The principal's office felt heavy, the air thick with tension. Leo's gaze locked onto the vial on the table, the red hair strands glinting like blood under the flickering light. His voice cut through the silence, sharp and low. "So, I was the target in the hunting cage?"
Principal Veymoor's old eyes stayed calm, careful. "Maybe. Maybe not."
Leo frowned, annoyed. "What does that mean?"
Vaelem spoke up, setting his glasses straight, his voice steady. "We tested the hair, Leonhardt. It's from your bloodline, for sure. But whether it's yours or Lucian's… we can't say."
Leo's eyes blazed, his voice rising. "So, you're saying me or my brother was the target of some crazy terrorist group?"
The royal investigator leaned forward. His dark coat rustled, and his stare was like a knife. "You are correct, kid. One of you was their goal, and because of it, sixteen noble kids died." His words hit hard, making the room feel tighter.
