In the Headmistress's office, Percy and his aunt sat facing each other in a silent standoff, the air between them thick with unresolved tension. Their unyielding eye contact was more than just a battle of endurance—it was a war of wills, a test to see who would break first. The weight of their unspoken history pressed down on the room, an invisible force neither was willing to acknowledge just yet.
The butler, ever the composed observer, moved with quiet efficiency, placing teacups and lemon cookies between them as if such simple gestures could thaw the ice that had settled over the space. His actions, though small, were a silent plea for civility—an attempt to introduce some sense of normalcy to what was clearly anything but.
Minutes dragged on like hours. Percy fought to keep his eyes locked on hers, but the burning sensation creeping into his vision was relentless. (Damn it... can't... keep... my... eyes... open... for much longer!) He grit his teeth in frustration, knowing that blinking meant conceding even the smallest fraction of control.
And then it happened. A single blink. A brief moment of weakness.
His aunt immediately seized the opportunity, shifting her gaze downward as she delicately picked up her tea. "Why are you here, Percy?" she asked, her voice cool, detached—each syllable laced with an unspoken warning.
As Percy rubbed his sore eyes, the butler, always perceptive, placed a bottle of saline solution in front of him. It was a small act, but one that didn't go unnoticed. Even in a battlefield of words and unspoken grievances, the butler had chosen a side—subtly, without fanfare.
(System, are the eyedrops safe?) Percy inquired warily.
{Scanning… Scan complete. No foreign substances detected.}
With his suspicions momentarily eased, Percy applied the drops, blinking rapidly to rid himself of the burning sensation. His gaze flickered to the cookies, their innocent presence now an insult to the situation at hand. With a look of disgust, he pushed both the tea and plate of cookies away, making it abundantly clear he had no interest in indulging their so-called hospitality.
"I was just recently discharged from the hospital," he stated flatly, his words void of emotion.
His aunt took another sip of her tea, her expression unmoved. "Oh, really? What hap—"
"Save it," Percy cut her off, his voice cold. "You and Uncle got the news the moment I was struck by lightning. So, spare me the theatrics—for once."
A flicker of something—perhaps amusement, perhaps irritation—danced across his aunt's crimson gaze before vanishing just as quickly as it appeared. Yet she said nothing, simply placing her cup down with deliberate grace.
The silence that followed was deafening.
The battle had only just begun.
Percy's aunt regarded him with a knowing gaze, her sharp eyes scanning him for cracks in his composure. Despite his outward display of defiance, she sensed something was deeply wrong with him. Still, she kept her expression unreadable, taking another sip of tea, as if waiting for him to break first.
"As you wish," she said smoothly, yet her tone carried the unmistakable undertone of amusement.
Percy clenched his fists beneath the table. His patience was wearing thin. "Where is she?" he demanded through gritted teeth.
The tension in the air spiked. His voice, though controlled, carried a dangerous edge, a barely restrained fury that made the butler subtly stiffen. His aunt, however, remained entirely unfazed. Instead, she lifted her teacup just high enough to conceal the smirk forming on her lips. She was enjoying this—enjoying the power she held over him.
Percy knew this game. He had played it before.
A conversation with her was never simple. It was always a calculated exchange, where control was bartered in subtle gestures. If he wanted answers, he'd have to play along—something as trivial as taking a sip of tea was, to her, a demonstration of respect. A sign of compliance.
Percy nearly scoffed at the absurdity of it. She hasn't changed at all.
{Master! Your emotional levels are rapidly increasing. Might I suggest using one of your abilities?}
Percy barely processed the system's voice in his mind, his pulse roaring in his ears. What ability? he asked.
{Absolute Immunity… remember?}
Recognition struck him like a bolt of lightning. His third ability—the one that granted him complete immunity. Not just from physical harm, but from anything that could affect him, including emotions.
Percy inhaled sharply, then issued the command. (Activate Absolute Immunity!)
The effect was immediate.
It was as if someone had reached into his chest and ripped out every ounce of feeling, leaving behind only an eerie void. The anger, frustration, and unease that had been boiling inside him evaporated in an instant. His expression smoothed into a mask of indifference. His heartbeat, once erratic with emotion, became unnaturally steady.
