Akshran bolted upright in the medical room, his breath sharp as his eyes darted around. Relief washed over him as he realized his body, though aching, was intact. His fingers moved freely, and his eye—unharmed.
'Looks like Seriphina worked her magic,' he thought, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. This hadn't just been a gamble for victory. After witnessing Seriphina's remarkable healing skills, he knew she could restore him. The risk had been calculated, and it had paid off.
'Medical room, good. Now… did I get the reaction I was aiming for?'
His gaze shifted to the small desk beside his bed. Flowers, letters, and trinkets crowded the surface, tokens of admiration and gratitude.
'Keh keh keh,' Akshran chuckled inwardly, his smirk widening. 'So easily fooled.' Each piece of affection was a vital part of the plan.
The sound of hurried footsteps broke his thoughts. Anatolia and Kevin entered the room, their faces alight with relief.
"DUDE, YOU'RE AWAKE!" Kevin yelled, bounding forward and throwing his arms around Akshran in an exuberant hug.
'Why is he acting like we're best friends?' Akshran wondered, his body too weak to resist the embrace.
"I knew it!" Kevin exclaimed, pulling back with a grin. "There's no way a killer would gouge out his own eye to save others. My intuition was totally off."
'Killer?' Anatolia thought, her eyes widening, though she remained silent.
'This idiot,' Akshran fumed inwardly.
From his pocket, Kevin produced a gold-wrapped chocolate. "This is a limited edition from my personal stash. Don't waste it!" he said, thrusting it into Akshran's hand.
Akshran studied the chocolate briefly and nodded. "Thanks," he said flatly, his eyes drifting toward Anatolia.
Kevin noticed the shift immediately. "Ehehe, I'll leave you two to talk," he said, backing out of the room with a sly grin.
The silence that followed was heavy. Anatolia stood at the edge of the room, her head low, saying nothing.
"I'll just pretend that idiot didn't say anything," Anatolia said, trying to ease the tension in the room.
'Huh?' Akshran thought, his brows knitting slightly. 'The Anatolia I know would've screamed by now or thrown some sarcastic jab. This silence… it's not like her.'
"Eddie said something to you," Akshran guessed, his voice cutting through the quiet.
Anatolia's head snapped up, her eyes wide. "I shouldn't even be surprised anymore, should I?"
"Yeah," she admitted after a pause. "He did. It was about my father."
Akshran leaned back against the headrest, his expression unreadable. "Hmm," he murmured, almost to himself. "Let me guess. Your father did something to Eddie's father, and now Eddie's sworn revenge."
Anatolia blinked, startled by the calm certainty in his voice.
Akshran shrugged lightly, his tone weary, as if this scenario were one he'd seen too many times before. 'It's predictable. Revenge, grudges… they're always the same story, just different players.' he thought
"Y-you…" Anatolia hesitated, her voice trembling slightly. "Yeah, you're right. One of my father's biggest achievements—'Aspect,' an ability that reveals if someone is blessed by a god and allows them to form a connection with that god to gain an Aspect Ability—it wasn't his. He stole it… from Eddie's father."
'One of his biggest achievements? Not even the greatest? Impressive,' Akshran mused, his expression betraying none of his thoughts.
"Do you actually believe Eddie's story?" Akshran asked, his tone sharp.
"Normally, I wouldn't," Anatolia admitted. "But knowing my father… it adds up."
Akshran's eyebrow arched as he scanned the room, subtly checking for surveillance. Finding none, he leaned forward. "Go on," he prompted.
Anatolia took a steadying breath, her voice soft but steady as she continued. "My father… he was a good man. A kind man. Every year, he gave half his personal earnings to charity. He helped the poor, uplifted his people, and earned respect for his intellect and compassion. I idolized him."
Her tone grew heavier, the words tinged with bitterness. "But everything changed the day I awakened my resonance."
Akshran tilted his head slightly, waiting.
"My mother had the power to create gems from raw magical energy," Anatolia explained. "When I awakened, he changed—completely. He became someone I didn't recognize, the very embodiment of greed. He abused my mother to exploit her ability for more wealth. He abused his people to climb the ranks. He rose from a viscount to a member of the House of Colour, gaining power at any cost."
Her fists clenched tightly at her sides. "By the time he died, he'd become consumed by his hunger for power. He apologized to me on his deathbed… but I couldn't forgive him."
