Juliana stood there for a few long seconds, frozen in place, staring at the open doorway. Her eyes flicked between my bedroom and the bloodstained shirt in her hand.
Then, deliberately, she tucked the shirt beneath her good arm and stepped forward. Her footsteps echoed through the abominable chamber, sounding oddly graceful despite her injuries.
As she passed me, she glanced up. Her lips parted slightly, as if to say something — but then pressed shut again with a quiet tsk.
She stepped through the doorway and vanished into my room beyond.
I waited a few moments after she left, then clicked the door shut behind her — and finally let the calm expression slip from my face.
The tension in my shoulders drained out like poison from a wound as I exhaled.
It had gone better than expected. All of it.
I turned back to the lab — the green hue casting everything in a sickly shade — and made my way toward the shelf of Cards.
The Appraisal Card was right where it had been in the game — third from the left, marked with a subtle gold trim that most players missed on their first playthrough.
I plucked it from its place, inspecting the faint engraving of a silver eye at its center.
The Card’s name was [Identity].
“To know thy enemy is to survive them” — that was its description, written by Rexerd himself.
A touch of irony, considering he was killed by an unknown enemy.
Me.
I slipped the Card into my pocket and approached the pile of journals next, giving them a quick glance.
They were dusty, but intact. Bound in stitched leather, marked with codes I could only half-decipher.
In the game, after killing Rexerd, Michael reported this Dimensional Chamber to the Academy. He took the [Identity] Card and a few journals with him — leaving everything else untouched.
The Academy then compiled a detailed report on the Syndicate and passed all the evidence they found to the Central Monarch.
In response, the Central Monarch ordered her Knights and the Hunter Association to declare war on the Nameless Lords.
Of course, Rexerd’s collusion with the Syndicate alone wasn’t enough. The Syndicate had committed far worse crimes — all of which had to come to light.
Like orchestrating the fall of Ishtara, turning it into a three-way battlefield between Monarchs.
Like assassinating the Royal Twins, Alice and Willem.
Like stealing the Mirror Beast from beneath the Noctveil Wilds and using it to terrorize the Bleeding Lands — where my father’s Golden Sanctuary was.
And many, many more.
It had taken time for the Monarchs to piece everything together — to realize who was pulling the strings behind the curtain.
In the game, it wasn’t until a quarter of the main storyline had passed that war was finally declared against the Nameless Lords.
But right now, the story was only just beginning.
And I’d already stopped the war for Ishtara.
I’d already killed Rexerd.
So… did I really need to report this lab to the Academy?
I didn’t think so.
I could take my time — study Rexerd’s research, analyze his ideas — and discreetly report it all to the Academy later.
Because as mentally twisted as he was, Rexerd had been a genius. Michael learned a great deal from just a few of his journals in the game.
And here I had an entire archive.
Rexerd was working on so many things — hybrid creatures, soul grafting, the truth about Origin Cards and so much more.
So much knowledge. I couldn’t waste it.
“So it’s decided,” I murmured. “I’ll keep this lab.”
For now, at least.
And report it after the assassination attempt on the Royal Twins.
“Moooaaaghrr!”
I frowned at the guttural groan that echoed from one of the containment pods — a gaunt humanoid, skinless, eyeless, its limbs stretched thin like wire.
Then my gaze swept over the rest of the creatures here, all disfigured by none other than the previous owner of this lab.
“Haaa,” I sighed. “But first, I need to figure out how to put these things down.”
And also… dispose of Rexerd’s corpse.
•••
I spent the rest of the day tending to my injuries while planning my next steps.
First, I had to clarify my priorities.
Finding a strong mental ward and burying Asmodeus’ Summoning Card somewhere it could never be found — those were high on the list.
But even before that, there was the Academy Excursion event. Selene Valkryn would be leading the first-years on their first real venture into the Spirit Realm. Not into a simulation dome — but the real thing. It was supposed to be our semi-final physical examination.
After that, I needed to focus on stopping the Queen of Black Rot and destroying the Seed of Eternal Blight. That task alone was going to be hellishly difficult.
And in the midst of all that, I still had to keep growing stronger — at a rapid rate, no less.
The next few arcs were going to be challenging.
Especially since I was probably forgetting a few key events.
Hopefully not.
Curse my bad memory.
Anyway, I finished the day with a long, much-needed soak in my balcony plunge pool and then slept like a baby.
Did I waste a full day? Maybe. But in my defense, I was tired! Sue me!
“You look worse than a dead fish.”
I turned my head to find Juliana walking beside me, eyeing me with a sidelong glance.
“What?” I narrowed my eyes.
“I said you don’t look very good today, Young Master,” she repeated smoothly — definitely not what she said the first time.
I raised a brow. “So what you’re saying is… I don’t look drop-dead hot today?”