The butler tensed, his eyes flickering with confusion. The Headmistress, who had been basking in her control, hesitated ever so slightly.
Percy tilted his head, his thoughts unnervingly clear. No burdens, no guilt, no fear… His lips curled slightly. It's intoxicating.
For the first time in weeks, he felt nothing. No grief. No regret. No pain.
It was... freeing.
{Master, remember why you are here!} the system's urgent reminder cut through the cold serenity of his mind.
Percy almost ignored it. Almost. But then—a sharp, searing pain struck his chest, forcing him to inhale sharply. It wasn't physical; it was something deeper, something clawing to break free. Suppressed emotions fighting against their prison. His fingers twitched against the porcelain teacup, the brief lapse in control barely noticeable.
His aunt was still watching him, intrigued. He met her gaze, now utterly unreadable, and—without hesitation—he lifted the cup and took a slow sip.
The butler's breath caught. His aunt's smirk faltered for just a moment.
Percy placed the cup down with deliberate ease. "Now... talk."
The room had never felt so quiet.
Then—
{WARNING! WARNING!}
The system's voice blared in his mind, urgent and unrelenting.
Something was wrong.
Something was very, very wrong.
{WARNING! UNKNOWN SUBSTANCE DETECTED IN BODY! IMMEDIATE ACTION REQUIRED TO REDUCE RISK FACTOR!}
{ABSOLUTE IMMUNITY ACTIVATED—PURGING FOREIGN CONTAMINANT. DO NOT TAKE SUCH RISKS AGAIN.}
Percy's head tilted slightly as he regarded the Headmistress, his expression eerily composed, his presence exuding a quiet, predatory calm. He crossed one leg over the other, and rested his hands on his knees.
"I won't make a fuss." His voice carried an almost unsettling serenity. "Just tell me what I want to know."
The Headmistress narrowed her cat-like eyes, recognizing the shift in control. With a subtle flick of her wrist, she gestured for the butler to remove the tea set. The butler bowed slightly before silently exiting the room, leaving the two of them alone in the charged silence.
"You came here for information about your sister, correct?" she finally asked, her tone measured.
Percy didn't answer. Silence was his weapon now. The less he spoke, the more pressure mounted on her to fill the void.
The Headmistress sighed, pressing a manicured nail against her temple. "Well, she's most certainly not here—if that's what you're thinking."
A flicker of something unreadable passed through Percy's golden-blue eyes. (Her phrasing was too careful, her words too pointed. There was something she wasn't saying.)
"Then where is she?" His voice was deceptively smooth, but the steel beneath it was unmistakable. "I know you and my uncle have been keeping track of our movements from the moment we gained financial freedom."
His aunt's expression tightened ever so slightly at the accusation, though she hid it well behind a veil of practiced indifference.
"As much as I despise you, Percy, for once—I am telling the truth."
Percy studied her for a long moment. Then, with slow, deliberate steps, he moved toward the grand windows overlooking the academy courtyard. His aunt mirrored the motion, stopping a few feet away.
"And yet, I don't believe you," he muttered, his gaze locked on the sprawling campus below.
Her lips curled in mild amusement. "Of course you don't."
Percy exhaled through his nose, his attention shifting to a massive oil painting hanging on the opposite wall. It depicted a regal man seated on an ornate throne, a strikingly beautiful woman at his side, and two cherubic young girls at their feet.
His jaw tensed.
"Tell me," he continued, voice laced with ice, "how am I supposed to believe that my scheming, conniving, bastard of an uncle is suddenly content to leave my parents' fortune in my hands? Along with their death benefits?"
The question hung in the air, venomous and sharp.
"You and Uncle are both well aware that my parents built an empire—one that rivaled even the most elite families from Star City and Scarlet City combined. They were ghosts in the financial world, moving in the shadows, yet more successful than most. And you expect me to believe that neither of you have any interest in that legacy?"
His aunt remained silent, though the way her fingers curled ever so slightly against her sleeve told him he had struck a nerve.
Percy let out a humorless chuckle, running a hand through his raven-black hair. "They were smart, my parents," he mused. "They hid the fake documents where they knew you and Uncle would find them. But the real ones?" He turned, staring her down. "Hidden away in a place so obscure, not even their own children knew about it. And they left behind only a general clue—one that unraveled into many others."
