Before long, they arrived at a grand, luxurious residential estate.
The car slowed down as they entered the private estate of the Virellano family. Beyond the ornate black-and-gold iron gates stood a grand house built on vast land.
Tall pillars supported the front terrace, manicured gardens surrounded the main building, and large glass windows reflected the gloomy afternoon sky.
Everything looked luxurious—and cold.
Al looked around, visibly impressed by the architecture and the layout of the estate—
a massive residential complex that felt less like a neighborhood and more like a grand royal palace, if not for its modern aesthetic.
It wasn't just the main house—there were several auxiliary buildings and facilities scattered throughout.
So this is my home? It feels like a huge countryside estate taken over by one family. Elites really do love their excesses. he wondered.
But honestly, that's not a problem—the only odd thing is that this family only has ten core members, with no branch families.
Which means everyone else living here are just workers. Don't they ever feel lonely?
He kept looking around, taking in more of the view, until one building across the wide garden caught his attention in particular.
It wasn't the building itself, but something that seemed to emanate from it.
Huh? What's that? Something spiritual?
The young man frowned slightly as he stared at the small building.
Don't tell me I just got here and already found the relic… he wondered.
He shook his head faintly.
No. No. That's not it. The sensation's different — there's no resonance with my eyes. And there's still no certainty the relic is even here.
It's probably just some ancient energy that happens to linger in this place.
Still, it caught his interest.
But it's fascinating… I guess even with all this modern progress, spirituality still hasn't lost its place — not even in a family this powerful.
Edward glanced at Al with a sharp look—like someone watching a country boy seeing a mansion for the first time.
Still, for some reason, he found it a little amusing. But he didn't say a word. He simply turned away and checked his watch.
Moments later, the car came to a smooth stop in front of the main building's grand entrance.
Without waiting, his father stepped out of the car. He stood tall, greeted by a butler who bowed deeply. Edward then looked briefly at Al, who was just stepping out.
"Go inside with Harun. Your mother is waiting," his father said curtly. "I have to head straight to the office."
"Yeah, Al, hurry inside. They're probably dying to see you already," his uncle, Khalil chimed in while poking his head out of the car window.
Al only gave a small nod.
Edward slipped back into the car and drove off—no hug, no smile, not even the slightest sign that he was glad to see his son again.
Meanwhile, Khalil waved his hand lazily, as if the whole moment didn't deserve too much sentiment anyway.
A well-dressed middle-aged man stood beside Al. Al recognized him as the same person who greeted Edward earlier. The man gave him a polite nod.
"Welcome to the Virellano residence, Young Master Al. My name is Harun," he said respectfully.
He was Harun, the family's head butler. His voice was warm, yet carried the tone of someone who had spent his life walking on strict rules and protocol.
Al nodded faintly. His eyes followed the car as it left, watching it disappear along with the fading sound of the engine.
Inside the car, Edward glanced at the rearview mirror.
His expression was as flat as ever. No one could tell what he was feeling now—happy, indifferent, or something else entirely.
Khalil looked at him through the mirror and asked casually,
"Brother-in-law… cold as ever, huh? At least give the kid a hug, hehe."
Edward only shook his head. There was a hint of hesitation—he had thought about it. But Al was already seventeen.
"Hugging him like a child… that doesn't feel right anymore," Edward replied.
Khalil just smiled and nodded, not pushing the topic any further.
Edward's gaze fell on the empty seat beside him, where Al had been moments earlier.
On the edge of the leather cushion was a faint trace of moisture—sweat, maybe… or drool? Edward sighed helplessly.
"That boy needs to toughen up. His life has changed. He needs to learn how to be an elite. I only hope he can… especially stop looking so rustic and sloppy," he muttered.
"I agree, brother-in-law. Hopefully he adapts quickly. His environment just flipped nearly 180 degrees," Khalil replied.
Edward nodded, then picked up a file on his lap and opened it.
Nothing inside—not beyond physical details and a single note stating that Al was raised in an orphanage. No trace of his life before, no trace of what happened after.
Edward remembered what the orphanage director told him: certain records were sealed by the government, requiring permission from the Ministry of Child Protection and its partner foundation.
"This is strange… why is the government and the foundation involved this deeply? You should know more, right?" Edward asked quietly.
Khalil nodded.
"I held back from telling you because I thought it might be dangerous. But maybe telling just this much won't hurt," he said.
He turned slightly to look at the driver, his eyes sharp—warning him that what he was about to say must stay buried.