She gave me a long look and said nothing.
“Tsk,” I clicked my tongue.
Well, she wasn’t wrong.
Despite getting a solid eight hours of sleep, I still felt like a zombie — sluggish, heavy-limbed, dark circles under my eyes, and a headache that just refused to go away.
Yes, even Awakened had migraines.
One night’s rest wasn’t enough. I was so tired that I needed a few days off.
But accomplishing a certain task today was also very important.
‘Maybe I’ll take a break after this,’ — I thought to myself.
“Where are we going, anyway?” Juliana asked.
She was wearing her Academy uniform, short hair tied up in a practical ponytail. Her right arm was in a cast, her left wrapped tightly in bandages.
I, on the other hand… was still in pajamas.
Okay, yeah, I was too lazy to change into something stylish. Again — sue me!
“To a friend’s place,” I said.
Juliana blinked, then gasped in an exaggerated display of shock. “You have a friend?”
I deadpanned. “You think you’re funny, huh? Fine. Not a friend. An acquaintance.”
We entered a dorm building, took the lift, and exited onto the top floor.
As we reached room number 420, I turned to her and asked, “How are your wounds?”
“Healed,” she replied coolly.
“And your hands?” I inquired further.
She nodded impassively. “They need rest. But I can move them.”
“Good,” I nodded. “Then break this.”
Juliana blinked. “Break what?”
“This door,” I said, pointing at it.
She stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “I’m sorry?”
“You heard me.”
“You want me to break down a door,” she said slowly, “with a broken arm and a half-dead hand?”
“Exactly,” I said with a shrug. “Consider it physical therapy. And a punishment for waking me up this early.”
“Early?!” she almost threw her arms up. “It’s eight in the morning! And you told me to come meet you at this time!”
I shook my head. “Just because I asked for it doesn’t mean you didn’t do anything wrong.”
She stared at me, her expression completely unreadable. “You’re unbelievable.”
I smirked. “Unbelievably effective.”
She looked like she wanted to punch me, but given her current condition, it’d probably hurt her more than me.
With a huff, she turned to the door and gave it a once-over. It was reinforced, warded, and probably rigged with an alarm system. Basic dormitory security.
Juliana summoned a physical enhancement Card, raised her foot, and kicked. Hard.
There was a clang, a sharp snap, and a rather impressive crack as one of the locks gave out — but the door held.
She hissed in pain and stepped back, shaking her bandaged hand. “If I break my foot doing this, I swear—”
“Just one more try,” I encouraged, stepping aside with the kind of smug grin that always made people want to punch me.
This time, she leaned back, braced herself, and gave it a proper stomp.
Her heel broke. So did the rest of the locks. The door swung open.
“See? Easy,” I said, walking in like we were expected.
She limped after me, muttering something about homicide and diplomatic immunity. I pretended not to hear.
We passed the living hall and stepped into the bedroom. I strolled up to the nearest closet like the place was mine, opened it, and started rummaging through it.
Unfortunately, before I could find what I was looking for, a tall teen with hair as blue as glacier ice and a sharp scowl on his charming face came rushing out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, water dripping, and dignity barely hanging on.
That young man was, of course, the one who lived here — Vince Cleverly.
He froze.
I froze.
Juliana froze… then quietly stepped behind me like I was her meat shield instead of the other way around.
“Samael?!” Vince shouted, jabbing an accusatory finger in my direction. “Why the hell have you broken into my apartment?! Again!”
“Technically she broke in this time,” I said, pointing straight at Juliana.
“She’s your Shadow!” he yelled. “She did it for you!”
“Allegedly,” I corrected.
Before he could accuse me of something else as well, Vince’s gaze shifted to the open closet.
And then he lunged forward. “Get away from—!”
I didn’t bother with him and casually waved a hand, “Juli, do something.”
Vince didn’t even get within five feet.
Juliana dashed forward, ducked under his outstretched arm, and swept his feet out from under him in one sweeping kick.
He hit the ground with a thud and a startled groan.
Sprawled, he looked up… only to find a kunai hovering inches from his face.
Juliana had a foot planted firmly on his stomach, pinning him like an afterthought. She stared down at him with the kind of certainty that made even the brave think twice.
“Don’t move,” she said simply.
And Vince actually hesitated.
Because those eyes she had…
Those weren’t the eyes of a girl bluffing.
Those were the eyes of a killer.
…Unfortunately for her, she wasn’t the only killer in the room.
Vince gritted his teeth and began summoning his Origin Card.
But before he could—
“Ah! Here it is!” I declared, pulling out a gray stone slate from his closet with a victorious grin.
Vince’s eyes widened in horror. “Wait! Do you even know what that is?!”
I glanced at him, entirely too pleased with myself. “Of course. It’s the Slate of Ten Commandments, isn’t it?”