Chapter 287: You’re Strange, Jin
Aldric stared down at the crumpled form of his son.
The boy lay entirely motionless on the cold marble floor, a stark crimson trail of blood leaking from his pale lips and pooling slightly against the stone.
Aldric’s eyes immediately zeroed in on the iron key still clutched tightly in Jin’s unconscious fingers.
The Baron’s expression hardened into a severe, calculating scowl. He took a slow, heavy step forward, his boots echoing in the silent corridor, and reached down toward the boy.
"Just what are you trying to do, Father?"
The voice was a sudden, freezing breeze that sliced straight through the heavy tension of the hallway.
Aldric froze, his hand hovering mere inches from Jin’s shoulder.
He turned his head sharply. Standing a few paces down the shadowed corridor was Cassandra.
She was bathed in the pale moonlight filtering through the high windows, her arms crossed firmly over her chest. Her midnight-silk gown blended seamlessly into the darkness, but her icy grey eyes were locked squarely onto him, radiating an absolute, unyielding chill.
Aldric clenched his jaw, his latent mana flaring briefly in irritation at being questioned by his own daughter in such a tone.
"Shouldn’t you be in your chambers? You have early arrangements—"
"You still didn’t answer my question, Father," Cassandra interrupted. Her voice was entirely flat, stripped of any traditional deference.
She began to walk toward him.
Her steps were agonizingly slow and deliberate, the sharp clack of her heels echoing against the stone walls with a predatory rhythm.
She didn’t spare a single glance down at Jin. Her piercing gaze remained entirely fixed on Aldric until she came to a halt directly in front of him, aggressively invading his personal space and effectively placing herself as a physical barrier between the Baron and her unconscious brother.
"I was the one who gave him the key to the lower archives," Cassandra stated smoothly, though the words carried the undeniable weight of a warning. "Therefore, whatever he is doing, it is by my design. You do not need to pry into his affairs tonight."
Aldric’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, his aristocratic pride bristling at her sheer audacity.
"I wasn’t prying," he retorted, his deep voice rumbling with suppressed anger. "The boy collapsed in the middle of my hallway, bleeding from the mouth. I was simply—"
"Leave."
Cassandra didn’t even let him finish his sentence. She didn’t care about his excuses. She stared him down with a gaze so intensely cold that it seemed to freeze the very air in the corridor.
"I will handle him," she said, her tone leaving absolutely no room for debate. "Leave us, Father."
Aldric clenched his fists, his knuckles popping under the heavy strain of his suppressed anger.
He knew better than to go against her. Even though she was his daughter, and he the head of the house, he was acutely aware of the terrifying magical and political power she wielded.
If he pushed his luck tonight, she wouldn’t hold back, she would gladly freeze the blood right in his veins.
With a sharp, furious exhale, Aldric turned on his heel and stalked away.
Cassandra watched his heavy silhouette shrink until it was completely swallowed by the darkness of the corridor.
Once he was gone, the crushing, freezing pressure in the hallway dissipated slightly.
"Rose..." Cassandra said softly into the empty space.
The shadows stretching along the stone wall warped, and a figure materialized beside her. Draped in dark, silent leather, the shadow guard knelt in absolute submission.
"Bring him to my chambers," Cassandra ordered, her voice entirely devoid of emotion. Without another glance at the unconscious boy on the floor, she turned and walked away.
---
Inside Cassandra’s expansive, frost-warded bedroom, Rose carefully laid Jin onto the massive, silk-draped bed. The guard adjusted the pillows, pulled the heavy, fur-lined sheets over his shoulders, and then seamlessly vanished back into the shadows without a single sound.
Cassandra stood by the massive floor-to-ceiling window, staring out at the moonlit estate grounds.
"Mother..." she whispered into the quiet room.
A sudden, unbidden memory pierced straight through her icy mental defenses. She remembered a time when this manor wasn’t a freezing, paranoid tomb of political warfare.
She remembered the radiant warmth of her mother’s smile, the sound of her musical laughter echoing through the sunlit gardens.
She remembered what it felt like to just be a normal daughter, to play gleefully in the grass, to bury her face in her mother’s lap, and to fall asleep feeling completely safe.
Slowly, Cassandra turned her head, her piercing grey eyes locking onto the boy sleeping peacefully in her bed.
Jin. The one who had inadvertently destroyed all that peace.
It was immediately after his birth that their mother’s health had taken a violent, irreversible dive. A severe, incurable illness had taken root in her mana pathways, slowly withering her away until she finally crumbled into death.
Ever since that day, Cassandra had blamed him. She had needed a target, a tangible anchor to cope with the agonizing, suffocating grief of losing the only light in her life.
Logically, she knew he wasn’t at fault. She knew he was just a child, a baby who hadn’t asked for any of this tragedy.
She had blamed him anyway. Though she hadn’t truly hated him, but she had locked her heart away behind walls of absolute ice, refusing to soften for him, or for anyone else, ever again. And threw herself in relentless training. Earning the title of Ice Empress.
But now... things were shifting.
As she looked at him, tracing the sharp, mature lines of his pale face, that unfamiliar sensation flared up again.
Whenever she was close to him lately, a strange, persistent warmth bloomed deep within her chest.
It bypassed all her flawless wards, tugging at something entirely primal and buried. She didn’t know why it was happening, and she hated the vulnerability it forced upon her, but she couldn’t stop it.
Cassandra walked slowly across the plush carpet, coming to a halt at the edge of the mattress. She stared down at him for a long, silent moment.
Slowly, she reached out. Her cool, delicate fingers gently ruffled his blonde hair, brushing a stray lock away from his forehead with a tenderness she hadn’t shown to another living soul in a decade.
"You’re strange, Jin," she whispered softly.
Then, she leaned down, her midnight-silk gown rustling against the sheets.
Closing her eyes, she closed the final distance and gently pressed her soft, cool lips against his for a fleeting, quiet moment.
Then pulled back and frowned. Checking for that flutter, the tug, the warmth, to either intensify or die due to the act...
But it didn’t answer her.