The moon hung like a silver coin above Kukuroo Mountain, casting its soft light over the Zoldyck estate. Inside the vast, ancient mansion, a storm brewed—not of assassins or enemies, but of grudges, egos, and… family politics.
Inside the Meeting Room:
Zi Po Nian stood at the head of the long obsidian table, her expression colder than the tiles of the Zoldyck crypt. One could almost hear the ticking of a time bomb beneath her calm voice.
"Now you understand, don't you?" she said, eyes scanning the room like a hawk seeking out prey. "From today onward, I don't care if you have to crawl backward or dig a tunnel—don't bump into Master Roy. It's better to fall off the mountain than to run into him."
The butlers—trained killers all—sweated like schoolboys. No one dared to lift their heads. Everyone remembered what happened to Wutong.
The parasol tree, once the proud protector of the young masters, had been turned into Roy's one-move practice dummy. And now… he was bedridden, with bones like broken chopsticks.
Someone shuddered.
"Understood," they all said in terrified unison.
With a crisp clap of her gloved hands, Zi Po Nian declared, "Meeting adjourned."
The doors swung open, and the line of elite servants left in quiet haste, like a funeral procession.
Only Wutong remained, slumped on his knees beside a chair, like a defeated general left behind on a ruined battlefield.
"Zi Po Nian… Master Jeno… and Master Roy…" he tried to speak, voice raspy with shame.
"Enough," she cut him off with a glance sharp enough to cut silk. "You still have the strength to gossip? You should be thanking the heavens Roy didn't crush your spine entirely."
She gave him one last sidelong glance. "The master has better things to do than deal with you. If you want redemption, heal… and serve with your life."
"I will," Wutong said, fists clenched. "Tell the master… I'll train harder. I'll become someone worthy of the Zoldyck name again."
Zi Po Nian sighed, expression softening for just a second. But deep inside, she already knew: Roy was a different breed altogether. He wasn't just "strong." He was a walking natural disaster with blind eyes and a sharp tongue.
Midnight, Zoldyck Manor—Jeno's Room
Jeno couldn't sleep.
He tossed. He turned. He rolled like a rotisserie chicken. But no matter how he twisted himself in his sheets, one image haunted him:
Roy's unbothered expression as Wutong went flying like a cannonball.
His cool voice.
That subtle mocking smile.
"Damn brat!" Jeno exploded, leaping to his feet and pacing like a caged beast.
"He doesn't like me, fine! But why the hell does he laugh and joke with Grandpa like they're best pals? This is blatant favoritism! I raised him too!"
His fury reached boiling point.
"No! I've had it! I'm asking the old man myself!"
Maha Zoldyck's Hut
Jeno burst into the room, full of fire and storm. But the sight before him nearly made him choke.
Old Man Maha was reclining in a squeaky rocking chair, watching anime on an ancient CRT television, one hand lazily fishing popcorn from a wooden bowl.
"…Grandpa, are you serious?"
Without even blinking, Maha drawled, "Disturbing an old man's anime time in the middle of the night? Jeno, you've really lost all sense of decency."
Jeno face-palmed. "You left the door open on purpose! You knew I was coming!"
Maha grinned toothlessly.
"You're not mad because Roy hates you. You're mad because he likes me."
Jeno growled. "You keep saying he 'likes' you. You sure you didn't… bribe him or something?"
Maha smirked.
"I may have… deposited a small sum into his account."
Jeno narrowed his eyes.
"How small?"
Maha lazily waved a hand.
"Just the interest. Of one hundred years."
"WHAT?! One hundred years of savings?! You—! You never even gave me 5 jenny to buy ice cream as a kid!"
"Exactly," Maha said, still grinning. "You're not as cute."
Jeno's face darkened. "You mean to tell me you gave Roy a third of your fortune just because he called you 'Great-great-grandpa'?"
"He called me 'respected elder whose wisdom transcends mountains.' That's culture, Jeno."
Jeno collapsed into the nearby chair, emotionally devastated.
"You're the real traitor, old man…"