For Survival

A collapsing cycle mark glowed faintly blue, pulsing for a brief second before vanishing.

In the same instant, Ethan appeared—like he had always been there.

The dim candlelight flickered, casting shifting shadows across the marble walls of the bathroom. The air was cool, thick with the faint scent of lavender soap and damp stone. Ethan's gaze lifted to the mirror, and crimson eyes stared back at him. His reflection seemed to assess him, taking in the lingering tension in his posture, the faint sheen of sweat on his brow.

He had returned to the bathroom. The place where he had wisely left an OmniMark.

Taking a slow breath, he stepped forward. His staps barely made a sound against the cold floor as he reached for the door, pressing his ear against it. He strained to catch even the faintest sound from the other side.

Silence.

After a few seconds, he slowly turned the handle, cracking the door open just enough to peek into his room. His sharp gaze swept across the dimly lit interior.

Empty.

A quiet sigh left his lips.

Ethan pushed the door open fully and stepped inside. His room looked untouched… except for the deep stab mark on the bed.

His steps were unhurried as he approached, fingers brushing over the torn fabric of the mattress. The cut was deep and clean—a perfect killing stroke.

If he had still been lying there when the blade fell…

"Tch."

He didn't need to imagine it. He had been seconds away from death tonight. If not for the system…

As if responding to his thoughts, the system's cheerful voice rang in his mind.

"Not really, Host! You have the ability Phoenix's Embrace, don't you remember? Even if you died, you would've been reborn! No big deal~"

Ethan's lips twitched.

"Yeah, well, I'd like to avoid that. I don't like pain—even a little bit."

The system didn't respond, but he could almost feel its smug amusement.

Then, a thought struck him.

"Hey, system… You're going to help me with the swordsmanship thing, right?"

The original Ethan had no talent for the sword. And as for himself? Well, he had been a normal guy from Earth. No matter how much training he did, his talent would probably be below average. If he wanted to become strong with the sword, he would need the system's help.

A slight pause. Then, the system's cheerful voice returned, filled with amusement.

"Of course, Host! Don't worry~ With my help, you'll become the best swordsman out there!"

Ethan narrowed his eyes.

"Alright… So how are you going to help me?"

"That's a secret!"

"…What?" Ethan blinked, feeling a twitch of irritation. "Why?"

The system let out a mischievous giggle.

"Fufufu~ Host, do not worry! Tomorrow, you'll be very surprised by my awesomeness~!"

Ethan stared blankly at the ceiling.

"I swear, if you pull some weird nonsense again…"

But the system only giggled again before going silent.

Ethan exhaled.

Whatever. Tomorrow would come soon enough.

For now… he just wanted to get some damn sleep.

He pulled off his cloak, tossed it aside, and sank onto the bed—far from the stab mark.

A final thought crossed his mind before exhaustion took over.

How should I tell someone that an assassin tried to kill me tonight?

But then, doubt crept in.

If an insider was involved, would revealing it even matter?

He had no proof. The only evidence was the stab mark on the bed, and someone could easily claim he made it himself.

And even if they did believe him, they'd surely ask how he escaped.

OmniMark was an ability he had only gained today. Revealing it would make people suspicious.

Ethan didn't want to expose his abilities. Not when he didn't even know who was trying to kill him.

The best thing to do right now was act normal.

Whoever sent the assassin wouldn't expect that.

He might be able to find out who it was by watching how people reacted—if anyone acted differently when he behaved as if nothing had happened.

It was a good strategy.

With that thought, Ethan slowly drifted off to sleep.

Fire.

Crimson flames consumed him.

The heat was unbearable—searing, agonizing. His skin burned, his breath caught, his very soul seemed to crack beneath the unbearable torment.

And through the fire, two golden pupils stared at him. Cold. Merciless. Drowning him in silent judgment.

He was going to die.

No.

He was already dead.

Ethan jolted awake, grabbing his chest. His breathing was ragged, his heart hammering against his ribs.

His face twisted in pain and horror as he sat up, the phantom sensation of burning still clinging to his skin.

"What… was that?" he muttered under his breath.

Was it a nightmare?

His eyes flickered toward the window. The curtains were drawn, yet he could see the faint glow of sunlight creeping through the fabric.

Morning.

He exhaled slowly.

Sleep was no longer an option. That nightmare wasn't going to let him rest.

Pushing the sheets aside, he stood up and made his way toward the bathroom.

A cold shower.

That should clear his mind.

A short while later…

A knock came at the door.

"Young master, are you awake?"

No answer.

The middle-aged maid waited a moment before speaking again.

"Young master, I'm coming in."

With that, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Her sharp gaze swept over the room. The bed was empty.

From the bathroom, the faint sound of running water reached her ears.

He's early today, she thought with mild surprise.

She moved to the window, pulling back the curtains and letting sunlight flood the room. Then, without hesitation, she began fixing the bed.

The bathroom door clicked open.

Ethan stepped out, a towel loosely wrapped around his waist.

His silvery white hair was damp, strands sticking to his forehead. Droplets of water clung to his skin, catching the morning light. His crimson eyes flickered toward the bed.

The maid was still fixing it, seemingly lost in thought.

She hadn't noticed him yet.

He took a step forward—then stopped.

A thought struck him.

Could she be a spy?

Whoever sent the assassin would want to see his reaction.

Was she here to observe him?

The idea seemed far-fetched… but he couldn't afford to take chances.

His mind raced.

I need to act normal.

What would the original Ethan do in this situation?

The answer came almost immediately.

He'd seduce her.

She was exactly his type—mature, curvy, experienced. The kind of woman the original Ethan was known to pursue.

Ethan's jaw tensed.

He didn't like what he was about to do.

But he didn't have a choice.

This was for survival.

Taking a slow breath, he closed his eyes.

When he opened them again—

His entire demeanor had changed.

A smirk slowly apierd on his face and he took a step towards the maid