The driver stiffened, sweating a little. He nodded, signaling that he understood.
Once Khalil felt secure, he continued.
"I can't go into details, so I hope you'll understand the point I'm about to make." His tone turned serious.
Edward nodded.
"This is related to a request from the World Magic Association," Khalil said.
"The… World Magic Association?" Edward repeated, stunned.
Khalil nodded again.
"Recently, we've become more aggressive in our operations. There's been an increase in cases involving people with… corrupted energy—terrifying energy capable of disrupting the world's natural order,"
He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and showed Edward a photo of a man's back—marked with a tattoo resembling a seven-pointed star.
"For example, you must have heard of the Calamity. We suspect he's one of the entities with corrupted energy, though it hasn't been confirmed yet," Khalil continued.
"But regardless of whether his energy is corrupted or not, my point is—you can imagine the level of horror involved."
Edward's eyes widened.
"The Calamity? That mysterious young man who wiped out the entire Kalla family in a single night, two years ago?"
"Yep. That's just one example of how terrifying people like this can be," Khalil replied. "And it's the reason we've been intensifying our search."
The story alone was enough to send chills through everyone inside the car.
For the past ten years, East Indorosia had been ruled by four major families.
The Virellano family focused on mining and technology.
Norvalien dominated fisheries and maritime industries.
Tamarvich controlled real estate and property development.
And the strongest of them all—the Kalla family—held power over agriculture, forestry, and even government affairs. Naturally, that also gave them influence over a large portion of the underground world.
But a single reckless move, born purely from arrogance, destroyed them overnight.
Arrogance toward a man they believed came from the lowest class.
Only later did they realize they had provoked someone they never should have crossed.
The Kalla family was wiped out in a single night by a mysterious man cloaked in black.
Days later, every remaining branch of the Kalla lineage vanished as well—as if the family had been erased from its roots to the very tips of its leaves.
No one knew who the man was except the Kalla family themselves. No one ever saw his face—because everyone who did was killed.
The only evidence left behind was a blurry amateur photo showing his partially exposed back, marked with a mysterious tattoo.
People called him the Calamity.
Yet some called him a hero—those who had long suffered under the Kalla family's oppression.
Even though not many truly believed it was real, and more reasonable theories began to surface, the horror of the story was still enough to send chills down the spine of anyone who heard it.
No one knew who he truly was or where he came from.
But rumors said he was still in Makazhar City—a rumor that forced every elite figure to rein in their arrogance toward the lower class.
Silence filled the car for a moment before Khalil continued.
"We usually refer to people like that as cursed humans among ourselves," he said. "And Al just happens to be on the list of suspected individuals."
He shook his head slightly.
"Unfortunately, my position isn't high enough. I don't have the clearance to dig any deeper into the data."
Edward's eyes widened as he stared at Khalil.
"I don't really understand much about the world of magic," he said slowly, "but this sounds far more dangerous than I ever imagined. Does that mean Al…?"
Khalil immediately shook his head.
"Not necessarily. So far, the potential is very low, and actually keeps getting lower. That's why he's still free," he explained.
Edward released a quiet breath of relief. He wanted to say something, but before he could, Khalil's tone suddenly turned heavier.
"But…" Khalil continued. "Still be careful. And make sure no one else knows except us."
Hearing that, Edward realized how dangerous this information actually was. He contemplated for a moment, then nodded.
"Since you won't be living at the house for now, how am I supposed to recognize whether he's a cursed human? What danger does that entail, and how do I prepare for it?"
Khalil thought deeply, weighing what he could and couldn't reveal. Then he answered,
"That's simple. The only sign I can safely disclose is… they have anger issues. But with Al, from what we've observed, it's the opposite. He looks like someone who doesn't even know how to get angry."
"To make sure… you can test him," Khalil added. "Just make sure the security at home is strong enough to restrain him if he really is a cursed human."
Edward still felt the explanation was vague, but for now, it was enough.
"Huff… alright," Edward finally agreed.
"Hmph… so we don't really know his background, then. Do you know anything else that might help me understand him better?"
Khalil shook his head.
"Nothing useful. Whatever I know won't be too different from the orphanage information. But I don't think that's a big problem."he replied.
"I suppose you'll have to ask Al directly later. You're his father, after all. Getting answers from your own son shouldn't be that hard—especially just about his background."
"You're right," Edward said, nodding. "I'm... his father."
Khalil nodded back, turning his eyes forward again.
And the car continued down the road, leaving Edward to swim quietly in the unease that followed.