Laughter broke out across the yard, sharp and careless.
"Say that again, Ralph," Lucas scoffed, nudging him. "I dare you."
Ralph smirked. "You wouldn't survive it."
The others joined in—voices overlapping, shoulders bumping, easy chaos.
Artavius didn't move with them.
He stood still, just slightly apart, watching.
Not bored. Not interested.
Just… aware.
"Artavius," Ralph called, turning toward him. "You planning to speak today or just haunt us?"
A faint smirk touched Artavius' lips.
Gone just as quickly.
"Depends," he said quietly.
"On?" Lucas pushed.
His gaze lifted—slow, unreadable.
"Whether it's worth it."
That was enough.
Ralph let out a low laugh, shaking his head. "See? This is why no one argues with you."
They didn't.
Not really.
There was something about him—something that made people step back without knowing why.
His eyes shifted, scanning the space without effort.
Cold grey.
Still.
Like nothing reached them fully.
"Boss is looking for you," Ralph added after a second.
This time, Artavius didn't respond.
But he moved.
Inside, the air felt different.
Quieter.
Heavier.
Each step echoed softer against the floor as he walked past the corridor he knew too well.
Then—
voices.
He stopped.
"…this isn't something we can afford to mishandle," the leader said.
Another voice followed. Lower. More cautious.
"You're targeting the wrong family."
A pause.
Then the name—
"Arthur Sylvester's daughter."
Something shifted.
Small.
But real.
Artavius' fingers curled slightly at his side.
Not fear.
Not hesitation.
Just… awareness.
He shouldn't have stayed.
But he did.
"She's protected," the second voice continued. "You know what this could turn into."
The leader exhaled slowly.
"That's exactly why it has to be done right."
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Decisive.
Artavius stepped back before they could notice.
His heartbeat—steady.
Too steady.
He walked to his room, closing the door behind him with quiet precision.
For a moment, he just stood there.
Still.
Then his gaze dropped.
To his arm.
The faint star-shaped mark.
Unfamiliar.
Unanswered.
His fingers brushed over it lightly.
A habit.
Or maybe a question.
Arthur Sylvester's daughter.
His jaw tightened—barely.
This wasn't fear.
It wasn't doubt.
But something about this—
made his pulse shift… just once.
The room fell silent after the name.
Artavius didn't move immediately.
Then—
"I won't do it."
The words were calm.
But they landed heavy.
For a second, no one spoke.
Then the leader let out a quiet breath—almost amused.
"I expected that from you."
Artavius' jaw tightened slightly.
"This isn't necessary," he added. "Send someone else."
A pause.
Then a faint chuckle.
"Oh, I will."
The leader leaned back slightly, eyes watching him carefully.
"You think this is about whether you want to do it?"
Silence.
Ralph shifted uncomfortably near the door.
Lucas avoided looking at either of them.
The leader's voice dropped.
"Don't mistake your position here, Artavius."
Not loud.
Not angry.
Just… clear.
A beat passed.
Then—
"I'll have the others handle it."
Artavius didn't respond.
But something in his expression hardened.
As he turned to leave—
his fingers curled slightly at his side.
Because for the first time—
he wasn't just walking away from a task.
He was walking toward something he didn't understand.