Survival Is an Art
Frozen behind the others, Evan stared - his gaze turning sharp, cold as deep water where sothing dangerous stirred while locked onto Julian D’Aurelius.
Funny how the son of old money walked in here today - like he thinks he stands a chance with the won already claid. Bold move, stepping into soone else’s world without an invite.
Every instinct in Evan scread to strike, to eliminate the threat imdiately. But he had just returned to Valemont; his foundation wasn’t yet stabilized. Fight in the open might scatter everything he built.
Sothing dark stirred inside him, a quiet urge to harm. Still, he held back. Patience took root instead. The right opening would co. He stayed still, watching. Timing mattered more than force.
Cold eyes on him, Julian shifted his face away just enough. The script called for it - pushing back, stirring trouble, making the hero look weak, all because the pages said so.
But Julian wasn’t foolish. Provoking the author’s favorite was a death sentence.
Better to stay quiet, observe, survive.
The group moved into the small courtyard, where Old Master De Dominicis lay on his sickbed. The stroke had robbed him of sensation on one side of his body, leaving him immobile and vulnerable.
Yet, seeing the visitors, his face lit up with genuine warmth. His eyes, though clouded with age, still carried the spark of recognition.
"Patriarch, you should rest. Your health is most important," one of the De Dominicis family mbers spoke gently.
"Yes. Divine Doctor Amara is here to treat you today; she will surely help you recover," another added with hopeful eyes.
Julian stepped forward, bowing slightly. "Grandfather De Dominicis, you must rest well. Once Amara finishes her treatnt, I’ll play chess with you." Relief washed over him—today’s mission was more than half complete. Now all that remained was to quietly watch Evan act the part of the all-knowing, perfect hero.
Evan, standing just behind, studied Old Master De Dominicis with calculated precision. As an unparalleled all-around expert, his observational skills were flawless. With a re glance, he could detect the slightest irregularities, and even without taking a pulse, he could infer the patient’s condition.
Next to him, Ryan De Dominicis, the only son of the De Dominicis family’s second elder, fidgeted slightly. Handso and slightly delicate in appearance, he fit the standard mold of the rich and charming second-generation heir. Talent-wise, he was above average among Valemont’s wealthy elite, but compared to Bianca De Dominicis, he paled in comparison.
Bianca’s brilliance in business had catapulted the De Dominicis family’s assets by eighty billion Euros in just three years. Her talent made Ryan seem insignificant, fueling his resentnt and eventually driving him to collude with outsiders to seize power. The result? Predictable failure.
Julian’s lips curved into a faint, sympathetic smile. Sigh... as a fellow villain, I can’t help but feel a little sorry for him.
Ryan, oblivious to Julian’s thoughts, struggled to maintain composure. He glanced at Evan, voice tentative. "Brother Evan... do you have confidence in treating my grandfather’s illness?"
Of course. The plan was clear: Evan would cure the patriarch, gain his admiration, and then naturally win over Bianca. Ryan would secure the family power he craved—but first, Evan had to eliminate the obstacles. And standing at the courtyard’s edge, Julian was the first.
Evan extended a hand gracefully, his expression serene and assured. "Fifty percent?" Ryan’s brow furrowed, taken aback by the seemingly low estimate.
"I an... the matter is under control," Evan said calmly, though his eyes glead with quiet disdain. Fools. Inviting a wolf into your ho and expecting to gain? Pathetic.
He already mapped out the sequence: first, Julian D’Aurelius would be neutralized quietly, then Ryan crushed, leaving Bianca to fall into his carefully laid path.
"As expected of Brother Evan," Ryan praised earnestly, flashing a polite smile. With allies like this, he thought, how could great things fail to happen?
Julian, standing slightly apart, simply folded his hands and observed. He was a villain in the story, yes, but a smart one. Every glance, every movent around him was another hazard to survive—and a lesson in patience.
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