Chapter : 252

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"My endurance parameters are set to couch mode," Ken mumbled. But he shuffled along behind them anyway, because the alternative was standing alone on a street corner, and that required more effort than following.

They walked north through the commercial district, crossing the wide boulevard that separated the outer markets from the Inner City. The change was immediate and dramatic. The cobblestones here were smoother, polished to a shine. The buildings were taller, their facades painted in rich creams and golds.

Enchanted window displays showed shimmering dresses, enchanted jewelry, and perfectly arranged mannequins that moved in slow, elegant poses.

The clothing market of the Inner City was famous across the capital. Noble families and wealthy merchants came here to buy the finest garments in the Empire. The shops sold everything from hand-stitched silk gowns to custom-fitted combat armor. The prices were astronomical. The quality was undeniable.

The atmosphere was hushed and refined, like walking through a gallery of beautiful, expensive things that you were not supposed to touch.

Risa's eyes went wide the moment they entered the street. She pressed her hands together and leaned toward the nearest window display, where a bolt of shimmering silver fabric caught the light like liquid moonlight. "Oh, that is beautiful," she whispered, her voice full of genuine wonder.

Luna peered at the price tag and let out a low whistle. "That costs more than our entire estate's monthly food budget."

"Worth it," Risa said dreamily, not taking her eyes off the fabric.

Ken scratched his head and stared at a nearby shop selling ties. One tie cost more than his entire wardrobe. Combined. He backed away slowly, as if the prices might be contagious.

Ira walked beside them, her posture as precise as always. She did not look at the fabrics or the jewelry. Her blank eyes were fixed ahead, her expression completely neutral. She moved through the luxury market like a ghost passing through a world that had nothing to do with her.

The group wandered deeper into the market, past boutiques and tailors and perfume shops that sprayed tiny clouds of fragrance into the street as you walked by. Risa stopped at every window. Luna yawned at every corner. Ken complained about every step.

It was peaceful. It was pleasant. It was exactly the kind of lazy, aimless outing that made you forget about succession wars and mana poison and all the dark things lurking in the shadows of the Empire.

Then the door of a high-end boutique swung open, and the peace shattered like glass.

A man stepped out onto the sidewalk.

He was tall. Very tall. At least a head taller than anyone else on the street. His shoulders were broad and his posture was flawless, the kind of posture that came from years of military training and absolute confidence. He wore an immaculate, perfectly tailored suit that was so dark it seemed to absorb the light around it.

The fabric probably cost more than most people earned in a year.

His hair was dark and slicked back from a sharp, angular face. His jaw was tight. His cheekbones were high and severe. His eyes were a pale, cold grey, the color of winter skies and frozen stone. They moved across the street with the casual, dismissive authority of someone who owned everything they looked at.

An aura surrounded him. Not a visible one. Not something you could see with your eyes. But you could feel it. It pressed against your skin like an invisible wall, dense and suffocating and deeply, instinctively wrong. It was the aura of someone who had spent decades mastering combat magic and crushing everyone who stood in their way.

People on the street noticed. They stepped aside. They lowered their eyes. A few of them quickly crossed to the other side of the boulevard, suddenly finding very urgent business in the opposite direction.

The man's cold grey eyes swept the street. And they stopped.

They stopped on Ira.

Ira had frozen. Completely. Utterly. Her body had gone as rigid as a stone statue, every muscle locked tight. Her pale face, which was always blank, always unreadable, always perfectly empty, had changed. Not into fear, exactly. It was something deeper than fear. Something older.

Something that lived in the part of the mind that remembered what it felt like to be small and helpless and completely at the mercy of someone who was supposed to protect you.

Her lips moved. Just once. A single word, spoken in a voice so flat and quiet it was almost inaudible.

"Niro."

The name fell from her mouth like a stone dropping into deep water. No emotion. No inflection. Just the mechanical pronunciation of a word she clearly wished she never had to say again.

The man's grey eyes locked onto her. Something shifted in his expression. It was not warmth. It was not surprise. It was not concern. It was disgust. Pure, unfiltered, absolute disgust, the kind of revulsion a person might feel upon finding a stain on an otherwise perfect garment.

"Ira," he said. His voice was deep, smooth, and completely devoid of affection. It was the voice of someone who was accustomed to being obeyed without question. "What a surprise. I did not expect to find you parading through the Inner City like you belong here."

Luna's tired eyes widened. She stepped slightly closer to Ira, her body language shifting from relaxed to alert in a single breath. She leaned toward Ken and whispered urgently, "That is a Grandmaster. I can feel his mana. He is at least Grandmaster rank, Ken. Maybe higher."

Ken's lazy expression did not change. But his dark eyes, which had been half-closed and bored since they left the theater, opened just a little wider. He studied the tall man with the casual, unhurried attention of someone reading a mildly interesting newspaper headline.

Niro stepped closer. His expensive shoes clicked against the polished cobblestones. His aura rolled ahead of him like a wave of cold air, making the nearest shoppers shiver and step back even further.

He stopped directly in front of Ira. He looked down at her from his full height, his grey eyes narrowing with contempt. His lip curled slightly, as if the very sight of his sister left a bad taste in his mouth.

"Look at you," Niro said, his voice carrying across the quiet street. He did not lower it. He did not try to keep this private. He spoke as if he wanted everyone within earshot to hear. "Wandering the Inner City in that pathetic uniform. Associating with commoners and lowborn trash.

Tell me, Ira, how does it feel to be the family's greatest disappointment?"

Ira did not respond. She stood perfectly still, her arms at her sides, her face an empty mask. But her hands trembled. Just barely. Just enough that someone standing very close might notice.

Ken noticed.

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