Change the way you look at things and the things you look at change
.....
This man basically told me,
"I'll grant your wish but your trip to hell is still happening."
I looked sideways. The priest guy and my otherworldly sister figure both seemed weirdly excited about what's coming next.
The priest clearly had an agenda aiming for something, though what exactly, I had no clue. And this lore girl? She looked way too confident about me getting booted from... wherever I was.
Seriously, what did Lynn do to her?
My head was spinning.
Tension buzzed under my skin, sweat starting to bead as an invisible pressure wrapped tighter around me.
I glanced at Elda.
Still stiff as a rock. Classic.
I usually make screwed-up decisions during critical moments, but this... this felt different.
"Oh boy. Here we go."
I exhaled sharply and locked eyes with the so-called father figure.
"Actually... I have no idea what to ask you" I said, my voice wavering just slightly.
"But if there's one thing,I'd like to be cleared of the label... the tag of being a killer."
I took a breath.
"You see… fatherrr..."
The word caught in my throat like a fishbone. I hesitated not out of fear, but principle. He wasn't my father. Not really.
"I want to know what exactly happened. The truth.
If you could help me with that, I'd be... genuinely grateful, father."
Dawn's expression didn't shift much but something behind his eyes hardened, like stone cracking deeper under pressure.
"You seem conflicted in your thoughts," he said coolly.
"But that isn't my concern."
"Sadly, neither I nor your sister is interested in having our faces shamed twice."
I gave a slow, tired smile at that.
"Well... that was unexpected. So this family's full of... irrationals, I guess."
But I barely got the last word out before it hit me,a pressure so intense, so sudden, it felt like the sky had decided to crush me.
I didn't collapse completely but my knees hit the floor. Hard.
Every muscle screamed. My breath caught.
That was all I could do, kneel and endure.
The priest guy let out a sharp hiss-laugh, like he was enjoying the show.
But Dawn,he turned and glared.
One look and the priest silenced himself immediately, covering his mouth with a hand in a mock-polite gesture.
And my so-called sister?
She looked... pleased.
Like this was some twisted justice playing out in real time.
Truly, a fu...cked up family.
I didn't have to say it my face said it all.
Dawn stood up slowly,Deliberately. Each step he took forward felt like thunder in my chest.
He loomed over me now. Close enough that his shadow wrapped around me.
It was like I was under his mercy and still, I refused to move.
No. I needed an answer.
Not a spectacle.
I clenched my fists, gathered every bit of strength left in this failing body.
"Come on... mister," I said, my voice cutting through the air.
"Just say 'yes' or 'no.'
Then we'll go our separate ways.
What's with this performance?
Why show off strength when it's not even needed?
And then, through sheer will, I stood. Shaking, but standing.
I met his eyes. Unflinching.
"Can or can't?"
"Which is it?"
Dawn didn't answer immediately.
He just stared at me with eyes like obsidian, unreadable and ancient.
The silence stretched too long, thick enough to choke on.
For a second, I thought he might actually be impressed.
Then he spoke, voice low, almost disappointed.
"You stand," he said.
"But not because you are strong. You stand because you are desperate."
He stepped even closer, his presence cold and suffocating.
"And desperation… is not a virtue.
It is a flaw. One that gets people killed. Again."
Why is it always the same with these so-called father figures?
All muscle, no thought.
They hold you down, throw around some half-baked philosophy, and expect you to just give in.
Well, think again, Father of Lynn. I'm not buying whatever lesson you're trying to teach.
I actually had a bit of respect for him a minute ago but that's gone now. Straight from one to zero.
"Save your nonsense for someone already dead" I said, my voice steady.
"Because like someone just reminded us I'm still very much alive.
But pretending to know the truth when you don't is foolish too, wouldn't you agree?"
I looked directly at the priest.
"Whether you decide I'm a killer or not is up to you. But for my own sake, I need to prove my innocence."
I paused, then added with conviction,
"According to your theory, divine punishment should've taken care of me by now. The fact that I'm still standing don't you think that means there's still some truth left to uncover?"
"And let me say this clearly if the verdict goes your way, I'll carry my share of shame without complaint."
Dawn's sudden response startled me.
"You don't make the decisions here, son. I do. And I'm making one right now," he said, voice cold and final.
"You're banished from this house starting at sunrise."
I caught a flicker of amusement on the priest's face, like he was enjoying a private joke.
And my so-called sister? She was practically glowing, smirking like it was the happiest day of her life. Guess holding in joy isn't her strong suit.
Why are these people like this?
But the handsome SOB yeah, my new father wasn't done yet.
"You can keep your version of the truth. I don't have time for it" he snapped.
"But for the sake of this family's name, I'll allow a second trial.
Tomorrow morning. Not for you but for the name of the Blakes."
He turned away, leaving the words hanging.
"Let's see who the irrational one is when the sun rises."
I barely managed to stand,my legs were still shaking.
Magic's no joke, that much is clear.
But this? This is just unfairly dramatic.
His son got traumatically killed, somehow clawed his way back to life, and this bastard didn't offer a single kind word. Nope just a cold boot out the door like I'm yesterday's mistake.
