The silence inside Lucien Vornhart's chamber felt so dense it was as if the air had frozen into sharp crystals, ready to slash the lungs of anyone brave enough to breathe too deeply. On one side, Lucien sat in his grand chair, chin resting on his small hand, staring at the world with crimson eyes that held the weary soul of an adult man. On the other, Dayn Raven—the scholar revered by the Empire—remained prostrate, his forehead pressed firmly against the expensive carpet that now felt like burning coals.
The study session, which was supposed to be an exchange of knowledge, had mutated into a suffocating interrogation. To Lucien, the black tea incident was merely a minor disturbance, an anomaly of thirst accidentally quenched by another. But to Hans Vaneheart, every leaf of that tea represented his Young Master's dignity. And in the world of Vornhart, a violation of dignity was a sin that could only be atoned for with blood or absolute devotion.
"You said... you would do anything?"
Lucien's voice broke the silence. His tone was flat, almost lazy, yet in Dayn's ears, it sounded like a verdict from a judge in an underground court. Dayn nodded with jerky movements, not daring to lift his face even an inch.
"Yes, Young Master... Anything. My soul, my life... please, let me live," Dayn whispered, his voice hoarse from the terror draining his energy.
Lucien glanced at Hans, who stood in the shadows of the room's corner. Before Dayn arrived, Hans had whispered a suggestion as slick as a serpent. He wanted Dayn to be completely enslaved. Hans argued that a scholar from the Northern territories with access to the Main Estate was both an asset and a threat. If they did not lock in Dayn's loyalty now, this man would become the ears and eyes of the Grand Duke.
Hearing the suggestion, Lucien had stared at Hans with an intensity that could make a veteran soldier tremble. A spy? Lucien thought cynically. If anyone deserved to be suspected as a spy, Hans was the prime candidate. Hans was the head butler of the Main Estate. He had traveled back and forth to the center of Vornhart power more often than anyone in this mansion. However, Lucien chose to remain silent. He knew his position; currently, he was just a small lion whose claws were not yet sharp enough to tear Hans's throat. Fighting Hans now was suicide. So, he followed his servant's lead.
Hans stepped forward, his shadow looming over Dayn's trembling body. "From now on," Hans's voice hissed coldly, "whatever orders the Vornhart Family—the center—gives you, you must report them to us. Any... or-der... at all."
"Of—of course! I will do it!" Dayn replied spontaneously. His mind was no longer able to process political or moral consequences. His survival instinct had taken the wheel.
"Good that you agreed so quickly," Hans smiled, an expression that more closely resembled a predator's snarl. "In that case, let us create a Soul Contract."
Dayn's body stiffened. "Wh-what? A Soul... Contract?"
The world seemed to crumble beneath Dayn's knees. A Soul Contract was not just an agreement on paper; it was ancient magic that bound a person's life essence to a promise. Breaking it meant inviting suffering worse than death.
"It is merely to the extent that you will feel an excruciating headache if you violate the agreement," Hans said casually, as if offering another cup of tea. He held out a piece of old parchment that emitted a faint black aura toward Dayn.
Lucien stared at the sheet with furrowed brows. Since when did Hans carry such a thing? Wonder flashed through his mind, but it was quickly replaced by pragmatic thoughts. If this Soul Contract was truly that powerful, could he not use it on Hans someday? Imagining Hans bound by the same contract made him feel a slight sense of relief. The weight of suspicion that had been crushing him could be lifted if he had absolute control over the loyalty of those around him.
"May I read it first?" Dayn asked hesitantly, his trembling fingers reaching for the parchment.
"Certainly, read it as thoroughly as possible," Hans replied with a fake, friendly tone.
Dayn traced line after line of the ancient writing. His eyes widened as he realized how airtight this contract was. There were no loopholes. No ambiguities.
"You... you only wish for me to not work for the entire Vornhart family, and to work only for Lucien Vornhart alone?" Dayn confirmed, his voice squeaking.
"Yes. And of course, not to work for any servant, slave, commoner, or noble affiliated with Vornhart other than Young Master Lucien," Hans explained.
