The training courtyard behind the east pavilion was usually empty at dawn.
Not today.
Britney Yun tightened the bandages around her wrists as she stepped outside. The air was cold enough to sting, but the sun was clear, clean, sharp — the sort of morning that normally energized her.
Not this time.
She stared across the courtyard, where a wooden staff leaned against the stone railing. She'd bought it herself years ago, when she'd decided she wanted to aim higher than simple presentations and polite applause.
Britney didn't like losing.
She didn't like surprises.
And she certainly didn't like not understanding something — or someone.
She picked up the staff and twirled it once, feeling its weight, its familiar balance. Then again. Then faster. Movements sharp, controlled, efficient. Force measured down to exact angles and pressure.
Her heartbeat steadied.
Her thoughts did not.
Jason Yun had ranked first.
Jason.
She blew out a breath that was almost a laugh — not mocking, but bewildered.
She'd expected tension this year. She'd expected Alex trying too hard, Jessy whining, Jane producing another steady performance. She'd even expected some newcomer family-brat to try to impress the elders.
But she hadn't expected Jason.
Jason, who used to swagger around the estate with the arrogance of someone who'd been handed everything and appreciated nothing.
Jason, who never trained.
Jason, who never listened.
Jason, who never cared.
Or so she thought.
Britney struck the air with the staff, movements crisp and controlled. The blow cracked through the courtyard.
"Where were you hiding all that?" she murmured.
She wasn't angry — that wasn't her way — but something inside her had shifted. A quiet awareness. A sharpened intuition.
If she didn't adjust now, she would fall behind.
She hated falling behind.
Britney paused mid-swing, brow lowering slightly.
There was no jealousy in her chest. No bitterness.
Just… curiosity.
And an odd flicker of respect.
She spun the staff once more, ending with a clean stop. Her breath fogged in front of her. Her pulse settled.
She had just reached for her towel when footsteps approached behind her.
Light. Controlled. Familiar.
She didn't turn. "You're up early."
Jason stopped several paces away, giving her space without needing to be told. A respect she hadn't expected.
"Couldn't sleep," he said simply.
Britney nodded once. "Big day tomorrow."
Silence stretched between them — not awkward, just full of things neither had reason to say out loud.
Britney finally turned to face him.
He looked calm. Too calm.
Not the calm of someone trying to appear composed.
The calm of someone who had already decided who he was going to be before anyone else did.
Britney studied him quietly. "You do know people are going to come after you now, right?"
Jason didn't flinch. "I figured."
"This family doesn't like sudden shifts." Britney rested the staff across her shoulders. "They'll tolerate talent. They won't tolerate someone they can't predict."
Jason shrugged lightly. "Prediction only matters if they can stop me."
Britney stared at him.
Not in shock.
Not in admiration.
Just… reassessment.
She knew ego. She knew bluster. She knew empty confidence. Jason's tone had none of those.
He spoke like someone stating weather conditions.
"You're different," she said plainly.
Jason didn't deny it.
He only asked, "Does that bother you?"
Britney let out a small breath, almost amused. "You think too highly of my ego."
He didn't smile, but his eyes warmed slightly.
Britney lowered her staff. "Just don't become sloppy. Nothing's more pathetic than a rising star that falls because they thought they were the sun."
Jason looked past her then — toward the mountains lining the horizon. His expression softened, barely noticeable.
"I'm not rising," he said quietly. "I'm catching up."
Britney's grip tightened on the staff.
She had no idea if he meant it humbly or ominously.
But she believed him.
Before she could respond, one of the estate servants jogged toward them, bowing quickly.
"Young Master Jason — the elders request your presence in the west study. They said it concerns the Phoenix Infrastructure Project."
Britney raised an eyebrow.
Jason's expression didn't change.
"Tell them I'm on my way," he said.
The servant bowed again and rushed back toward the building.
Britney rested the staff against her shoulder and studied him one more time.
"Jason."
He paused, looking at her.
"Don't underestimate them," she said quietly. "Not your family. Not the Son family. Not the people behind them."
Jason gave a soft nod. "I don't plan to."
She watched him leave the courtyard, steps steady, posture relaxed but focused — like someone who had already planned five moves ahead.
"Different," she murmured again, gripping her staff.
This time, the word held no confusion.
Just acknowledgment.
Jason walked into the west study knowing exactly what the elders wanted.
He hadn't even closed the door when Elder Yun Tian gestured for him to sit.
"Jason," he began, "we've received the Son family's additional documents regarding the Phoenix Infrastructure assignment. They want confirmation before sunset."
Jason sat calmly. "What kind of confirmation?"
"That you understand the expectations," Tian said. "This project isn't small. It will require weekly reports, on-site evaluations, and direct communication with three separate committees."
Another elder cut in, tone sharp. "And understand this: they are not hoping you succeed. They are watching for a mistake."
Jason nodded once. "I know."
The elders paused, surprised by the lack of protest, the lack of fear.
Yun Tian cleared his throat. "Do you have any questions before you begin reading through the brief?"
Jason scanned the documents. Fast. Efficient. Eyes moving with the precision of someone who already saw the structure beneath the chaos.
"Yes," he said finally.
They leaned forward.
"Is this everything?" Jason asked plainly. "Or is there a version they didn't send?"
The room went still.
The elder at the right spoke first, voice low. "…There may be additional files. But they weren't provided."
Jason closed the folder gently.
"They want me to trip."
The elders exchanged looks neither confirming nor denying — but their eyes said enough.
Jason stood.
"Then I'll walk carefully."
He bowed, a respectful but subtle move of confidence, and left the study.
As Jason walked down the hall, passing portraits of ancestors who judged from their gilded frames, his phone vibrated.
A message.
Encrypted channel.
"We'll deliver the missing files at dusk. Your room."
Jason's pace didn't change.
He slid the phone into his pocket, exhaled slowly, and looked down the long hallway toward the courtyard where Britney had been training earlier.
The board was shifting again.
He wasn't rising.
He wasn't falling.
He was moving.
And the rest of the house?
They were finally noticing.