"Poison? Young Master, there must be some mistake—"
"I don't have proof right now." Dalton forced down a hard swallow. Even half-effective, the poison had torn through his body, leaving him gasping as if suffocation itself were pressing down on him. "But that doesn't matter. The Becker family won't lift a finger unless I actually die."
Milis froze in place. The girl weighed whether she should deny it—or go all-out and finish Dalton off right here.
But the latter was far too radical. The fallout would be disastrous, and Milis would be exposed immediately.
Even if her status as a full member of the Brotherhood would be guaranteed, the Becker family would hunt her down. And they… were not so forgiving.
Worse still, she could fail. Dalton had already survived the poison she gave him.
Maybe he was tougher than she assumed. Maybe she couldn't even bring him down, let alone kill him.
So… was her mission already a failure? Was she doomed never to earn full membership?
"I didn't do it. I swear! It… it must've been the chefs. Yes, the chefs! You've seen how they glare at you every time—"
"Milis!" Dalton snapped. "No matter what excuse you spit out, I won't believe it. I know you poisoned me, and your lies are worthless."
Milis clenched her fists and lowered her head.
Should she do it now? Force herself to kill him?
Yes, maybe she'd been overestimating him. After all, he look powerless right now. He probably couldn't even fight back—
"I know what you're thinking, but stop!" Dalton cut her off. "My father couldn't care less if I lived in misery—but if I die? He'll go out of his way to act like the most loving father alive in front of everyone."
Immediately, the aura flowing around Milis's body subsided. She lifted her head, her eyes almost brimming with tears.
Dalton let out a heavy sigh.
Maybe she was a professional assassin, but that didn't erase the fact that she was still a teenager.
Her mental state was probably even more unstable than Milis from Dalton's previous life.
That was why, instead of striking fast, she hesitated.
"I won't report this to anyone." The words slipped out, and Dalton instantly realized how foolish that promise was. Nobody in this house would ever believe him anyway. "You can keep serving here, as my personal maid."
But at the very least, he needed to make sure Milis didn't kill herself before revealing who had ordered the assassination.
On the other hand, Milis might be more valuable than he thought.
"But knowing you might try again in secret… unsettles me."
Milis's face went pale. "No, I won't—"
"And I won't ever trust your word again, will I?" Dalton gave her a pitying look.
Once, she seemed capable of lying as easily as breathing.
But now? Panic had unraveled her completely.
"That's why I'm proposing a Blood Oath."
Her eyes widened.
The Blood Oath. The highest vow two people could make. By mingling their blood, they could bind themselves to conditions that neither could break.
And whoever broke it—their heart would explode on the spot.
"My request is simple: you will not kill me before I turn fifteen."
"Before you turn fifteen?"
"That's the deadline for your mission, isn't it?"
Milis tried to mask her shock—but failed. Her face went utterly blank. How did Dalton know?
The truth was: he didn't.
He was only gambling, guided by memory from his past life. Back then, when she'd been paralyzed during the assassination attempt, Milis had been agile enough to escape. But instead, she had killed herself on the spot.
Seeing her try to kill him much earlier this time, Dalton figured it must have been a long-planned scheme.
And Milis, who had failed to finish the job that night—might have met a far more terrible fate if she returned empty-handed.
Dalton staggered to his feet and picked up the knife from his food cart.
Milis immediately backed away warily.
"That's my condition. What's mine?" Dalton said.
Milis frowned. "Is it not enough that my position is secure?"
Of course not.
There were countless loopholes in a Blood Oath. And if Milis had enough resources to obtain that kind of poison, she could just as easily find ways to exploit the Oath's limits.
What Dalton needed wasn't conditional obedience—but unconditional loyalty.
He had to position himself not only as a forgiving master, but also a reasonable one.
"It's good enough for me. But… is it good enough for you?"
Milis bit her lip, lowering her head as if to argue—then swallowed her words.
She finally realized pretending to be innocent was useless now.
"My options are limited right now, but within twenty days, after the Soul AptitudeTest, things might change." Dalton shrugged. "Or… you could name something I can give you immediately.—"
"Ten thousand ducen."
Dalton paused, surprised. He'd been trying to deduce her motive for this assassination, but the truth was so much simpler.
"Are you sure that's all? Because that sounds—"
"Per day." Milis raised her head, eyes flashing with defiance. "An extra wage of ten thousand ducen, every single day. Can you agree to that?"
Dalton narrowed his eyes, reluctant. Ten thousand ducen wasn't even one percent of his monthly allowance—but every day? That would be three million ducen a month. An amount his current allowance couldn't cover.
"Hey, hey, I told you to ask for more, not rob me."
""That is my condition." Her voice was steady again, her unreadable mask restored. "Do you accept?"
Dalton gave a low snort, then smiled. He dragged the knife across his palm, letting the blood flow freely.
Extending the blade to Milis, he said:
"Let's seal it."
---
The silver-haired girl hurried down the grand mansion hallway.
Everyone who saw her immediately bowed their heads in respect—from servants, chefs, sparring partners, to even their military captain.
Her steps stopped at a place she hadn't visited since she was five.
The library.
Once, this had been her playground with her brother. She had even considered it an oasis. A place they could finally claim as their own.
But that was nine years ago. Too much had happened since then—their bond had grown strained, and her own schedule had become overwhelmingly busy.
And now she was back, to see the one who shared those memories with her.
Ever since she had been placed in the main sector—the part of the mansion reserved for the core family members—they had rarely interacted.
Still, she made sure to keep up with all the news about her brother.
How he'd repeatedly failed to awaken his aura. How, after his latest failure, he had locked himself away for nearly ten days.
And today, for some reason, he had left his room.
His destination? The library.
That made her both uneasy and worried.
Had despair driven her brother to drown himself in their past? Had failure degraded his mental state to the level of a child?
So she came herself to make sure.
"The Young Master requests not to be disturbed." A black-haired maid stood guard at the door.
"Are you daring to command me?" The girl, half-panicked, snapped.
The maid shook her head calmly. "I'm only relaying his request. Whether you honor it is up to you. But if I may advise, he isn't in the best state to be seen right now."
That only heightened her panic. "Move!" She shoved the maid aside, nearly toppling her, and twisted the doorknob.
Her brother was now seated at a reading table, absorbed in a classic, wood-bound book.
His feet were propped up. And… an open bottle of their uncle's favorite fermented wine sat beside him.
Dalton Becker noticed the door swing open without permission and was about to scold Milis for her carelessness.
But when he lifted his gaze from the book, he found a familiar face.
"Oh, long time no see, Selyse," he hiccupped.