And my brand new sister? She's been wishing me a trip to hell since the moment we met.
Let's not forget the priest who looks way too fancy to be called a priest watching it all unfold like he bought front-row seats.
This is honestly one hell of a messed-up story.
I can't believe Lynn had to deal with this level of idiocy across two lifetimes.
Just thinking about the kind of patience that takes is starting to scare me.
I glanced back at Elda.
She looked... conflicted.
Well, at least someone isn't rooting for my downfall.
Then I looked at my sister-figure and asked,
"What was your name again?
Lore, was it?"
"You doesn't need to know anymore."
What a arrogant girl.
I shot a look at the priest. He gave me this pitying smirk, like he was savoring every second.
"See you tomorrow, Mr. Fredrick" I said flatly.
"Sure, Master Lynn," he replied, all smug and polished.
He knows how to throw verbal jabs,
I'll give him that. But they don't land.
I'm not Lynn, dumbass.
I turned and started walking away, heading for my room or at least, I thought I was.
Elda stayed behind, just watching me go. I didn't say anything to her.
Didn't feel like it.
As I wandered the halls, I realized I'd forgotten the way to my room.
Didn't matter. I just kept walking, letting the frustration guide me.
"Oh man," I muttered to myself,
"Why are villain arcs always so damn one-sided?"
I kept walking,though at this point, it was less "walking" and more "roaming aimlessly in elegant despair."
The Blake estate wasn't just big.
It was massive.
The kind of mansion that echoed when you coughed and had enough corridors to hide an army.
Marble floors, high archways, ornate doors that all looked the same,it was a maze wrapped in luxury.
And me? I was just a confused guy trying to find his room before someone decided to slap more trauma on me.
At first, everything was well-lit.
Golden chandeliers hung high above, their soft glow casting perfect shadows against finely polished stone. Expensive carpets lined the halls. Every step I took landed on the softest threads money could buy.
But the lights thinned out the farther I wandered. The warmth of the main hall faded. The grand turned cold.
Soon, I was walking through corridors dressed in silence. Just a faint glimmer from wall-mounted lamps every few meters. The kind of silence that made you wonder if the walls were listening.
I passed a hallway with floor-length mirrors. Ornate, flawless.
"Was that shadow mine?"I thought.
"Nope. Don't look. Don't look again. Just keep walking."
Then I turned a corner and everything changed.
The corridor narrowed. The walls here were darker, made of sleek black marble veined with silver.
Still beautiful, still pristine, but colder. Less like a home, more like a warning. The air had a chill to it.
A stillness that didn't belong.
That's when I saw her.
At first, I thought it was a statue.
The figure was standing perfectly still in the middle of the hallway. Not even a breath. She wore a crisp maid's uniform, tailored to perfection.
Every button neat.
Dark hair just brushing the tops of her shoulders, razor-straight.
Her face partially shadowed.
Then she moved.
No warning. No sound. Just motionlike
fluid and sudden, like wind slicing through silk.
And then I saw her eyes.
Red.
More like someone with sharingan.
Not glowing like a monster, but deep. Focused. Unblinking. The kind of eyes that don't ask permission to hurt you.
In her hands were two long, slender pins shaped like oversized sewing needles, but honed to killing points.
Not decorative. Not for style.
"These were tools of assassination,right?"
I froze, one foot forward, mouth half-open.
"Okay. Okay okay okay.
So the house has a fantasy assassin maid. That's fine. Totally fine.
Who doesn't want to be ambushed by a silent red-eyed killer in a hallway that probably costs more than my whole life?"
She came at me.
A blur of black and silver. One pin jabbed for my shoulder I ducked too slow. It grazed my sleeve. The other sliced across where my chest had been a second before.
I stumbled back, heart hammering, nearly tripping over the hem of a carpet.
"Oh.....DAMN"
Clink.
Two daggers caught the next strike midair.
Elda.
She stepped between us like a falling curtain, calm as ever, holding her daggers in a reversed grip.
Late forties, modest maid uniform and the kind of quiet grace that said
I've been doing this longer than you've been alive, kid.
She didn't look at me. Didn't say a word. Just locked eyes with the assassin.
And for the first time since entering this cursed hallway, I let out a breath.
They moved slowly at first. Testing.
The assassin lunged no wasted motion. Elda turned on the ball of her foot, raising one dagger to deflect the first strike, her wrist angling perfectly. The clash was sharp and exact.
"Oh.
Oh this is anime.
I'm in a full anime showdown in a hallway, and I am the useless side character in the background."
The maid spun on her heel, the pins flashing under the low light.
She aimed for Elda's flank,
Elda sidestepped cleanly and parried with her offhand dagger, flicking the blade with a single rotation of her wrist.
Then they burst into speed.
Strike—parry. Feint—riposte.
The assassin ducked low, pin coming in from beneath. Elda jumped, spinning mid-air and blocking both pins in an X with her daggers.
She landed and pushed forward. Her blade danced with veteran confidence, an older style -efficient, minimal, ruthless.
