Silence dragged on inside the Grand Hall.
Alex stood in the center of that quiet, and watched his father’s face. Nothing in it changed.
The old man sat exactly as he had before, his gray eye resting calmly on his son.
Then someone else broke the silence.
"Who the hell do you think you are to oppose Father’s decision? You, of all people? You should be..."
Daniel’s voice shook.
Edward Vance raised his right hand a few inches from the arm of the throne.
That was all.
Daniel’s mouth closed so fast that Alex heard his teeth click. Alex turned his head, caught his brother’s eye for a single second, and smiled.
’Good boy.’
Then the old man’s voice came again, quiet and deep.
"Why do you oppose me?"
Alex bowed his head.
"Father, I do not oppose your decision blindly."
He chose each word with care.
"I only ask for the opportunity to compete."
A faint stir ran through the air.
Alex did not raise his head. He kept his eyes on the carpet, but in his mind he was laying out everything he knew, piece by piece.
The old Alex had not been much of a scholar. He had spent most of his days training and sulking. But in the long months after the ceremony, when he had stopped doing anything at all, he had read.
Most of it had been useless. But some of it had stayed.
Alex knew how heirs were decided in this family. It was not a matter of favoritism or blood alone.
"Compete?"
Edward’s voice cut through his thoughts.
"How?"
His tone was flat.
"You have no mana."
Beside him, Daniel let out a small, quiet breath through his nose.
"I know, Father."
He raised his eyes, slowly, and met the old man’s gaze.
"The heir to the Vance household is not crowned until he has graduated from the academy."
His voice was calm.
"That is the rule. It has been the rule since the founding."
Edward said nothing.
"I know the entrance exams have already been held." Alex took a breath. "But the preliminary exams are only two weeks away. Anyone who passes them can still be admitted."
His gaze did not waver.
"I want to compete in them."
The seconds passed. Edward looked like he was thinking.
Alex stayed where he was.
He did not look away, and he did not fidget. He let the silence stretch, and he let the weight of the old man’s aura roll over him, and he met it with a steady gaze and a straight back.
’Come on. I’m not asking for much, just a door.’
At last Edward spoke.
"I understand."
His voice was slow.
"But how do you intend to compete, Alex?"
Alex had no answer. There was the system, with its strange promise and its three women. But he couldn’t tell them about that.
So he did the only thing he could. He kept staring straight into those gray eyes.
"Just give me the chance, Father."
He simply said it, and he let the sentence stand on its own.
Then something changed.
It was subtle. Alex almost missed it. The old man’s gaze, which had been so calm and cool, held on him a fraction of a second longer than it needed to. The faintest crease appeared at the edge of the scar, and the corner of his mouth moved, just a little, behind the white of his beard.
It was not quite a smile.
But it was not far from one.
Edward let out a slow breath.
"Very well."
Alex’s heart skipped.
"I will allow it."
Daniel’s head jerked up.
"Father..."
"You will have two weeks."
The old man’s voice rolled over him without even slowing.
"If you pass the preliminary exams and gain entrance to the academy, as you have said, then the matter remains open, and the heirship will be decided in the usual way."
He leaned back.
"If you do not..."
He let the pause hang.
"Then Daniel takes everything, and you will go north to the estate I have given you, and there will be no further discussion."
"Understood," Alex said.
He lowered his head.
"Thank you, Father."
He meant it.
Behind him, he heard a sharp, irritated sound.
"Tch."
’Two weeks. That’s all I need.’
But it was a chance.
And a chance was all he had ever asked for.
"You may leave, Alex."
The old man’s voice came again.
Alex looked up.
"Daniel. You stay behind."
"Yes, Father," Daniel said stiffly.
Alex rose to his feet.
His left arm throbbed. The pain rolled up into his shoulder and settled behind his eyes. But he stood straight, and he bowed once, then he turned.
He reached the great doors, pushed them open with his good hand and stepped through.
He leaned against the wall for a moment, closed his eyes, and gathered himself. The hand was still painful and he had endured it all this while.
Then he heard a quiet rustle of cloth. A few steps away, beside the doorframe, someone was standing. Her green eyes were fixed on him.
It was Elena.