A shadow passed over the Headmistress's face.
Percy smirked.
"You spent years chasing ghosts, didn't you?"
The silence that followed was deafening.
Percy leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. "You know," he began, voice calm but edged with something sharper, "it wasn't easy figuring out where my parents hid the real documents. Took me years of piecing together their cryptic clues, tracking their movements, analyzing their habits… but I found them."
The Headmistress's grip on her teacup tightened, the subtle crack of porcelain betraying her growing frustration. "You expect me to believe that?" she scoffed, her cat-like eyes narrowing. "You were just a boy when they—"
"When they died?" Percy interrupted, his gaze locking onto hers, unflinching. "Yeah, I was. But you and Uncle made damn sure to remind me every single day after, didn't you? Told me I was too young, too naive, too weak to handle anything on my own. Except, I did handle it. And now," he tilted his head, watching her with cool amusement, "it's funny how that 'weak little boy' outplayed you both."
The Headmistress's jaw clenched. "You're bluffing."
Percy smirked, shaking his head. "Am I? You look a little pale, Auntie." He leaned forward, his tone dropping lower. "Tell me, what part has you sweating? The fact that I have the real inheritance documents? Or that you and Uncle spent all these years chasing nothing but well-placed fakes?"
Silence.
The room, once heavy with tension, was now suffocating with it. The flickering candlelight cast shadows across the Headmistress's face, her eyes stormy as she struggled to regain control of the conversation.
Percy took his time. "Oh," he said finally, as if just remembering, "and before you ask—no, you won't be able to find them now. Let's just say… I made sure they're somewhere only I can access." He set his cup down with a soft clink, his smile widening. "So, Auntie, should we stop pretending? Or would you like to continue this little dance?"
"I wouldn't have gone searching for it if not for the way you and Uncle treated me and my sister. We were so desperate to escape that I followed every clue my parents left behind, scouring the entire city until I found the real documents... in the last place either of you would have expected."
Percy's words cut deep, each one striking like a precision blade. His aunt's expression darkened with every sentence, her tightly clenched fists trembling with barely restrained fury.
"My parents really planned that far ahead," Percy continued, his tone laced with cold amusement. "They created fake personas—crafted sentimental facades to fool you both into believing they were weak, naive, and bound by family loyalty. But in reality? They played you. And now, everything they built works in my favor."
The Headmistress's knuckles turned white around the teacup handle. Her fury boiled over, shattering her carefully maintained composure.
"OH, SHUT THE FUCK UP!" she shrieked, slamming the cup down so hard the porcelain cracked against the saucer. Her cat-like eyes burned with rage, her body tense as if she were moments away from lunging at him.
Percy barely batted an eye. (How pathetic.) He watched her with nothing but quiet disdain, completely unaffected by her outburst.
"You could kill me," he said, his voice impossibly calm, "but then you'd never see a single cent of the trust fund. Remember, if I don't input the confirmation code every six months, all that wealth gets liquidated and distributed to global charities. I know Uncle is currently overseas, jumping through legal hoops, desperately trying to gain control of the trust. But it's pointless."
He leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other as his fingers tapped idly against the armrest. "So come now, Janet," he said smoothly, his gaze locking onto hers like a predator to prey. "Tell me what I want to know… and I won't 'accidentally forget' to input the code in three days."
The room fell into heavy silence.
His aunt's jaw tensed, her teeth grinding audibly as she struggled to contain her rage. She wanted to lash out—he could see it, feel it—but she knew better. To her, the money was everything. To Percy, it was nothing more than leverage.
The sharpness in her glare dulled into something colder, calculating. When she finally spoke, her voice was clipped. "Like I said before… your sister is not here."
Percy's relaxed posture didn't change, but a faint crease appeared in his brow. "What do you mean?"
Janet scoffed, her lips curling into a mirthless smirk. "Why are you acting like you don't already know the answer? This academy only tutors girls between the ages of five and fifteen. Anyone older moves on to one of the city schools. Two years ago, both of you were admitted into Solarskis University—one of the most prestigious institutions in the country. Genius twins. You were supposed to be their prodigies."
The weight of her words settled between them.
"...Did you really not know this?"
