Suffocating.

  Despite only three people seated inside Count Emil’s office, it felt as if there were hundreds. Narrow, spear-like beams of morning sun pierced the gloom through high windows, only for massive mahogany shelves to swallow it whole. Heavy velvet, adorned with the family crest, draped the walls and stifled the air even further.

  It wasn’t a simple office as Emilia had portrayed before Jin and her came here; this was a court where the Lowenhald’s legacies lived, and the shadows themselves seemed to wait for the Count’s command.

  Worse, to the Lowenhald princess, whatever she had planned had soured. A disaster waiting to happen. All the posturing from the night before had vanished just because Jin had to ask that question.

  Count Emil van Lowenhald stroked his goatee. His eyes, cold and sharp, tracked from Jin to his daughter and back again. He looked for a crack in Jin’s composure – a tremor in the hands or a shift in the eyes – but found only a calm, maddening confidence in his guest.

  Jin sat in his high-backed velvet chair, sprawled as if he were resting on a crate after a hard day’s work. He disregarded the gold-leaf detailing, the expensive craftsmanship, and the comfort of the seat. His focus remained on the host seated across from him.

  He met the patriarch’s gaze with a knowing smile. The expression ignored the Count’s status, offering only pity in its place. The host shifted from his seat, his fingers tightening around the arms of his chair.

  “Daddy, please don’t get angry,” Emilia tried to douse the growing flame of irritation between the two men. “And Frank, why the hell did you ask that?!”

  Jin remained unperturbed. “Simple. I don’t want to waste your father’s time or mine. So, once again, Count Emil. Is Vincent really missing? You and I know people like him don’t go poof out of nowhere. So, is he dead-missing, or don’t-want-to-be-found missing?”

  After a brief silence, the Count finally spoke. “Frank, is it? Tell me, what does Vincent have to do with you?”

  “As of now, nothing,” Jin said. The answer was quick and direct.

  “Daddy, I told you last night,” Emilia interjected. She was not having it. “About Frank wanting to start his company. About how our party could use Big Brother’s powers.”

  “I know, dear,” Count Emil replied. “But you are not the only one who comes to me asking about Vincent. Besides, regardless of your brother, why do you even want to join Frank’s party? Our family has better companies for you. Groups that can ensure your success.”

  “But Daddy–”

  Count Emil silenced his daughter with a wave of his hand.

  “Chairman Heihachi spoke highly of you. But now that you are here, I am starting to doubt his words.”

  “I don’t care.” Jin scoffed. “Your opinion is yours. I’m not here to listen to what you think of Chairman Heihachi. Or me.”

  “You see that, dear?” Count Emil pointed a finger at Jin, using him as a lesson. “Forget his lack of manners. He does not look strong. Carries no presence, commands no respect, and possesses none of the charisma required for leadership despite that face. After the training you went through, this is the man you set your heart on?” The Count paused, letting the weight of his judgment settle. “I am disappointed.”

  “Daddy! What are you–”

  “Hahahaha!”

  Jin’s laughter cut through the tension. “Oi. If you two want a father-daughter spat, I’ll be off. No point eavesdropping.”

  Jin stood from his seat. Before excusing himself, he flashed a wide grin. “You know, I agree with what you said about me. When I see my daughter, I’ll tell her to be careful about getting involved with guys. All guys, to be honest. Especially ones with a shitty attitude that doesn’t match their looks. Guys like me. Hahaha.”

  “Hey! Frank! Where are you going? You promised to look for my brother!”

  “Did I?” Jin asked, reaching for the door. “I said if we want to find your brother, we need to talk to your father. My hunch was right. He knows more than he’s letting on to me. And to you.”

  Emilia’s jaw dropped as she exchanged glances between Jin and her father.

  “But I’m not going to waste my time chasing shadows,” Jin continued. “I have less than a year to start my company. The last thing I need is to find someone who might be dead. Or doesn’t want to be found.”

  “Don’t go yet!” Emilia turned back to her father. “Daddy! I hate you! You could just tell us where Vincent is! What’s so hard about it?”

  Jin’s hand was already on the heavy brass handle when the Count’s voice stopped him.

  “Wait.”

  The mockery had vanished, though the tone still carried the same crushing pressure. Jin didn’t turn. He stayed still. With his hand still resting on the metal, he peered at the Lowenhald patriarch from the corner of his eye.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Count Emil leaned forward, his eyes locked on Jin’s back for a moment while his fingers tapped a fast, rhythmic beat against the mahogany desk. Then, he cracked a small smile. And when he spoke again, his words were measured, stripped of the earlier theatrics.

  “I will tell you what you want to know,” the Count said. “But only to you. Emilia, leave us.”

  The Lowenhald princess was adamant, her face flushing as she prepared a protest that bordered on a tantrum. It took a quiet, firm nod from Jin – and a whispered promise of a summary later – to get her to move. She glared at her father one last time before the heavy door clicked shut, leaving the two men alone in the stifling quiet.

  “She never listens to me,” Count Emil said once the door clicked shut. “Or anyone else. Until today.”

  He rose from his desk and walked to the bar counter. He moved with a grace that contradicted his age, pulling a bottle and two glasses from a recessed shelf. “Wine?”

  “Yes, please,” Jin said, cracking a warm smile. “I know how a spoiled brat behaves. I’ve had my fair share.”

  Count Emil poured the liquid – a deep, viscous crimson – into the crystal glasses. During the journey, Emilia had warned Jin that her father could see through people. Whether through his Player skills or a lifetime of dealing with sycophants, the man didn't miss a beat.