She had been waiting by the door. Of course she had. A servant could not enter the Grand Hall without being called.
Alex straightened slowly, and his hand drifted instinctively toward his sleeve.
Elena bowed for a few seconds longer than normal and then she finally lifted her face.
"Young master Alex."
Her voice was soft and low, the same graceful, silken voice that had cut through the tension in the bedroom.
"May I speak?"
He glanced at the doors behind him, then back at her.
"Yeah. Go ahead."
Elena lowered her eyes. She seemed to gather her words carefully.
"I wished to thank you."
Alex frowned.
"For what?"
"For what you did in the room."
She raised her gaze again.
"You protected a maid."
The words were quiet, but they carried unexpected weight.
"It is not something I have often seen. In all my years in this household, I have never seen a master place himself between a servant and a blow."
Her fingers tightened slightly where they were folded.
"We are not people, to most of them. We are furniture that carries trays. If we are struck, it is because we were in the way. No one ever has."
She paused.
"But you did."
Alex stared at her.
He had not known what to expect from this conversation, but it was not this.
"I deeply appreciate it," Elena said softly. "More than I can say."
Alex shook his head.
"It’s nothing."
"It was not nothing."
"It was." He gave her a small, tired smile. "A man shouldn’t raise his hand at someone who can’t hit back. That’s all. I would do it again."
He paused.
"Anytime."
Elena looked at him.
For a few seconds she said nothing, and Alex could not tell what she was thinking.
Then, very slowly, she smiled.
"I see," she murmured.
Her gaze dropped. It slid down to his left sleeve, and the smile faded into something more serious.
"Young master. Please show me your arm."
Alex hesitated.
"It’s fine..."
"It is not." Her voice was gentle but firm. "I can see how you are holding it. You have been favoring it since you left the hall. Please. Let me see."
He sighed.
"Are you a healer?"
"Yes."
The answer came without hesitation.
Alex’s eyebrows rose.
"Healing is my talent," Elena said. "It is not a strong one. But it is enough to mend a broken bone, if it is done soon enough."
Her gaze held his.
"If you allow it, I can restore your arm to what it was. As a token of my gratitude for what you did for my sister."
Alex opened his mouth to thank her.
Then he stopped.
"Sister? Lena is your sister?"
"Yes. She is."
Elena tilted her head slightly, as if confused by his confusion.
"You didn’t know that?" She said holding back a slight laugh.
Alex’s mind went quiet.
Then everything fell into place at once.
"Lena and Elena. Oh, that explains it. But damn, whoever named you both is one of a kind."
Elena covered her mouth with her hand. Her shoulders shook slightly, and a soft, muffled chuckle slipped out between her fingers.
"Yes," she said, when she had recovered. "We have heard that before."
"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean..."
"It is quite all right." Her eyes sparkled. "Our mother thought it was charming."
Alex rubbed the back of his neck with his good hand.
He looked down at his arm.
"I’d be very happy," he said, "if you healed it."
Elena’s smile deepened.
"Then please."
Alex took hold of his sleeve with his right hand and pushed it up to the elbow.
The skin beneath was ugly.
The swelling had grown. A deep, dark bruise ran from his wrist almost to the bend of his arm. Even looking at it made his stomach turn.
Elena’s breath caught softly.
Elena stepped forward and studyied the injury.
"It is a clean break," she murmured. "Both bones. It must have been very painful."
"It was... a little."
"Please hold it out, young master."
Alex tried.
He lifted his arm slightly, and a bolt of white agony shot from his wrist to his shoulder.
"Ngh..."
"Do not strain it."
Elena’s voice was soft and urgent.
"I can come to you."
Alex nodded.
"Okay."
She walked closer to him until she was much closer than he had expected. Closer than he thought anyone needed to be to examine an arm.
She was looking at his arm.
Then she was not. Her eyes rose slowly, and they met his.
Neither of them moved.
Alex realized he was holding his breath.
"Young master."
Her voice was low. Almost a whisper.
"If I may."
He did not understand at first.
Then her face tilted.
Her hand rose, and settled against the side of his jaw. Her eyes drifted half closed. And before he could say a word, her lips touched his.