Lillian stared at the smile on Leo's face, her brows knitting together almost unconsciously.
It wasn't the forced or polite, practiced smile he used when he didn't want people to worry. Nor was it the faint one he'd worn around Cassie earlier, when his mood had lightened just enough to feel less heavy.
This smile was different.
Her gaze turned serious as she studied him, unease and curiosity mingling in her chest.
When Leo had returned earlier, she had already heard through her own channels that he had awakened a life class—a seemingly useless one.
Knowing her son, knowing the weight he had carried since childhood, she had braced herself for the impact.
She had expected disappointment, perhaps quiet frustration—the kind he always buried deep, letting it eat away at him slowly.
She had already felt a quiet contentment when Cassie had managed to lift his spirits a little during their meal together. That alone had seemed like a small victory.
But this?
This wasn't mere relief.
There was something in his eyes now, a light she couldn't remember seeing in a very long time.
Excitement.
It unsettled her more than sadness ever had.
What had happened?
What had brought about this sudden, profound change in his mood?
Leo, completely unaware of the storm of thoughts brewing in his mother's mind, looked at her expectantly. There was no hesitation in his posture, no guarded distance.
Their relationship had never been warm in the conventional sense.
They had grown up side by side, each wrapped in their own grief—Leo burdened by the expectations placed on him as the son of a fallen hero, Lillian haunted by the loss of a partner from whom she had never truly recovered.
Neither of them was good at expressing what they felt.
But that didn't mean their bond was cold.
It was quiet, yet stable.
So there was no awkwardness between them.
When Leo made his request, it came easily, naturally, no hesitation in his voice.
Lillian blinked, then smiled.
"Alright," she said after a brief pause.
She didn't know what had changed, but she didn't want to question it. Whatever had lifted her son's spirits, she wanted it to last.
"Follow me."
Leo did.
They walked through the quiet halls of the mansion, their footsteps echoing softly as they passed rooms Leo rarely entered. Eventually, they stopped before a large door.
Lillian opened it.
They stepped inside.
The study.
Leo stiffened.
It was his father's study.
He hadn't been here in years—not since he was a child. Back then, the room had filled him with a mix of anger and resentment toward a man he had never truly known, a presence that had felt heavier than absence itself.
He had avoided it ever since.
For his mother, it was different.
As a child, he remembered seeing her come here often with red-eyed, silent tears on her cheeks when she left.
Of course she still visited now, but the pain had softened into something quieter. The room no longer made her cry. It simply held memories.
Warm ones.
The study looked exactly as Leo remembered: the desk, the shelves, the faint scent of old paper and polished wood.
Yet he felt none of the old emotions.
Only curiosity.
Lillian walked toward a bookshelf.
Leo watched as she reached out and pulled on an unremarkable book.
A soft mechanical sound followed.
Gears turned.
The bookshelf slowly shifted aside, revealing a dark passage behind it.
Leo stood there, stunned.
All his life, he had lived in this mansion.
And yet, this was the first time he was learning it concealed a hidden underground facility.
Without explanation, Lillian stepped inside.
The passage lit up automatically, revealing a staircase leading downward. After a moment of hesitation, Leo followed.
They descended the long staircase, and Leo couldn't help wondering how many other secrets their house held.
It wasn't entirely out of the question, after all the mansion was absurdly large, with plenty of rooms he had never visited. More secret places like this wasn't impossible.
Still, it caught him off guard.
As they went deeper, his curiosity grew.
"What is this place?" he finally asked.
"An underground bunker," Lillian replied calmly. "Your father had it built when the house was constructed."
She paused for a moment before continuing.
"It was meant to serve as protection, in case of danger."
Her voice softened slightly.
"It never got the chance."
The stairs ended before a massive steel door.
Lillian stepped forward, placed her hand on a panel, and after a brief scan, the door opened with a heavy mechanical groan.
Bright light spilled out.
Leo's eyes widened.
The space beyond was enormous, an open area bathed in clean white light. The walls, floor, and ceiling were layered with reinforced metal. The air felt dense, unyielding.
Leo instinctively knew that even an awakener who had undergone their second advancement wouldn't be able to leave a mark here.
Lillian walked in. Leo followed.
"This will do," she said. "You wanted to see my skills. We'll use this place."
She reached up, gathering her long hair into a ponytail.
In the same fluid motion, her white dress vanished, replaced by a form-fitting dark combat suit. A sheathed sword appeared in her hand.
Inventory abilities.
Leo wasn't surprised—every awakener had access to them, though most needed spatial gear to expand the limited storage. His attention was fixed on her.
She turned to him.
"What kind of skill do you want to see?"
Leo frowned slightly.
What kind?
Truthfully, he didn't know.
He just wanted to test something—to confirm a theory.
"Anything," he said after a moment. "An attack skill, if possible."
Lillian nodded.
She paused, considering.
If she had known what Leo was truly trying to do, she might have laughed it off as a naive fantasy. Skills were the lifeline of an awakener. They weren't something you simply learned by watching.
But ignorance, as they say, was bliss.
After a brief moment, she made her choice.
"Alright," she said. "Watch carefully."
She stepped forward.
One hand rested on the sheath. The other gripped the hilt. Her legs planted firmly against the ground, posture low and coiled, like a sprinter at the starting line.
Leo's eyes sharpened.
He activated Analyze.
Her breathing slowed.
Then—
She moved.
Too fast.
Leo's vision barely caught her silhouette as she vanished from where she stood. The next instant, a sharp flash cut through the air.
A clean, lethal arc.
The pressure hit him a heartbeat later.
Leo's hair stood on end. His entire body screamed danger. He knew with absolute certainty that if he had been the target, he would have died before realizing it.
Lillian sheathed her sword and walked back calmly.
"This is Quick Strike," she said. "It's a basic speed-focused attack skill, but very efficient in getting the job done."
She continued explaining.
Leo didn't hear most of it.
His mind was flooded.
Information poured in, fixing itself into his memories as if it had always belonged there: stance, weight distribution, muscle tension, breath timing, energy manipulation, the precise moment intent turned into motion.
His heart pounded.
It was nothing like scanning furniture earlier.
So his theory was right.
Observing the process was far better than seeing the finished result.
Then, finally, the notification appeared.
[ Knowledge on the skill Quick Strike has increased. ]
[ When sufficient understanding is accumulated, the skill will be unlocked. ]