Chapter 4: Even My Father Wanted Me Dead
Caelus followed Mira through the manor.
The hallway stretched endlessly before him, lined with portraits of men and women who had long since turned to dust. Their painted eyes followed him as he walked. Judging and measuring him.
He didn’t look at them.
He’d seen these faces a thousand times before. Each one a Patriarch or Matriarch of House Vespera. Each one a legend in their own right. Each one someone he would never measure up to.
The manor itself was silent.
An oppressive silence of a place that had witnessed too much. Generations of ambition. Generations of ruthlessness. Generations of people who would sacrifice anything to maintain their family’s power.
The walls were ancient dark stone. Carved with symbols he didn’t recognize. The torches cast long shadows that seemed to move on their own. The air was cold and heavy. Like the manor itself was breathing.
Mira walked ahead of him, her footsteps silent. She’d learned to move like a ghost in these halls. Probably out of necessity.
His eyes lingered on her hands. They were still trembling.
He thought about tomorrow.
The sword through his chest.
He shook his head. Focus on the present. One step at a time.
They stopped.
Before them stood two enormous black doors, taller than three men stacked on top of each other. They were carved with the same symbols he’d seen on the walls. The wood was so dark it seemed to absorb the light around it.
Beyond those doors lay the Patriarch’s study.
His father’s domain.
Caelus had been inside exactly once. When he was twelve. Aldric had called him in to tell him he expected better. That was it. That was the entire conversation.
Mira raised her hand to knock—
A calm voice came from inside.
"Enter."
The voice was simply... there. Effortless. As if the speaker didn’t need to raise their voice to be heard.
Mira stiffened.
Caelus swallowed.
Then he pushed open the doors.
The study was vast.
Bookshelves lined every wall, stretching from floor to ceiling. Thousands of volumes. Hundreds of scrolls. Stacks of reports and letters and maps piled on every available surface.
Everything was perfectly organized. Arranged by subject. By date. By importance. The kind of organization that took decades to achieve.
A massive desk dominated the center of the room. Carved from the same dark wood as the doors. Covered in papers. Pens. Inkwells.
And behind it sat Aldric Vespera.
His father.
The Patriarch of House Vespera.
Black hair, sharp as cut glass. Black eyes that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. A face so angular it could have been carved from stone. Everything about him was sharp. Precise. Dangerous.
He wore a dark coat, immaculately tailored, with a high collar trimmed in deep purple fur that framed his face like a predator’s mane.
The color was the only warmth in his appearance, and even that felt cold, like royalty’s claim rather than comfort’s embrace.
Aldric looked like a man who had never made a mistake and never second guessed himself.
He didn’t look up when Caelus entered. He just continued signing documents, his pen moving across the page with practiced precision. Page after page. Document after document.
Caelus stood in the center of the room and waited, hands at his sides, waiting for Aldric to acknowledge him.
It was a test. He knew it was a test. Aldric wanted to see if he would break or fidget. If he would speak without permission.
He didn’t.
Four years of paralysis had taught him patience the hard way.
Finally—
Aldric finished the document he was signing. Set down his pen. And looked up.
The room grew darker.
The shadows in the corners of the room seemed to deepen. The space between the torches became impenetrable. The darkness itself felt... aware.
When Aldric’s eyes met his, it felt like every shadow in the room was looking at him at once.
Caelus stood his ground.
Aldric’s expression was completely neutral.
Then he spoke.
"You slapped the Saintess."
"Yes."
Silence stretched.
"You accepted the Hero’s challenge."
"Yes."
Caelus felt his palms start to sweat. He didn’t wipe them. He just stood there, waiting.
Finally—
Caelus opened his mouth.
"She insulted my mother—"
"I don’t require your reasons."
Aldric’s voice was calm. Flat. As if he was discussing the weather.
"You accepted a Sacred Duel."
"Yes."
Another pause.
Then Caelus added: "A Vespera never backs down from a challenge."
Something flickered in Aldric’s eyes. Gone before Caelus could identify it.
Aldric looked at him directly. Fully. For the first time in years.
The pressure hit Caelus like a physical weight.
