The silence of the estate was no longer the heavy, suffocating blanket it once was. It was now punctuated by the occasional sound of Jin-Ho's laughter or the rhythmic clicking of Lian's keyboard. However, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the study in a bruised purple light, Lian felt a familiar prickle at the base of his neck.
It wasn't the panic of the Haphephobia. It was the instinct of a soldier who knew he was being tracked.
Lian sat at his desk, staring at an encrypted file he had intercepted from a dark-web forum. It wasn't about Aether International, nor was it about the Lian family. It was a simple, high-resolution photograph of an ancient medicinal box—the exact one he had used in his previous life to store his most lethal toxins.
The box had been buried with him. Or so he thought.
'How?' he wondered, his breath hitching. 'That world is gone. That life is ash.'
He zoomed in on the image. Carved into the dark wood was a seal that made his blood run cold: a coiled viper biting its own tail. It was the mark of Shao-Hui, his mentor and eventual executioner from his first life—the man who had taught him everything about medicine and betrayal.
The Shadow at the GalaTwo days later, the "Jewel of the Aristocracy" was forced to emerge. It was the annual Blue Moon Gala, the most prestigious event for the five great families. Lian stood in the grand ballroom, his black suit tailored so perfectly it looked like armor. He wore thin, silk-lined leather gloves, his eyes scanning the crowd with the detachment of a hawk.
"You look like you're planning a funeral, not attending a party," a voice whispered in his ear.
Jin-Ho was there, looking devastating in a midnight-blue velvet blazer. He didn't try to touch Lian, but he stood close enough that his warmth acted as a barrier against the rest of the suffocating crowd.
"I am surrounded by ghosts, Jin-Ho," Lian replied, his gaze fixed on a figure across the room.
A man was standing by the champagne tower. He was older, with silver hair and a face that looked like it was carved from stone. He was dressed in a traditional high-collared suit that felt out of place in the modern ballroom. He wasn't looking at the celebrities or the politicians. He was looking directly at Lian.
The man raised a glass. His lips moved, forming a silent word that only Lian could read: Student.
Lian's world tilted. The music, the chatter, the clinking of glasses—it all faded into a dull roar. The Haphephobia flared violently. He felt as if a thousand cold hands were suddenly pressing against his skin. His lungs seized, and he stumbled back, his shoulder hitting a marble pillar.
"Lian?" Jin-Ho's voice was sharp with concern. He stepped into Lian's line of sight, blocking the silver-haired man. "Lian, look at me. Breathe. Just breathe."
"He's here," Lian gasped, his eyes wide and unfocused. "He followed me. Across the veil. Across death."
Jin-Ho's eyes narrowed. He glanced over his shoulder at the silver-haired man, but the space by the champagne tower was empty. The man had vanished like smoke.
"There's no one there, Little Phoenix," Jin-Ho said, his voice dropping to a low, grounding frequency. He didn't touch Lian, but he moved his hand slowly through the air, drawing Lian's focus back to the present. "Focus on my voice. You're in the ballroom. You're safe. I'm right here."
Lian gripped his own arms, his fingers digging into the fabric of his sleeves. The panic attack was a tidal wave, but Jin-Ho was the anchor. Slowly, the oxygen returned to his lungs. The grey fog in his mind began to recede, leaving behind a sharp, cold fear.
The Message in the DarkLian didn't stay for the rest of the gala. He retreated to his car, his movements jerky and forced. Jin-Ho followed him, silent and observant, his usual "cunning fox" banter replaced by a predatory stillness.
When they reached the Lian estate, Lian marched to his study, only to find a small, wooden object sitting in the center of his desk.
It was the box from the photograph.
Lian didn't touch it. He pulled out his ceramic blade, his eyes darting to every corner of the room. Beside the box was a note written in elegant, traditional calligraphy—a style that hadn't been used in this world for centuries.
"The soul can travel, but the debt remains. You stole the secrets of the Viper, my dear student. I have come to collect the interest. Sleep well, Little Phoenix. The nightmare has only just begun."
Lian felt the "Extreme Loneliness" of his first life crashing into his second. He was no longer just a CEO or a son. He was a hunted man.
Suddenly, a hand appeared in his peripheral vision. Lian spun, the blade poised to strike, but stopped inches from Jin-Ho's throat.
Jin-Ho didn't flinch. He looked at the blade, then at the box, and finally at Lian's terrified, cold eyes.
"I don't know who this 'Viper' is," Jin-Ho said, his voice as steady as a heartbeat. "And I don't know how he got in here. But I do know one thing."
He stepped closer, closing the gap until he was within the circle of Lian's fear.
"You aren't a student anymore, Lian. You're a King. And you aren't alone this time." Jin-Ho's gaze was fierce, protective, and for the first time, devoid of any mockery. "Let him come. We'll turn his viper into a rug."
Lian looked at the "Cunning Fox" standing before him. He felt the darkness of his past reaching for him, but for the first time, the light wasn't just annoying. It was a shield.
He lowered the blade, his breath shaking. "He's a god of poison, Jin-Ho. He doesn't fight with fists. He fights with the soul."
"Good," Jin-Ho smirked, the fox returning to his eyes. "I've always wanted to see what a god looks like when he's bleeding."
The mystery was no longer just about who Lian was. It was about who was coming for him. And as the clock struck midnight, the silent war between two lifetimes officially began.