Akshran's gaze remained fixed on her, his face unreadable. "Did anyone else hear about this? Other than you and Eddie?"
Anatolia shook her head firmly. "No. I asked. No one knew a thing."
Akshran leaned back slightly, his single eye narrowing as thoughts churned in his mind. 'Too convenient. Something doesn't add up here,' he thought, suspicion creeping into his expression.
Anatolia stared at Akshran, expecting his usual mask of indifference. What she saw instead stopped her cold. He chuckled softly, the sound cutting through the tension like a blade.
"So," Akshran said, his voice calm and detached, "you hate your father for being human?"
The words struck her like a slap.
"What do you mean?" she snapped, her voice shaking with barely restrained fury. "He abused my mother!"
Akshran leaned forward, his sharp gaze locking onto hers. "People cling to this comforting illusion that being human means being virtuous—selfless, honest, loving. But humanity isn't just light. It's shadow too. Greed, violence, deceit—they're as human as compassion and kindness."
Anatolia froze, her mind stumbling over the weight of his words.
"And here's the hard truth," Akshran continued, his voice steady, deliberate. "No one sees themselves as the villain. What you call a lie, someone else calls survival. What you see as greed, another sees as ambition."
His tone sharpened, cutting deeper. "A thief? You call it theft. They call it justice—a rebellion against a system that left them with nothing. A murderer? You see a crime. They see retribution, the only way to balance scales that were never fair to begin with. What's sin to one is virtue to another. Every action makes sense to the one taking it, shaped by their fears, their desires, their story."
Akshran's voice dropped to a near-whisper, his words like a chilling wind. "So don't waste time asking whether what your father did was right or wrong. That question doesn't exist in this world. It's all just… human."
Anatolia's chest rose and fell as her emotions crashed into one another—fury, confusion, guilt. She wanted to scream at him, to tear his argument apart. But the truth in his words anchored her, heavy and unshakable.
And that truth made her hate him. Almost as much as she hated herself for knowing he was right.
Akshran tilted his head slightly, his gaze steady and unyielding. "Sudden emotions," he murmured, his voice unnervingly calm. "When we first met, you seemed to thrive on watching others fail. At first, I thought it was cruelty for its own sake. But now… now it all fits together."
Anatolia's lips parted, but no words came.
"You're not a typical sadist," Akshran continued, his tone sharper, cutting into the silence. "No one wants to feel small, to feel insignificant. You grew up watching others lead happy, untouched lives while you endured something they couldn't imagine. An abusive father. A broken home. You wanted them to see it—your pain. To make them feel what it's like to live in the shadow of someone else's cruelty."
Each word hit its mark, stripping away her defenses like layers of fragile armor.
"And in that," Akshran leaned closer, his voice a scalpel, "you're no different from your father."
The room fell deathly silent. The air felt suffocating, thick with the weight of his words. Anatolia's anger flared, hot and wild, but beneath it, something darker and colder began to settle—a chilling sense of recognition.
"I know!" she cried, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. "I know, damn it, you bastard!" Tears streamed down her face as she lunged forward, clutching Akshran's chest as though it were the only thing keeping her afloat.
Akshran's face remained impassive, his thoughts detached even as he felt her trembling against him. 'Damn it,' he thought with an inward sigh. 'My shirt's going to be soaked. I'll need to change.'
"That's why I came to you," Anatolia said, her tone sharp and deliberate.
Akshran's gaze remained neutral, but his focus sharpened as she stepped closer.
"I've figured out the truth about your audiotape plan," she continued. "You didn't avoid harming me because of some noble self-sacrifice, like everyone else believes. You knew my family wouldn't forgive such an action. You knew you'd face retribution."
Akshran's lips twitched, the faintest shadow of a smile crossing his face. 'Clever,' he mused silently. 'But what can you do? Tell everyone?'
"I need your help to find the truth," Anatolia pressed, her eyes locking with his.
"The truth?" Akshran asked, his voice low and skeptical.
"My father," she said, her voice tightening as if forcing herself to admit it aloud. "I always thought his transformation was just… natural. But while you were unconscious, I thought about it more than I ever had before. It was too sudden, too drastic. I'm convinced someone caused it—someone changed him."
