Sunday – Markov Estate, Formal Garden Hall
The family was gathering for dinner.
Not the usual quiet ones.
This was official.
Silks. Gold trim. Hand-picked crystalware. A four-course threat.
Clara sat dressed in sharp emerald, sipping from her glass like it was blood.
Elias hadn't arrived yet.
Vincent stood behind Reginald's right shoulder—watchful as ever.
I entered last, as the "Second."
No greetings.
No eye contact.
Just position.
Reginald gave a silent nod. A gesture to sit.
But I could feel it.
A charge in the air.
Something was coming.
The Knife Beneath the Table
Halfway through the second course—seared duck, caviar glaze—Reginald finally spoke.
"There's been an incident."
No one moved.
"One of the security teams monitoring estate communications was compromised."
A butler entered, placed a sealed case at the end of the table.
Clara's eyes flicked to it.
Elias sat straighter.
I stayed silent.
Vincent opened the case.
Inside?
A sleek black blade.
Short. Tactical. Standard issue for estate guardians.
And embedded in the hilt…
A symbol.
Not the Markov crest.
Another family's mark.
I recognized it from surveillance files.
The House of Vale.
Lucian's family.
The Accusation
Reginald turned to me.
"Explain."
"I don't know anything."
"You've been outside our control for a year. Connections. Messages. Loyalties. Anything you've shared could have compromised us."
"I've said nothing."
"And yet the Vale family knew the timing of our last vote before the minutes were even archived."
"You think I—?"
"I think," Reginald said calmly, "that a Second who rises too fast attracts shadows."
Vincent didn't interrupt.
Elias didn't defend me.
Clara?
She smiled faintly.
"Perhaps we're giving him too much too soon."
The Challenge
I stood.
"If I were compromised, you'd already be bleeding."
Gasps.
Clara's glass paused mid-air.
Reginald's gaze was locked.
"Then prove it," he said.
"How?"
He nodded toward Vincent.
Vincent opened a drawer and laid a crimson-sealed envelope on the table.
"This is a scenario," Reginald said. "A manufactured crisis. A political mess. If you solve it within 48 hours—and prove your loyalty—your status remains."
"And if I fail?"
"You'll be removed from succession."
"Permanently?"
"No," he said. "Publicly and there will be no more freedom word in your vocabulary"
The Scenario
I opened the file in my room an hour later.
Code name: Crimson Requiem.
A fake corruption scandal involving one of our allies in the Energy Bureau.
Anonymous "witnesses."
Leaked financials.
Goal: Disarm the narrative, protect the family asset, expose the plant.
Clock ticking: 48 hours.
It was a live simulation—but played on a real board.
If I win, I prove I can shield the family's interests.
If I fail, I'm the liability.
Vincent's Visit
Later that night, Vincent stepped into my room.
He looked older.
More tired.
"They think this will break you."
"Will it?"
"Depends."
"On?"
He looked at me long.
"Whether you're still trying to be Jay… or ready to become a Markov."
Final Reflection
I stood by the window.
The estate was sleeping.
But I wasn't.
The clock was already counting down.
Crimson Requiem.
A test with no safety net.
A knife disguised as an opportunity.
They didn't want me to pass.
They wanted me to fight.
So, I would.