The estate was quieter than usual, but Rosario's instincts screamed at him that silence meant nothing good.
He had just finished reporting the employee's betrayal to his father and expected, if anything, a brief reprieve. Instead, shadows seemed to stretch longer in the hallways, the guards' eyes sharper than ever.
Rosario hugged the map of the estate tighter in his hand, his pulse racing. Every corner could hide a threat. Every open door could be a trap.
Then he heard it—a faint scuffle, a whisper of movement behind him. He spun, heart leaping, but the corridor was empty.
"Hello?" His voice was low, shaky. "Anyone there?"
Silence.
A subtle metallic click echoed through the hallway. Rosario froze. A dagger gleamed for an instant as it struck the wall inches from his face.
He stumbled back, mind racing. This isn't a drill. This isn't a dream. They're testing me… or trying to kill me.
The sound of footsteps approached fast. Rosario ducked behind a pillar, holding his breath. His eyes darted around, searching for the source.
"Impressive," a cold voice whispered from the shadows. "For a rookie."
A figure emerged—one of the young adults in the family's extended household. He was smiling, but his eyes carried a lethal edge. Rosario recognized him from the book—someone who would betray the wrong person and vanish without a trace.
Rosario's stomach twisted. This is real. They're all dangerous.
The figure circled him like a predator, dagger twirling between fingers.
"You think surviving my father's little tests is enough? You're new here, little Rosario. You don't even know the rules."
Rosario's mind raced. He had to act fast. The stakes were life or death. His first instinct—Amera's instincts—kicked in: observation first, survival second, calculation always.
He feigned a stumble, then lunged toward the nearest wall-mounted candlestick, swinging it as the figure advanced. The dagger clashed against metal with a harsh ring.
A fight broke out—chaotic, desperate. Rosario's new body moved with clumsy speed at first, but his mind was sharp. He dodged, blocked, and countered, improvising with anything nearby.
Finally, the figure backed off, smirking. "Not bad… but this is only the beginning." He vanished into the shadows.
Rosario sank to the floor, chest heaving. Sweat slicked his hair to his forehead. Every nerve screamed. Every muscle ached.
He knew two things with perfect clarity:
One—he had survived.
Two—the Lobélia world would never, ever forgive weakness.
And deep down, buried beneath the fear and adrenaline, a spark of determination flared.
I will survive. I have to. No matter what they throw at me… I will live.