  Jin didn't care. He wasn't here to curry favour. Not yet, anyway. All he wanted was to know if this endeavour was the best use of his time. Yet, something about Count Emil felt relatable, and Jin felt his guard lowered, even if it was only a fraction.

  “She misses her brother,” Jin said, taking a step toward the desk. “I don’t know your family politics, but I know what it's like to miss someone. Especially when their fate remains unknown. If he’s dead, he’s dead. She’ll grieve and move on. But Count Emil, Vincent is not dead, is he?”

  The Count didn't answer immediately. He handed a glass to Jin, his eyes searching for any sign of a lie. He found none.

  “Correct,” the Count finally spoke. “My eldest son is neither dead nor does he want to be found.”

  “Why the hoo-ha then?”

  Count Emil paused, the glass halfway to his lips. An awkward silence stretched between them until the Count returned to his desk and produced a small, iron-bound box. He didn't use a key to open it. Instead, his fingers danced over the lid in a specific sequence, and the lock clicked through several hidden mechanisms before the lid popped open.

  Inside lay a stack of letters.

  “These are the letters my son has sent me over the past year,” Count Emil said. “The last arrived three days ago.” He then slid the latest parchment across the mahogany. “Have a look.”

  The message was brief, scrawled in a frantic yet precise handwriting.

  Hey D.

  Found X.

  Entering den.

  WML V

  Four words and four letters. To anyone else, it was nonsense. To the Count, it was a bittersweet omen.

  As Jin studied the wording, Count Emil began to unravel the history that had hollowed out his family. The real reason behind Vincent’s sudden disappearance.

  It started decades ago in the European Unified State Union – the EU – one of the few regions to survive the Cataclysm relatively intact. Specifically, it started in Milan. The city hadn't fallen because of one man.

  Giorgio ‘Jojo’ Giovanni.

  Jojo was one of the first few humans in the world to awaken as a Player. If Chairman Heihachi was Generation One, Jojo was Generation Zero. To date, fewer than ten Players from that generation still live.

  It was Jojo and his entire syndicate who held the line when the world faced extinction. Due to his role, his family was elevated to nobility, becoming a force that rivalled the von Engelhardts’ might. The two families, alongside a third power, formed the trifecta of the new world’s royalty – dynasties with enough Players that could collapse a nation's economy or its borders on a whim.

  Now that Jin thought back on it, one of Elyzabeth’s suitors had been a Giovanni.

  Somehow, the thread of fate didn’t end there. The van Lowenhalds had been a branch family of the Giovannis before separating thirty years ago. Though the relationship was no longer that of master and subordinate, they remained cordial. This was why Count Emil could not refuse when the Giovannis asked for help clearing a brutal A-rank RIFT.

  “It is a decision I regret to this day. Even when it has been more than two decades,” the Count said, his eyes glazing with unshed tears. “I should never have made that trip.”

  While he was away, assassins breached the Lowenhald’s main residence. The target was the Count’s children, but with Emilia accompanying her father on his trip, Vincent became the primary mark. The killers met an unyielding Countess instead. She and her guards saved the child, but it cost them their lives.

  “Emilia is just like her,” the Count muttered, his voice mixed of pride and fear. “Stubborn. She does not know how to give up.”

  Jin felt a small, sombre smile touch his lips. “Because of her, your family survived. I know what it feels like to have a wife who is persistent. Right until the end.”

  The Count raised an eyebrow but didn't pry. A bittersweet smile escaped from his lips. “At first, we thought it was a rival family. You know the nobility. All those daggers hidden behind every polite smile. But the assassins were only the first thread. It took me years to find the mastermind, only to be led astray again and again.”

  He emptied his glass and, instead of refilling it, chugged from the bottle. An ‘Ah!’ escaped his lips before he gestured to the letter.

  “Vincent is the smartest boy I have ever known. His Dual Class gave him the strengths, yes, but his mind is his real weapon. What took me ten years to uncover, he solved in weeks.”

  “So,” Jin said, the pieces now clicking into place. “Instead of you, he’s the one seeking vengeance for his mother?”

  “One lead led to another. And another. Until three days ago. That letter is the result of his work.”

  Jin remained silent, weighing the options available to him. He found three.

  One, do nothing and wait for the dust to settle. If Vincent were as strong and as smart as everyone portrayed him to be, he would eventually return. Jin, however, dismissed the idea immediately. That ‘eventual return’ might never happen. Might take years. Time that Jin didn’t have. And even if the heir returned, Jin was not the type to sit on his arse and wait for opportunity to be handed to him on a plate.

  Two, help the Count and protect Emilia. Judging by the nature of the nobility, it was a matter of when, not if, the Lowenhald princess would find herself stuck in the dark recesses of the world. It was the safer play, a way to earn a favour by keeping the family ‘safe and sound’ while the heir was away. But safety was a slow currency, and Jin was in a hurry. Besides, the Lowenhalds might never even need his protection in the first place.

  Or, he could take the third path.

  He would seek Vincent out and help him finish whatever the man had started. If Jin extended a hand in a job this personal and succeeded, the Lowenhalds would owe him a debt that they could never deny. It was the strategic choice. The layered choice. The best choice.

  It was also the most stupidly dangerous choice.

  Then again, ‘Stupidly Dangerous’ had been Jin’s middle name once upon a time. Only when he had Eleana did he become a little cautious. Even then, this was not the time for Jin to dawdle.

  With his decision made, only one problem remained. Two, if he included the obvious.