"But before we begin, Master," I said, letting my tone carry a quiet reverence, "may I ask something minor? You called yourself the Herald of Eudenia—but surely that's a title, not the man. What name did the world first give you?"
My eyes held his, steady but respectful. Not pressing. Not threatening. Just... curious. After all, names have purpose. And I needed his to erase him.
The question hung in the air, sharp and clear, cutting through the tense silence of my room. Herald's expression, usually so impassive, now held a flicker of something unreadable—surprise? Annoyance? Intrigue?
I leaned on the instincts I'd picked up from all those Xianxia novels I used to binge in my past life. The main characters in those stories didn't shout to be heard—they spoke calmly, deliberately, like every word was a sword carefully drawn. They used reason, not volume. Wisdom, not pride. That's the tone I aimed for now. I wasn't trying to start a fight, I wanted them to listen. To really hear me.
