The driver cleared his throat. "We're here sir."
Kaien finally opened his eyes, but he didn't reply; he just gave a slow, rigid nod. He didn't have to touch the door; the butler already had it open. He took a deep breath of the perfectly controlled air in the car and stepped out.
The familiar scent — a heady, intoxicating mix of sweet jasmine and rain-kissed earth with a subtle metallic smell— hit him, replacing the leather scent of the interior. The ache of the memories tightened his chest. The irony felt bitter — his grandfather had never been close to his mother while she lived, now in death he clung to the memory of her with…flowers.
"Good afternoon Mr Liorux." The butler bowed lowly
Kaien grunted in acknowledgement and turned towards the mansion, the butler matching pace with his strides.
"The Stonebloom Lilies are in blooming season, would you like to see them? They look stunning by midday."
Kaien's jaw tightened. "No." His face was blank. "Take me to my grandfather."
The butler nodded. "It's a shame." He snuck a glance at Kaien. "They will be gone by Twilight."
Because beautiful things were fragile. They weren't meant to survive the filth of this world. Like his mother.
They cross the threshold, and the first thing that hits him is the heavy, dry air, smelling faintly of aged leather and old money.
Kaien doesn't see a luxurious home, he sees a fortress of indifference. The floors: mirror-polished squares of black granite that feel colder and harder than they have any right to be. He could only focus on the absence of warmth — no cushion, no clutter, no trace of human vulnerability. Except for a single enormous abstract painting, all the cold blues are like the jade vase sitting on a pedestal close to it.
They climb the stairs in silence — a floating ribbon of opaque glass and brushed steel. The sound of their footsteps was swallowed by an enormous hall, like a vault meant to hold secrets.
"The master is waiting for you inside." The butler stood rigid, waiting for the dismissal.
Kaien didn't reply; he pushed the door open and stepped in. The sound of the heavy doors clicking shut behind him echoed in the silence of the house.
The air here is denser— the smell of old paper, expensive scotch, and sealed off history. Kaien takes in the familiar sight; books lined the walls rising to the ceiling.
The lighting — a harsh download yellow cone of light that illuminated the working space and cast the rest of the room in shadows.
Kaien's lips curled into a smirk. Still hiding in the shadows I see.
His gaze travelled past the desk — an enormous black wood— to the man sitting at the head. Their eyes met across the table — a thousand unsaid words exchanged in a single gaze.
The grandfather who'd sent him away once—who'd given him schoolbooks and cold, distant kindness—was older now, smaller in the shoulders, but he did not tremble. Alaric remained motionless behind the table, the light casting shadows on his sharp features.
Kaien walked to him in slow measured steps. "Grandfather." He gave a curt nod.
Alaric narrowed his eyes. They fogged up with emotions Kaien couldn't tell— too twisted. Too complicated. Like this thing between them. He acknowledged Kaien's greeting with a cold nod and turned away.
"Mr Sterling has something to tell you." Alaric offered no further explanation, turning his attention to a document on the desk.
Kaien's gaze flicked to the man sitting opposite his grandfather. He rose from his seat, looking slightly nervous, with his brown hair collapsing onto his forehead. Black suit clinging to his stiff frame. Plain. Unassuming.
"Good afternoon Mr Liorux."
"How are things in Liorux Holdings Emil?" Kaien gestured for Emil to take his seat.
"No one suspects my cover." Emil began. "There are some internal disagreements in the company. Not everyone agrees with Darius's decision to appoint Lucien as CFO." He tapped his hands on the table. "Mr Vance, especially has strong opinions about this."
Kaien's smile was not a smile. "It seems I should have tea with Mr Vance soon. We share a lot in common." He turned to Alaric. "What do you think, Grandfather?"
Alaric spoke with the clarity of a man who had long fought such wars. "Let Mr Sterling sound him out further. We must decide if he's truly suitable to be an ally before showing our hand." He cast a bored glance at Emil. "Darius is not an easy man to cross. Vance might be disgruntled, but he is not willing to cross him."
"None of the shareholders is willing to sell." Emil darted a nervous glance at Kaien.
Kaien shot him an icy look across the table. "Then perhaps you should work on your persuasion skills." His voice lowered, deceptively soft. "Little Amma really needs that heart, doesn't she?"
Emil swallowed, sweating under his tight suit. He spluttered, his words failing him.