The assassin backflipped down the corridor, skidding into a slide and launching both pins like darts.
Elda deflected one in midair with a high, arching spin. The second missed by inches and stabbed into the wall right beside my head.
"AHHH
okay okay– I get it, hallway's off-limits
BUT ISN'T THIS TOO MUCH?
Elda closed the distance in three swift steps, forcing the girl back.
The assassin girl pulled a hidden third pin from her sleeve and reversed her grip.
They clashed again metal kissing metal in bursts of sparks, the blades a blur of silver arcs under cold light.
Okay, Elda just parried a flying pin while airborne. I'm not even going to question physics anymore.
The assassin girl launched forward one final time but Elda anticipated it.
She stepped into the attack, blocked one arm, twisted her elbow up, and brought her dagger down, locking the girl's wrist. The impact echoed.
The maid didn't cry out. Just stared. Then retreated back into the shadows swift and soundless.
Gone.
The silence that followed was thick.
My breath was loud in my ears.
Elda didn't turn. She kept staring into the dark, waiting for something else.
I leaned against the wall, trying not to slide all the way down it.
"Note to self," I muttered.
"In this mansion, never take a wrong turn unless you're ready to die dramatically."
Still catching my breath,
I glanced at Elda. She hadn't said a thing. But I felt the shield she just threw over me like a wall of steel.
I didn't thank her.
Not yet.
I just stood there with her, trying to believe that I hadn't imagined any of it.
After a few long, quiet minutes, Elda began walking. She didn't say anything just gave me a look that said, come along, and I followed.
Well, more like got escorted.
I still hadn't recovered fully.
My legs were jelly, my heart somewhere between fight-or-flight and "scream into the void."
Here I thought dogs were scary. But no, turns out girls with knives and deadpan eyes are the real nightmare fuel.
Elda walked ahead with the posture of a knight and the patience of a mother who's seen her kids break the same expensive vase many times.
The silence between us was weirdly comforting after all that slicing and flipping and near-death dramatics.
When we reached my room finally,
she paused at the doorway.
"You should take care of yourself more from now on," she said, tone calm but definite.
"From tomorrow, I won't be here to look after you anymore."
That hit harder than I expected.
I turned to her, confused.
"Okay… but what the hell just happened?"
She raised an eyebrow, almost like the question bored her.
"Things like this happen in this house every day. In the past, you were unaffected by it.
Now you are. That's it. Simple."
"Right. So what you're telling me is... people just casually try to kill each other here, daily? And this is supposed to be some kind of majestic noble household?"
I threw my hands up.
"Truly a wonderful place for peaceful living. I feel so safe."
"You shouldn't think that way," she replied coolly.
"The only difference now is that you're powerless. The youngest son of the Blake house didn't used to be this... helpless."
"Kind words, Ms. Elda," I muttered. "Really comforting."
She didn't laugh. Of course not.
Just turned away.
"Then... good night," I added, because it felt like the only line left to say.
She didn't reply.
Just kept walking down the hall quiet, steady and terrifying in her own way.
She gave me a look somewhere between 'you'll live' and 'good luck dying.'
After Elda left, I just dropped onto the bed and closed my eyes.
Lynn was right.
This world really does feel like it was built to set people up and strip them of all control just to make them feel helpless.
I thought I could slide through it all quietly, without causing much commotion… just be free, for once in my life.
Maybe even do Lynn a favor while
I was at it.
But today made one thing clear
people are either irrational by nature or the situation pushes them into becoming thoughtless.
I got up from the bed and walked to the bathroom, staring into the mirror.
And the face staring back?
It's got all the handsomeness one could ask for but it's missing something
very vital and needed.
Happiness.
Sometimes, mirrors reflect more than just your face. Right now, it looked like my old appearance was bleeding through,overlapping this new one.
"Oh man… this body's got mental problems too."
I splashed water on my face several times and looked at the mirror again.
Everything looked normal now… except the eyes.
Still the same as before brownish golden.
"Maybe the whole easygoing tactic doesn't work here. Guess it's time to get the hell out and figure out what's really going on."
Because when you're getting kicked out of your house, you'd better have money on your side.
Otherwise, it's the same as death.
I took a deep breath.
Tomorrow's going to be a busy day.
I told Lynn I'd try to grant his wish.
He's probably laughing at me right now, thinking
"Told you… you're not cut out for this crap."
Oh God…
The trial itself won't be the real issue since I'm not Lynn.
The real problem is dealing with these mindless people who thinks they know the truth without even knowing what's real.
Maybe there's a reason behind all this.
Maybe it's because someone just woke up from the dead and they're all too scared to think straight.
But treating me like trash without even confirming whether I did what they accuse me of?
Even people who've done far worse get a fair chance to defend themselves.
And me? I get one shot… out of pity.
Oh, Lynn's father…
You'll learn something about how to treat your own children from now on, you cold, insensitive bastard.
No matter who shows up tomorrow,
I'll teach them all something important:
"If you play with fire, you'd better expect to get a little burned too."
"Tomorrow I going to change this damn plot around for good."