Akshran's brow lifted slightly. "And what's your evidence?"
She didn't flinch. "His rise in rank—far too rapid, far too convenient. Even with his 'achievement,' it didn't justify the leap he made. My father's earlier work was much bigger, and yet no one reacted to his success—not even with envy. No one tried to stop him. It was as if his rise was… orchestrated."
Her tone was steady, and her reasoning precise. Each point struck with a clarity that mirrored his own methods.
Akshran tilted his head, the corners of his mouth curving upward ever so slightly. 'Excellent,' he thought. 'This girl is learning from me.'
"Why should I accept your offer?" Akshran asked, his tone cold and measured, his piercing gaze fixed on Anatolia.
"I can give you money, resources—whatever you need. Isn't that enough?" Anatolia countered, her voice steady but edged with urgency.
"That's exactly my question," Akshran replied, leaning forward slightly. "Why would someone like you offer something like this to someone like me?"
Anatolia hesitated for a moment, then met his gaze with unwavering resolve. "Because you remind me of someone I was close to. And… I know that if I want help with this, you're one of the very few people capable of giving it."
Akshran arched a brow. "Family? Friends? Private detectives?" he muttered dismissively.
"Family won't help," Anatolia said, her voice growing quieter. "My mother has become too cold, too detached. Friends? I can't tell them something so personal. And private detectives? It's the same. This is a family matter—one I can't share with just anyone."
"But you can share it with me?" Akshran asked, his tone tinged with disbelief.
"Because…" Anatolia paused, searching for the right words. "Because I have a feeling you can help me."
Akshran's lips tightened, his thoughts racing. 'A feeling? She's offering so much based on a feeling? That's absurd—'
"I know it's stupid," Anatolia interrupted, her voice sharp, as if she had read his thoughts. "But humans are more than things to be observed, Akshran. We're not just puzzles or equations to solve."
The words hung in the air, her conviction cutting through his skepticism. Akshran stared at her for a moment, his usual detached expression faltering, if only slightly.
"Your offer," he said, leaning back against the headboard. "I accept. But there's one condition—I'm in charge. You'll provide your resources, and you'll follow my lead."
Anatolia nodded eagerly, her determination evident. "Yes, yes—whatever you say."
Akshran watched her for a moment longer, the gears in his mind turning. 'An ally gained… and with it, the reputation I've crafted. The nonchalant schemer who secretly hides his better nature.'
"How long have I been in this bed?" Akshran asked suddenly.
"Seriphina said a day or so after you wake up," Anatolia replied, a flicker of amusement crossing her face. "She wasn't exactly thrilled with how much magical energy you used. Apparently, you drained your entire reserve."
Akshran scoffed lightly, the sound almost amused. 'Not everyone is born with bottomless reserves.'
"Leave," he said, his tone dismissive but not unkind. "I need some time to think."
Anatolia hesitated for a moment before nodding and retreating.
As the door clicked shut, Akshran exhaled, his thoughts turning inward. The pieces were falling into place, and Anatolia's growth into a strategist in her own right only strengthened his position.
'Something's off, this is not the full story, she is hiding something,'
'She will betray me—eventually. But not now. Right now, she needs me. And when people need someone, they'll do almost anything to keep them content.
Take a job, for instance. You'll put up with an unfair boss or grind yourself into exhaustion just to avoid being fired. Or in a family or team, you cooperate, avoid arguments, and play along to maintain harmony when you need their support. And love? Love drives you to make sacrifices, to prioritize someone else's happiness, just to keep them close. Dependency shapes behavior—it dictates how far you'll go to hold on to what you need.
Right now, I'm what she depends on. She won't move against me—not until the moment she no longer needs me.'
_________________________________________
As Anatolia exited the room, she spotted Kevin leaning casually against a far wall, clearly waiting for her. He grinned, his voice carrying across the hall.
"Well, well! Took you long enough. What was it, a kiss? Or did you guys end up making a entire movie there?"
Anatolia froze, her expression blank for a moment before she marched straight up to him and punched him squarely in the shoulder.
"Have some decency, you idiot!" she snapped, glaring daggers.
Kevin winced, clutching his shoulder dramatically. "There it is! I was starting to think we lost the real Anatolia. Welcome back!"
'That hurt like a bitch,' Kevin thought, wincing but still grinning like a fool.