“What is it?”

Su Hong’s heart hammered violently in his chest. A wave of dizziness washed over him, as if his brain were starved of oxygen.

Yet Lia’s grandfather simply pointed to the chair across from him, gesturing for Su Hong to sit.

Su Hong barely registered how he reached the chair or sank into it, limbs trembling.

But when he looked up, the old man remained stubbornly silent.

“Just tell me—what is it?”

“Well…”

Lia’s grandfather lifted his gaze to Su Hong, then let out a long, guilt-laden sigh.

Su Hong could hold back no longer. He shot abruptly to his feet, voice shaking as he roared, “Tell me now! What happened to Lia?! Did something happen to her?! Was it the Spirit Card Academy?!”

His eyes burned bloodshot with fury—so terrifying that Lia’s grandfather nearly tumbled off his chair.

Until now, Su Hong had always seemed harmless and gentle. When had anyone seen him like this? It felt as if an apocalyptic seal had just shattered.

But in the next breath, the old man spat sharply onto the floor—*Pah! Pah! Pah!*—and shot Su Hong a fierce glare.

“Pah! Pah! Pah! Good fortune, good fortune! What nonsense are you spouting? Lia’s perfectly fine—how could anything happen? We received word today: she arrived safely at the Spirit Card Academy. Are you mad? Trying to scare this old man?!”

“…”

Su Hong sank back into the chair, strength draining from his body. Leaning against the backrest, he exhaled slowly. “Just say it plainly. Why build up that tension? *I* scared *you*? You scared *me*! Is this fun?”

“Who’s scaring you? This old man truly has… mmmph… something important to… mmmph…”

As he spoke, Lia’s grandfather stuffed his mouth full of jelly eggplant, utterly undermining any seriousness.

Su Hong pinched the bridge of his nose, utterly helpless against this mischievous old man.

At least Lia was safe.

Su Hong disliked losing his temper. But cross that forbidden line? He wouldn’t hesitate to show them true hell. For him, effortless.

Unlike Su Hong, the old man seemed unbothered. Only after wolfing down the food did he wipe his mouth and speak.

“Su Hong… that day this old man urged Lia to leave you for the Spirit Card Academy—do you blame this old man? Truth is, since she left, this old man’s heart has ached. Guilty toward you. Came today to apologize… but this old man rarely does such things. Not sure how.”

“Of course not. You miss her more than I do, right? It’s her dream. Supporting her is right. And… in about two months—no, sooner—I’ll take you to see her.”

Su Hong replied casually, finally steadying his breath and emotions. He scooped a spoonful of jelly eggplant.

Lia’s grandfather let out a soft *hehe* chuckle. Different from his usual mischief—this one carried deep, weathered emotion.

“Su Hong… someone as sharp and confident as you is rare.”

Just as Su Hong prepared a modest reply, the old man added: “Very much like this old man in his youth.”

╰(‵□′)╯

*Who thought this geezer was praising me? Drag them out. Behead them.*

Stroking his beard, swaying slightly side to side, the old man asked, “Do you know why this old man and Lia both hope so deeply for her to become an outstanding Spirit Cardmaster?”

“So besides power… there’s another reason?”

“In the far north lies a land called the Trichrome Wasteland. This old man was born there—spent half a life in chains. Only after escaping did I grasp the limits of ordinary strength.”

Su Hong felt a flicker of déjà vu but stayed silent.

“Only true power shields you from cruelty. So this old man’s son—Lia’s father—chased the path of Spirit Cardmaster. But soon after Lia’s birth… her parents were killed. We never learned why. This old man refuses to accept it. And though Lia says nothing… she strives for the same reason.”

No sorrow marked the old man’s face—only fury compressed deep in his bones. So dense it felt near tangible.

Su Hong knew this feeling well.

Frustration against an unseen enemy, a vast unknowable force with no outlet. Like his own lifelong fight against fate.

Now he understood the mansion’s untouched, spotless double room—always waiting.

*Perhaps…*

He buried the thought instantly.

One day, he’d break free from this damned fate. Until then, uncertainty remained. Every trace of emotion gathered would forge the strength to shatter every obstacle ahead.

During dinner, Lia’s grandfather spoke little—only a quiet weight of guilt over separating them.

---

Meanwhile, at the Chris Guild, Chris strolled toward a corner room, hands clasped behind his back, waddling like a wild duck with a smug hum.

“How goes the Spirit Card replication, my friend?”

Inside, the Spirit Glyphsmith stood frozen before the desk. Beside the auctioned Spirit Card lay a heap of ruined copies.

Hearing Chris enter, the man turned slowly—face twisted as if he’d just swallowed a live earthworm.

“This is absurd! What anti-theft measure coats a Spirit Card in an impenetrable shell?! Impossible!”

Chris froze, voice tight with anguish. “What do you mean? Don’t tell me—5,000 gold for a card we can’t copy?! Why pay that much for something useless? Am I an idiot?!”

“I don’t know! Give me days—no, bring in other Spirit Glyphsmiths. We *must* solve this!”