Chapter 13: Faint Echoes

As the evening drew to a close, Azalea was ready to go back to school. Liliana watched as the family's car disappeared down the road, a fleeting warmth fading into the distance. The moment it was gone, the silence of the estate pressed down on her, heavy and unmoving.

She turned back towards the mansion, heading upstairs. Before she realized it, her steps had slowed, her gaze fixed ahead.

That sound again.

Faint, like a breath slipping through the cracks. It was there—lurking. Pulling her towards the eerily quiet hallway.

The hallway stretched long and empty, leading to the staircase that loomed in the dark. Shadows clung to it like an old stain, untouched yet never truly gone. That place…The air there always felt colder.

A steady rhythm of footsteps shattered the stillness.

Liliana stiffened, shaking off the illusion just as a familiar voice cut through the spell.

"Why don't you greet your brother anymore?"

Albert stood a few steps away, watching her. He hadn't raised his voice, but the weight of his presence was enough to pull her fully back to reality.

Her fingers curled at her sides before she relaxed them. "Third Brother."

His gaze lingered on her for a beat longer than necessary before he held out a paper bag. "I was just looking for you. I got a ticket to Master Laurent's final concert."

Liliana's breath caught. She knew about the concert—it was something she had wanted to attend, but she never thought she'd have the chance. Carefully, she took the bag.

"You can go with your friend," Albert added as if it were a casual afterthought.

She traced the edge of the bag with her thumb before nodding. "Thank you."

Albert hummed in response, his gaze flickering past her. Almost absentmindedly, his eyes lingered on the staircase.

A chill ran down her spine.

"It's best not to linger near such unlucky places," he said, lightly reminding.

She forced a smile. "Of course."

Without looking back, she stepped past him and walked away.

Liliana pulled out the contents of the bag in her room. Nestled inside was a neatly wrapped piece of strawberry cake.

Her lips pressed together as she unwrapped it, scooping a small bite with the provided utensil.

It was a familiar taste. Her gaze dropped to the ticket in her hand. The hesitation in her eyes settled into something firm—something resolute.

She would do whatever it takes. If it meant freedom.

Liliana sat in front of the vanity, the glow of her phone screen illuminated her face.

She set the phone down again but didn't put it away. Tossing and repeating, her fingers idly brushed over the device, hesitating—lingering.

Her gaze shifted to a newly added name in her contacts.

There had been no movement.

What would be more sincere? She was betting on her chances.

Her thumb hovered over the screen, debating.

The rain outside pattered lightly against the windows, masking something unknown beneath its rhythm.

---

The air in the room was thick—stagnant, carrying the scent of rust and damp wood. The yellow glow of a single overhead bulb cast long shadows, stretching over the figures that littered the ground.

Boots scraped against the floor, shifting debris as a body was forced down.

A faint groan. The man knelt at gunpoint, his breathing ragged, eyes darting wildly between the still-warm bodies of his fallen companions.

A low voice broke the silence. His words drawling.

"Let me guess… Who gave you the courage to run wild in my territory?"

The kneeling man flinched. Fear flickered in his eyes, but he clenched his teeth, hands trembling at his sides.

His silence was met with quiet amusement.

"Nothing to say?"

The cold barrel of the gun pressed against his temple.

He swallowed hard. "I-I was just following orders… I swear—"

"Orders?" Nolan's tone remained casual, almost uninterested.

A pause. Then—

"Forget it. I'm not that curious."

He said it as if the answer no longer mattered.

For a brief second, the man thought he had a chance.

But reality came crashing down with the next words.

"Take care of it."

The cold order shattered his fleeting hope.

The surrounding men moved without hesitation, dragging the trembling figure away. There was no need for further discussion.

Nolan leaned back against the wooden table, wiping his gun leisurely.

Across from him, Harley adjusted the cuffs of his neatly pressed sleeves—his sharp suit standing in stark contrast to the grim surroundings.

He looked out of place in a setting like this. So did Nolan.

And yet, they belonged here more than anyone.

"The losses are barely noticeable," Harley reported, voice steady. "But they're growing bolder."

There was no need to elaborate. They both knew the ones responsible.

An old family, once powerful in the underground world, now struggling to hold onto what little remained.

Harley scoffed. "They should know better." Disdain laced his tone.

Nolan listened, and with an absent flick of his fingers, he gave his order.

"Teach them a lesson."

At that moment, the wooden table vibrated. The glow of his phone screen reflected his dark eyes. A message popped up.

It was a picture. A ticket?

Another message followed.

I have an extra ticket. It'd be a waste if I went alone.

Harley, flipping through the reports beside him, just happened to glance over and almost did a double-take. Was the Second Master...texting a woman?!

Before he could process the absurdity, Nolan exhaled through his nose, a half-smirk playing at his lips. His fingers moved lazily over the screen.

Where?

No immediate response.

He raised a brow, Tapping the edge of his phone against the desk, he glanced up–only to meet Harley's questioning stare.

A dangerous pause.

"Do you not need your eyes anymore?" Nolan asked, his tone as casual as discussing coffee.

Harley coughed violently, straightening immediately. "That—Second Master, I just remembered I need to....uh–go check on something important." He turned on his heel and fled.

Nolan sneered, shifting his attention back to his phone.

The other party sent a location.