in that observatory, calculating way.
There was a hint of surprise in his eyes, as if something had managed to betray his precise calculations.
"Why have you stopped?" Nadia questioned, her voice calm.
"Oh. Just waiting for you, milady." Edgard smiled again. Gone was the scrutinizing gaze, instead now replaced with a hint of amusement.
It was as if he had seen through her calm exterior and he was entertained by what he had discovered. Nadia felt mildly irked at his reaction.
And she affirmed once again. The man in front of her could not be trusted.