Her tone carried something that unsettled him—genuine confusion. As if she fully expected him to already be aware of this fact.
Percy didn't respond immediately. For the first time in their entire conversation, a flicker of uncertainty passed through him.
Something didn't add up.
{Master! Your emotions are becoming unstable. Please get a grip. If the instability continues, your heart may not handle the strain any further... Also, be advised—you have two minutes before Absolute Immunity reaches the critical stage.}
A brief twitch in Percy's eye was the only crack in his carefully maintained composure. The system's warning resonated in his mind, its urgency pressing against the thin wall of control he had left. He pressed a hand against his chest, wincing slightly at the sharp pain rippling through him. His attempt to suppress his emotions was backfiring—his body was rejecting the unnatural void he had forced upon it.
The Headmistress observed him closely, sipping her tea with the same calculated grace she always did. Yet beneath that mask, her mind was racing.
(Could it be that the damage was more severe than we thought? Could he have lost some memories? That would explain why he's pestering me about his sister so insistently...)
Her sharp gaze flickered across his frame. (Now that I really look at him... he is weaker. Could this be our chance?)
Her fingers tightened around the porcelain cup, but just as quickly, she loosened her grip. (No. Even if he's weakened, Percy always has something hidden up his sleeve. Lowering my guard now would be reckless. But still... I should report this.)
Meanwhile, Percy was barely listening. His heart pounded erratically, a rhythmic warning of how close he was to another collapse. He exhaled slowly, gripping onto the last thread of stability he had left. I got what I came for. There's no reason to stay here any longer.
Straightening his posture, he turned toward the door, but not before delivering a final, ice-cold warning.
"If I find out you had anything to do with her disappearance..." He let the words linger, savoring the way the air in the room seemed to freeze over. "I will make sure that both you and Uncle regret ever crossing me. And your daughters..."
Janet visibly tensed. Her hands twitched, aching to react, but she held herself back. She couldn't afford to lose control again.
Percy smirked, tilting his head ever so slightly. "They'd fetch a fair price in the human slave market, wouldn't they?" His tone was mocking, laced with dark amusement. "After all, that's what you tried to do to us."
The moment the words left his lips, Janet's restraint shattered.
"YOU LITTLE—!"
A sharp crack rang through the office as she slammed her fist against the desk.
Percy, completely unfazed, turned on his heel and walked away.
As he moved down the halls, the echoes of his footsteps were drowned out by memories clawing at his mind. Illusions of the past—his sister's laughter, their parents' warmth, a time when things weren't broken—played before his eyes, only to dissolve like mist the moment he reached for them.
By the time he reached the academy's grand entrance, his emotions had settled into a quiet emptiness.
Then—his path was blocked.
A girl, no older than fifteen, stood there, weighed down by exhaustion. She clutched textbooks tightly to her chest, her bag slung carelessly over one shoulder. Frizzled amber hair framed a pale, sleep-deprived face, her fingernails ragged with stress-induced picking. At a glance, nothing about her stood out to the average person.
But Percy wasn't the average person.
His breath caught.
Not because of her posture. Not because of her disheveled state.
But because of her eyes.
Brilliant silver, rimmed with deep crimson.
"Angelica..." The name fell from his lips before he could stop it.
The girl froze, her silver-crimson gaze snapping to him, wide with disbelief.
Percy barely registered his own movements. He stepped forward, reaching out as if to touch her hair, to confirm that she was real—that she wasn't another illusion.
But the moment his hand hovered near her, Angelica flinched.
His stomach twisted.
A quiet click sounded in his mind.
{Absolute Immunity has been deactivated.}
The emotions he had locked away came crashing back all at once.
A mix of relief, fear, and something raw and painful clenched inside him. He took a shaky breath before stepping forward again—this time, closing the distance and wrapping his arms around her.
Angelica stiffened at first, her breath hitching. But as seconds passed, as warmth spread between them, the tension in her body melted away. Her hands trembled before clutching the fabric of his shirt.
"I'm glad you're okay," Percy whispered against her hair, his voice carrying something softer, something real.
A shaky exhale left Angelica's lips.
"...Yeah," she murmured, her fingers curling tighter around him. "Me too."
Neither of them moved to let go. Not yet.
Because in that moment, nothing else mattered.