Plan failed

Could it be… Salvascon was the one behind the assassin last night?

As soon as the thought crossed Ethan's mind, a chill ran down his spine. He felt stunned.

Until now, he had assumed that Night Saka was the one pulling the strings. But thinking about it again—why would Saka want him dead?

Saka was an opportunist, a bootlicker who always latched onto rising stars. To him, Ethan wasn't an enemy but a ladder—a potential stepping stone to greater success. Killing him would mean throwing away that opportunity.

But the assassin… He had slipped through the mansion's security with alarming ease, infiltrating Ethan's room like a ghost. That meant an inside hand had to be involved.

And if there was anyone who fit that description perfectly, it was Salvascon.

This was his mansion. Who knew its secret pathways better than him? If there was a hidden route that led directly to Ethan's room, Salvascon would know of it. He could have personally ensured the assassin got in and out without a trace.

The more Ethan thought about it, the more convinced he became.

Salvascon had already spoken of taking lives as if it were nothing. Sending an assassin to remove an obstacle? That wouldn't be a stretch for him.

And his motivation? Ethan could think of one.

Perhaps, after Ethan had let Lara go, Salvascon had panicked, fearing his carefully laid-out plan would crumble. So he had tried to eliminate Ethan and frame Lara or her brother, forcing former Night Commander Ralf to act against them.

Of course, Ethan dying in Salvascon's mansion would cause some problems for him. But given that Ethan was already practically exiled, Salvascon might have had ways to sweep the incident under the rug.

And now… he was sitting here, watching Ethan's every move.

Trying to gauge his reaction.

Trying to pressure him into making a decision.

A smooth, measured voice cut through Ethan's thoughts.

"Do you agree to my proposal, Master Ethan?"

Ethan's crimson eyes flickered with awareness as he snapped out of his contemplation. His heartbeat was steady, but he knew he had to stay calm—had to act normal.

Showing fear in front of this man would be a mistake.

Across the table, Salvascon sat poised, his fingers lightly resting against his wine glass. His eyes—cold and calculating—studied Ethan carefully.

Ethan inhaled slowly, then exhaled, forcing a relaxed expression onto his face.

"Well," he began, tilting his head slightly, "your plan is quite good, Mr. Redwood."

Salvascon's lips curved into a small, knowing smile as he took a sip of his wine.

But that smile froze.

Because Ethan wasn't done speaking.

"Unfortunately," Ethan continued, his tone carrying a faint smirk, "your plan is based on a wrong assumption."

Salvascon's eyes sharpened.

"Assumption?"

"Yes," Ethan leaned back in his chair, his arms resting lazily against the armrests. His crimson eyes glowed with amusement as he explained, "You're assuming Lara would tell her brother everything… because what happened was not with her consent."

He paused for effect, letting the words sink in. Then, with a knowing smirk, he added, "But that's where you're wrong."

Salvascon's expression darkened.

Ethan continued smoothly, "What happened between Lara and me? It was with both our consent."

Silence stretched between them.

Salvascon's fingers tightened around his glass. His once calm demeanor was slipping, his composure cracking.

"You're not serious, are you?" he asked, voice low.

Ethan chuckled.

"Oh, but I am."

He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice, but his tone dripped with confidence.

"After we were left alone, I unbound her from those magical restraints."

Salvascon's eyes widened in shock. His grip on the wine glass turned rigid.

"You did what?" he demanded.

Ethan's smirk deepened.

"You heard me."

Salvascon's chest rose and fell slightly faster, his expression twisting in disbelief.

"But then—how are you—?"

"How am I still alive?" Ethan finished for him, feigning curiosity.

He leaned back again, exuding pure arrogance.

"That's simple. Lara didn't kill me. In fact, after I unbound her, we had a rather… pleasant conversation. And, as you might expect," he gave a smug chuckle, "with my charm and good looks, I won her heart."

A muscle ticked in Salvascon's jaw.

Ethan's smirk widened. He had him.

"After that, what happened between us was completely consensual. And I assure you—" he lowered his voice just slightly, letting a teasing lilt slip in, "we both thoroughly enjoyed our time together."

Salvascon's fingers twitched. His expression shifted—anger, frustration, disbelief all warring on his face.

"You're lying."

"Oh?" Ethan raised an eyebrow, amused.

"Why would she suddenly fall for you in that situation?" Salvascon snapped. "She clearly didn't attack you because of the Night's presence in this mansion."

Ethan simply laughed.

"Mr. Redwood," he said smoothly, "haven't you heard? I have a reputation as the most cunning man in this country."

He gave a mock sigh, shaking his head as if in disappointment.

"Seducing girls is as easy as drinking and breathing for me—especially young maidens like Lara."

Salvascon's expression flickered again—this time, with a mix of rage and frustration.

Ethan tapped the table lightly, as if reminiscing. His smirk turned into something almost nostalgic.

"She was too easy."

A tense silence followed.

Salvascon's knuckles were white against the glass. His shoulders had gone stiff.

Ethan had completely derailed his plan.

Finally, Ethan pushed back his chair and stood up, stretching lazily.

"So, Mr. Redwood, your plan—while impressive—is ultimately useless to me." He dusted off his sleeves. "And frankly, I don't need to agree with it either."

Salvascon remained seated, his face now unreadable. But his aura had turned heavy, the frustration rolling off him in waves.

Ethan waved his hand dismissively.

"Now then, my breakfast is over. I'll be taking my leave."

He turned toward the door, his footsteps slow and deliberate.

Behind him, Salvascon's voice came, low and foreboding.

"You're making a mistake, Ethan."

Ethan paused at the doorway. Then, without turning back, he let a grin spread across his face.

"I don't mind making mistakes, Mr. Redwood."

His voice was light, almost teasing.

"After all, I've learned far more from them than from my successes."

And with that, he walked out, leaving Salvascon sitting there—fuming, his expression dark, his meticulously crafted plan in ruins.