Chapter 46: A Blade, A Lie, and the Last Night

[13th April 2024]

"Oh, someone came to meet me?" Rossy mumbled as she stood up. "Let me see if she's a friend or not."

She hurried out of the room, eager to catch a glimpse of the visitor. But when she reached the corridor, there was no one in sight. The hallway remained still and empty.

"Left already?" she frowned, turning on her heel to head back upstairs.

Just then, the phone inside rang.

She entered the room again, picked it up, and answered casually, "Hello, Valor Residency. Who is this?"

A familiar voice responded with warmth.

"Oh yes, it's me, Aunt. Did you meet the lady? I thought you hadn't come back, so maybe you were talking with her."

It was Evan.

"I just called to tell you that you can talk with her freely. I'm cleaning the room myself, so don't come back and strain your feet. I know they've been weak since the fever," he added with concern. "So just rest, watch some TV, and ask if you need anything. Bye!"

Click.

"…Hello, honey, you don't—hah… geez," Rossy sighed, lowering the phone. "This kid makes me worry so much. And even with his weak physique, he keeps working tirelessly."

She looked at her arm, flexing it a little. The defined muscle and hardened build were a far cry from the image of a frail aunt.

"If only he knew... I could lift an entire shelf without breaking a sweat."

Her lips curled into a soft smile. "Those days were quite good, huh?"

Meanwhile, back in Evan's room...

He let out a sigh of relief.

"At least she won't come up now," he whispered, deciding to postpone the cleaning. There was something far more pressing.

From his bag, he retrieved an object wrapped in a brown cover. He unwrapped it carefully to reveal a box.

Breaking the seal, he uncovered a concealed knife-blade weapon—something compact, sharp, and crafted for covert use.

"I'll only need to use this once," Evan murmured. "The path I'm taking… it's not heavily guarded."

He wasn't planning to kill. Sabotage and stealth were the goals. A swift entry, a clean escape. Even if he was caught later, the item would be in his possession.

He strapped the device onto his left arm like a band, securing it snugly.

"Let's try this out," he grinned like a child with a new toy.

There were instructions: one button for throwing, another for retrieval. A dial allowed him to set the mode.

"Hm… if I set it to throw, I might lose it. But hand-mode might let me reuse it…"

He turned the dial.

Click.

Satisfied, he struck some poses in front of the mirror, mimicking a spy.

Then curiosity struck.

Detaching the blade from the wristband, he tested its sharpness on a fruit from the fridge. It sliced effortlessly.

A thick rope, however, resisted. It took effort—tension, pressure, a bit of brute force—but the blade cut through.

"Not bad."

But beneath the excitement, a deeper concern stirred.

"How do I leave… without them panicking?""I don't want to disappear without a reason."

He paced. Then stopped.

"…Oh yes, that might work."

But first, the room had to be spotless.

He glanced at the cleaning supplies and cracked his knuckles.

"Let's do this."

Hours passed.

"Phew… Done," Evan sighed, collapsing onto the bed.

His room was pristine. Every corner sparkled. Everything was in order, just the way he liked it.

Time for the last step.

He called his principal.

"Sir, I… would like one more day off."

"Just one more, Evan," the voice warned.

"It will be the last," he said with a bitter smile.

He set the phone down and reached for pen and paper.

Letters.

One for his aunt. One for his uncle. And another for his friends.

Not farewell letters.Not goodbye.Just… lies. Lies wrapped in love.

As he wrote, emotions surged. He chuckled. He frowned. He wept in silence.

He didn't want to leave them. But he had to. To protect them. To survive the future that loomed ever closer.

The mana invasion. The twisted ambitions of God Candidates. The wrath of true gods.

To stand against all of that, he needed strength. Power he didn't yet have.

But he would have it.

He glanced at the clock. Past 7 PM. Dinner time.

Before leaving his room, he carefully removed the weapon, concealing it in a secret spot.

"I'll say it during dinner," he decided. "Not tomorrow. Not through a letter."

He stood before the door.

"If I'm late in retrieving it... I'll come back. I'll confess that it was all just a lie... and stay longer."

With that, he stepped out of the room—toward what might be his final dinner at home.

To be continued... 👉