The sound of a bottle being opened broke the tense silence. The scent of aged scotch fills the room. "Care for a drink?" Alaric poured out the drink into a glass.
Kaien shook his head. "I am more of a Bourbon person."
"The feud between Lucien and Vincent has intensified lately." Emil's voice seemed to have returned from whatever vacation it had taken. "Their skirmishes in the boardroom have been the talk after meetings."
Kaien's breathing hitched at the mention of the name, Vincent — that monster. He leaned on the table, hands gripping the edges with a force that almost hurt.
You're stronger than this. Breathe. Count. Two. Three. His muscles locked, body tensing. The memories hit harder. Four..five…
A warm touch in his hand, a small squeeze anchored him back to reality. He blinked past the haze, the taste of iron in his mouth proof of the force he had used when subconsciously biting his lips.
Alaric's hand fell back to his side as if nothing had happened. Kaien blinked, refusing to acknowledge it.
Shame and fury curled in his chest. He felt disgusted by his weakness.
He shot a glance at Emil who seemed unaware — or maybe he was aware —blinking nervously.
Kaien laughed, hating the way his voice cracked. "So Vincent is dissatisfied with Lucien's golden boy treatment and feels underappreciated, tell me what's new?" He arched a brow.
"Liorux Holdings has received a new project." Emil shifted in his seat. "Orion Hotel façade project." He picked up an unassuming brown envelope lying on the table. "Lucien is the one handling it."
Kaien tilted his head towards the envelope. "Let me see."
Emil approached him with cautious steps and handed him the envelope, standing a few feet from him.
Kaien's eyes remained on the papers, calm and sharp. The project was mid-tier — not one that could shake Liorux Holdings. A mid-scale redesign focused on modernizing the hotel's street presence: new glass-and-steel frontage, upgraded lighting, a reworked entrance canopy, and a signature vertical light column meant to brand the hotel from a distance. Not multi-billion-dollar, but prestigious.
"Originally Vincent was supposed to be in charge of this project." Emil cleared his throat. "But later Darius has the project head switched to Lucien, and Vincent has been livid."
This would be Lucien's debut project; if something went wrong, the board would lose trust in him. The media would clamour to get the news. Liorux Holdings would feel the rift.
"This is perfect." Kaien smiled — a cold thing that made Emil shiver.
"What's the plan, sir?" Emil asked tentatively.
"Sabotage the project enough for Lucien to fall, then have Vincent swoop in like a knight in shining armour to save the day." His lips were curled into a smile, but his eyes — colder than ice. "Since both of them are so eager for war, there's nothing wrong with lighting the fire for them." How wonderful, the perfect family would tear itself apart while he watched from the shadows.
Emil nodded, schooling his expression into a mask of neutrality. He hadn't thought from this angle, never imagined that Kaien wouldn't fight them himself, but use them against each other.
"You may leave Emil," Kaien said. "Keep me updated on the project. I will tell you what to do and when to move."
"Of course, Sir." He bowed to Kaien and Alaric hurried out of the study.
The silence in the room felt loud somehow.
Kaien turned towards the window, gazing at the city's skyline. His cream blazer absorbed the light from the window, painting him in a deceptive image of fragility. He ran his fingers across the name — Lucien Liorux. Golden boy. Perfect son. He was all Kaien wanted to be once.
His eyes darkened, lost in the familiar memories. The image looked vivid, too vivid to be false. A younger version of himself cowered on the floor as Lucien loomed over him, shining blonde hair and cold blue eyes. The smirk on his lips was cruel.
I will be the one smiling from above this time dearest brother.
"Patience, Kaien. A sharp blade cuts once, but a careful hand cuts ten times and leaves no trace. You must learn the difference."
Kaien blinked, the memory dissolving. He didn't know when Alaric had stood beside him, their shoulders almost brushing.
"I have been patient for twelve years, grandfather." Kaien's fingers traced indecipherable patterns on the window. "I am done being patient."
Alaric took a slow sip from his cup. "I see the fire in your chest boy. Do not let it burn you before your enemies."
"When you pulled me off that railing twelve years ago, you told me I should live to make them pay." Kaien turned towards Alaric. "It is time they pay me what they owe." He moved away from the window.
His body trembled from anticipation. Blood lit with the fury coursing through his veins. "I do not care if this fire consumes me as well, as long as I burn them all first."