The air became unbearable. The floor groaned beneath his feet. His knees instinctively wanted to bend as his bones ached. His breathing became shallow.
He didn’t move.
He refused to move.
Aldric watched him. Assessing and measuring.
Then he spoke again.
"A Vespera does not fear stronger opponents."
His voice was calm and objective.
"We fear meaningless battles."
He paused.
"Strength without judgment is stupidity."
"Pride without purpose is suicide."
He leaned back in his chair.
"Cancel the duel."
"Because you think i’ll lose?"
Aldric kept reading the report.
"Because dying over a woman who despises you would embarrass the family."
Caelus thought, contemplating on the options.
He could.
He could walk away. Survive. Live to fight another day.
It was the smart choice. The logical choice. The choice that would keep him alive.
But—
He remembered the hospital. The wheelchair. The years of helplessness.
He remembered the people who had looked at him with pity. Who had whispered behind his back. Who had abandoned him when he was no longer useful.
He remembered Sara. Her trembling hands. Her tear-streaked face. The way she’d pushed him into traffic and he couldn’t do anything.
He refused to be that person again.
"No."
The word came out quiet, Steady.
The shadows in the room seemed to pulse. The air grew colder. Caelus felt a presence at the edge of his consciousness, something vast. Something ancient. Something that could crush him without effort.
He stood his ground.
Aldric looked at him without blinking.
The pressure only grew heavier. Caelus felt another crack spread across the marble beneath his feet.
His knees screamed. His instincts begged him to bow
.
He didn’t.
Then—
The corner of Aldric’s lips curved upward.
So slight Caelus wasn’t even sure it had happened.
Then Aldric spoke.
"Good."
The pressure vanished.
Caelus gasped involuntarily, sucking in air he hadn’t realized he was holding. His legs felt weak. His hands were shaking.
Aldric continued, his voice still flat. Unemotional.
"A Vespera never retreats because of fear."
He paused.
"If you had accepted because you feared death..."
His eyes met Caelus’s.
"I would have executed you myself."
He spoke of executing his own son with the same indifference he’d used to discuss paperwork.
A chill run down Caelus’s spine.
He’d just survived something far more dangerous than tomorrow’s duel.
Aldric lost interest immediately.
As far as Aldric was concerned, the conversation had already ended.
He picked up his pen and returned to signing documents.
"You may leave."
Caelus didn’t move.
His mind raced.
Should I ask for help? An artifact? Advice? Anything?
He’s my father. He’s the Patriarch. He has resources I couldn’t imagine.
He could—
He stopped himself.
If Aldric wanted to help him, he already would have. He’d tested Caelus. Caelus had passed. But passing a test didn’t mean he’d earned Aldric’s support.
Aldric had given him exactly what he needed: permission to exist.
Nothing more.
Caelus turned and walked toward the door.
The doors closed behind him.
Only then did he realize he’d stopped breathing.
He leaned against the wall, his legs trembling. His heart was pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears. His palms were slick with sweat.
Mira watched him silently.
After a long moment, she spoke.
"...Congratulations."
Caelus looked at her. Confused.
"For what?"
"You walked out."
She paused.
"No one refuses the Patriarch."
Caelus stared at her.
He chuckled.
It sounded far less confident than he’d intended.
He pushed off the wall and started walking back down the hallway. His legs felt weak. His mind was still spinning.
But now what?
He had less than a day before the duel. Less than a day to find a way to survive.
He thought about what he knew. What he had.
Knowledge. Memories of both lives. The plot of Extra to Villain. The weaknesses of every major character. The secrets of this world.
None of it would save him if he couldn’t put it to use.
He needed information...
He stopped walking.
One path led back to his room.
The other led toward the Vespera Archive.
A massive library of secrets. A repository of everything House Vespera had collected over centuries.
He turned away from his room.
Toward the archive.
Mira’s voice came from behind him.
"My lord? That’s not the way to your chambers."
"I know."
He kept walking.
"I have something I need to do."
She didn’t ask what. She just followed.
The hallway stretched before him, ancient and silent and full of shadows.
If strength couldn’t save him...
Then information would.
Fortunately...
He belonged to the one family that valued information above everything else.