The next morning, Rosario woke with a pounding headache and a stomach full of dread. The events of the previous day haunted him with unrelenting clarity—the blood, the gunshot, the icy approval in his father's eyes.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, flexing his hands nervously. The silk sheets slipped beneath him as he stood. Every step toward the window felt like walking into a storm he wasn't prepared for.
He approached the curtains and peeked outside. The Lobélia estate sprawled like a fortress, marble courtyards, black-iron gates, and guards stationed like statues, unflinching and watchful.
Rosario swallowed. Observation first. Survival first.
He moved quietly down the hallway, testing the mansion's rhythm. The butlers, the guards, the other children of the household—everyone had a role, and everyone knew exactly how to move without drawing the wrong attention. He had to learn their rules before they learned his weaknesses.
The kitchen was first. He watched the staff silently, noting who answered to whom and how the head chef scowled at a trembling maid. Even the slightest mistake could cost someone dearly.
Next, the library. Rows upon rows of books and ledgers, some detailing the family's legitimate businesses, others… darker matters. Rosario's eyes lingered on one ledger, the numbers dripping with the weight of transactions that weren't exactly legal. He froze, realizing the full scope of the world he had been thrown into.
By the time he returned to his room, Rosario's body ached with exhaustion—but his mind raced. He had begun to see patterns, hierarchy, and fear. Fear, he realized, was as powerful as any weapon in this house.
He sat on the edge of his bed, fingers gripping the sheets. I have to survive. I have to adapt. He flexed his hands again, feeling the strength that could one day become a tool… or a shield.
A knock at the door made him jump.
"Young Master Rosario," the butler said politely, though his eyes were unreadable, "your father requests your presence again. He wishes to discuss family matters."
Rosario's pulse quickened. But this time, he didn't crumble. He took a deep breath and straightened his back.
"Yes, I'll be there," he said, voice steady. Observation first. Survival first. Adaptation second.
And as he stepped into the hall, he realized the first lesson of the Lobélia household: in this world, hesitation was more dangerous than any gunshot.
He had to move carefully. He had to think carefully.
And above all… he had to survive.