Dayn swallowed hard. This was not just a labor contract; it was Lucien's declaration of independence from his own family. Hans was building a wall of secrets around this three-year-old boy.
"B-but, what if I am later threatened with death by the Grand Duke?" Dayn asked, imagining the demonic face of the legendary Head of the Family.
"Rest easy," Hans patted Dayn's shoulder, a touch that felt like the coldness of a corpse. "You may accept orders from them. However, what you report back to them will only be what comes from our mouths, not based on your personal observations. You will be our mouthpiece in their ears."
Dayn nodded weakly. He had no choice. Trembling, he bit his thumb until blood seeped out, then pressed his fingerprint onto the signature column. Hans took the parchment and knelt before Lucien.
"Young Master, if you please."
Hans offered a small, razor-sharp knife. Lucien took it without hesitation. He sliced the tip of his thumb, letting the sting be a reminder of the cruelty of this world. As his deep red blood touched the parchment, a magical phenomenon occurred. The paper suddenly ignited with a red flame that was not hot but radiated a suffocating aura. Lucien was slightly startled, thinking his hand would burn as well, but the fire only consumed the paper until it became ash that vanished into another dimension.
The bond was locked.
Hans stood up, looking at Dayn with an unreadable gaze. "Happy working," he whispered, then silently turned and left the room, leaving Lucien and Dayn alone in the newfound silence.
Lucien exhaled, leaning back into his chair. "Since we have made a contract, the next thing you need to do is simply teach. After all, there haven't been any orders from the main residence, have there?"
Dayn went silent. His face paled dramatically. He wanted to lie, but suddenly, a sharp throb struck the center of his brain. It felt as if thousands of hot needles were being driven into his skull simultaneously.
"Actually..." Dayn groaned, clutching his head as his vision began to swim. "I... I have already received one order from the main residence."
The pain eased slightly as the truth left his mouth. Lucien did not look surprised. He only stared at Dayn with a sharp, skeptical gaze.
"They asked me to... torture you during the lessons," Dayn spoke quickly, fearing the pain would return. "They commanded me not to teach you anything other than absolute obedience and etiquette as a servant to the family. I am forbidden from giving you general knowledge, history, or strategy."
Dayn panted. The pain in his head vanished the moment the whole truth was spoken. He looked at his hands in horror; the soul contract really worked. He was now a slave to Lucien's truth.
"Who ordered you?" Lucien asked, his voice now as heavy as a tombstone.
Dayn hesitated for a moment. But as the pain bit into his brain again with even greater intensity, making him nearly fall as he stood, he let out a small shriek: "Grand Duke Vornhart! The order came in the name of the Grand Duke!"
Instantly, the pain vanished.
Lucien froze. Inside that small body, Osric's soul seethed. He was shocked, yet at the same time, there was a familiar bitterness. His own father. The man who was supposed to be his protector had instead ordered a scholar to destroy his intellectual potential from the start. They didn't want an heir; they wanted a compliant puppet.
"Were you ordered directly?" Lucien asked, his hands clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
Dayn shook his head quickly. "No, Young Master. I received an official letter with a black wax seal and the Grand Duke's personal signature. That is why I am certain the order came directly from him."
Lucien looked out the window, toward the gray Northern sky. A cold rage began to freeze within his chest. Here we go again, he thought. Betrayed before I even had the chance to step out of this door. He realized now that he wasn't just living in the Trial Mansion; he was living in a cage designed to break his wings. But they were dead wrong. They sent a scholar to make him a fool, but they had instead given him his first tool for revenge.
"Dayn," Lucien called without turning.
"Yes, Young Master?"
"Teach me everything. History, politics, geography, and the filth of this empire. And as for the report to the main residence..." Lucien turned back, giving the most terrifying smile Dayn had ever seen on a child. "Tell the Main Estate that I am a very obedient and... stupid child."
Dayn Raven swallowed hard. He knew that from this moment on, he was no longer a scholar of the empire. He was an accomplice to a disaster waiting to explode.