{Selene's POV}
Just as the duel was going on.
My gaze drifted upward, toward the upper balcony, where a lone figure stood silently watching the whole spectacle.
That boy.
The slave.
The one Ferick brought in a month ago.
At first glance, I thought he was just another pitiful soul, crushed under the wheels of fate and dragged into chains like the rest.
But then… When I saw him stand up to that bastard. My husband.
"Hey, clean this."
"I won't."
The memory came back, uninvited.
He hadn't shouted.
Hadn't grovelled.
Just stood there, eyes calm and unreadable, like a man used to giving commands, not receiving them.
That wasn't defiance born from stupidity.
It was something else.
Just calm resentment.
Almost… calculated.
There wasn't any ounce of fear in him.
None.
Only contempt.
"Yielded."
Hmm?
Sir Hadric's voice pulled me from my thoughts.
I turned my head, only to see Renard straightening with that insufferable smirk of his, his blade lightly tapping Hadric's side.
He had won.
Not bad.
Still a brat, but not entirely without merit.
I glanced toward the steward.
"Take Lord Renard inside. Get him something to eat and keep him company."
Away from me, preferably.
I had no interest in entertaining cocky noble brats who mistook their arrogance for charm.
She bowed, and as Renard disappeared with her, I turned again.
Back to him.
"Brandon."
The words escaped my lips almost instinctively.
He stood at the balcony, arms folded, the light catching his profile.
And oddly enough… his gaze met mine.
Steady and Calm.
I don't know why I said it.
"Come here."
He looked surprised for a moment, brows lifting, the faintest furrow on his forehead, but then nodded and began walking.
There it was again.
That strange, quiet confidence.
He carried himself like… like he belonged in every room he walked into.
Even as a servant.
He didn't shrink like the others.
Didn't avert his gaze like a kicked dog.
There was something in the way he moved, like a man who had once stood above others.
He had that aura, someone who refused to kneel.
When those Duskwoods had come to visit, I decided to test that arrogance.
"I don't care how. But spoil tonight's dinner."
I wanted to see his reaction.
Would he cower? Flinch? Ask for forgiveness like the rest?
But what I saw instead…
Was the barest flicker of surprise.
Then… a subtle knowing smile
He tried to hide it, but he couldn't hide that from me.
And that smile…
It belonged to someone who understood the game.
It shocked me. Not outwardly, of course. I wore my usual face. But inside?
I was intrigued.
Just what are you, Brandon?
He got my interest.
But.
As if that layer of mystery wasn't enough.
That night… after he successfully ruined the dinner.
I saw him again.
But that time—
Beating Caleb.
I stood there, heels clicking faintly as I approached the hallway.
And what I saw...
Caleb's face smashed into the cold marble pillar.
His pride, crushed. His body, twisted. Blood on the floor.
By him.
That boy.
Why is that boy beating him.
Though I could easily guess that, but the real question is.
How?
The word hung in my throat, refusing come out.
I couldn't understand it.
How could a normal boy, who hadn't even awakened his path, could beat Caleb.
Yes, Caleb is arrogant. Reckless, even.
But he's not weak.
He had trained. Practiced. He had years of experience.
And even awakened his Essence Path.
But that boy.
Brandon.
He shouldn't have been able to lay a hand on Caleb, let alone throw him around like a ragdoll.
So, I appraised him.
My essence brushed over him like a veil, peeling away illusions, masks, lies.
And the result?
Nothing.
Not even a flicker of Essence.
Not a single thread pulsing in his veins.
He hadn't awakened.
Not Body.
Not Mind.
Not Soul.
Not Elemental.
Nothing.
A blank slate.
And yet…
He broke Caleb's stance like a seasoned duelist.
Dodged, countered, struck with precision.
Like someone who's fought before.
Like someone who's killed before.
The question clawed at the back of my mind like a splinter:
How?
How can someone without even the bare minimum Essence push a trained noble heir into the floor.
It defied the laws of our world.
The system. The structure.
It was never heard of.
Unawakened were weak. That was the rule. The foundation of our realm. Without a path, you had no future.
But him?
He's abnormal.
I finally admitted it to myself.
And so… I took precautions.
I ordered my most trusted guard, someone who owed me her life, to look into him.
His name. His history. Anything.
But when she returned…
"Milady, the only thing I could find at the auction house was his name: Brandon."
I waited.
Waited for more.
But nothing came.
No family name. No place of birth. No sealed records. No wanted posters. No one inquired about him. No trace of him ever existing.
No background.
No connections.
No one who claimed him.
Not a single soul who knew his face.
Just nothing.
It's as if he appeared out of thin air.
Like a ghost.
From that day onward, I began watching him.
Not overtly.
But always within the corner of my gaze.
I needed to understand him.
Why was someone like him here?
Just what was he hiding beneath that quiet tongue?
What does he want?
Was he here by chance?
Or was there a reason?
A purpose?
A mission?
I had to know.
To assess whether he was dangerous… or not.
Because that would determine how would I approach him.
Whether to bring him closer—as a tool, a weapon, an ally.
Or crush him quietly, before he turns into a threat I could no longer control.
Just as I was running my trail of thoughts about making a decision.
A shadow loomed beside me and came a low, respectful but not dismissive voice.
"Yes, Milady."