The following week passed almost in the blink of an eye.
There were no major confrontations, explosive revelations, or headline-worthy nights in Mystic Falls. The town carried on with its strange yet familiar rhythm. After all, people remained oblivious to the truth about the supernatural world, and since time waits for no one, life moved forward steadily and uninterrupted.
At school, everything seemed strangely normal.
Mystic Falls High School remained noisy, filled with crowded hallways, surprise tests, and trivial conversations that sounded almost ordinary, considering they were all hormone-fueled teenagers.
Elena consciously tried to reclaim a sense of routine: classes, notebooks, laughter with Bonnie and Caroline during breaks, as if normalcy could be rebuilt through repetition. She even rejoined the cheerleading squad, and in a way, it worked. To everyone's eyes, she was once again just an ordinary girl living out her senior year of high school.
The only secret she kept was spending more time at Ryan's house than at her own. The nights and early mornings when the two of them simply had sex—and somehow it didn't stop at his apartment, extending to the elevator, the car, and even the school during breaks—those frequent encounters and the intensity of their relationship formed a parallel life that no one seemed to notice. On the outside, everything appeared normal; on the inside, her life moved at a far more intense pace than anyone could imagine…
And she absolutely loved that life—it was so much more thrilling.
Because she was living it all beside the love of her life.
Honestly, she felt she had finally achieved something she had always silently desired: a love capable of consuming her completely. Whenever she was with Ryan, it was like being swept up in a whirlwind of emotions, a true cocktail that left her intoxicated with happiness. It didn't matter whether it was through their intimacy or the simplest moments they shared, in which he always found a way to turn anything into something special and exciting.
Beside him, everything felt more intense, more alive. She laughed more, felt more, surrendered more. And without a shadow of doubt, she knew it deep in her heart: she loved Ryan profoundly, in a way she had never loved anyone before.
Well, she wasn't the "only one."
Bonnie was absent for two days, officially "sick," and no one questioned it much. When she returned, she was noticeably quieter. Something had changed in her: a sharper awareness of her surroundings, a gaze that seemed to catch details previously overlooked. She began spending more time with her grandmother and less at school.
With Ryan, however, everything remained the same—or even better, even more intense. Now that both knew about the "supernatural side" of the world, the intimacy between them only deepened. Bonnie started spending long hours at his house, especially when Elena wasn't there. On those occasions, they had sex until exhaustion: he was her first and only love, and she simply couldn't resist the desire when they were alone, whether in his apartment or anywhere they had privacy. Still, she was far more reserved than Elena and never allowed herself to do that kind of thing in public or risky places, like school.
Sensing the strange dynamic between Ryan, Elena, and Bonnie, Caroline realized something was being hidden. She didn't question it directly—not for lack of curiosity, but because she was too busy trying to get Ryan's attention.
She didn't make a secret of it, nor did she try to hide it. Casual comments here and there, smiles that lingered a little longer than necessary, frequent approaches under any pretext. Nothing explicit, but far from innocent.
There was even a moment when the two nearly crossed an undefined line, interrupted before anything actually happened. Caroline's frustration was evident. She didn't hide how much she wanted more than those exchanged glances and silent provocations, and the interruption only made it clearer…
She had a difficult week.
On the other hand, the Salvatore brothers seemed to have disappeared from town.
Ryan noticed, of course. But he didn't care in the slightest.
Besides having spent the week having a lot of sex—which, by itself, already put him in an excellent mood—he also took advantage of the rare calm to train to exhaustion and start making precise investments focused on building wealth in the medium term.
The training, in particular, yielded excellent results. He could feel his body adapting faster and faster to that constant restructuring, as if it was finally "accepting" the change instead of resisting it. The difference from the previous week was striking; his body had naturally become much stronger in every aspect. But the most evident progress came from his [Cursed Energy], which had increased absurdly, growing at an exponential and natural rate. After making an honest estimate, he realized he had already reached about three-tenths of the reserves of the King of Curses at his peak…
Leaving aside his "body" and his "cursed energy," thanks to the experience inherited from the King of Curses, he didn't need to train control or learn the use of his Innate Technique from scratch. Even so, he chose to do so. It wasn't enough to simply possess Sukuna's memories and familiarity. He wanted all of it to feel natural to himself, not just a reflection of another existence. He wanted to feel that the power was truly his.
That was why he began familiarizing himself even more with the [Shrine], becoming capable of using [Dismantle] and [Cleave] with even greater ease than before—almost instinctively. Each cut, each adjustment of energy, flowed with increasing precision, as if his body was finally accepting those techniques as part of his own identity, even though he was unable to use some of their variations the way Sukuna did…
It was at that moment that he realized there were clear limits.
He remained unable to open his "Domain," much less use [Kamino: Fūga]. That bothered him. Technically, he knew how to use both. Sukuna's experience was imprinted on his soul and body, and in theory, he possessed everything necessary.
The only plausible explanation he could find was simple, though frustrating: the "restructuring" process of his body had not yet reached a sufficiently advanced level.
Until that transformation was complete, certain aspects of the King of Curses' power would remain inaccessible—not due to lack of knowledge, but due to structural limitation.
And that meant only one thing.
He needed time.
And until then, he would keep training.
As for the investments, they began yielding returns almost immediately. He didn't waste time: he took the initial profit and reinvested it all aggressively, converting most of it into Bitcoin and using the rest to further expand his portfolio.
The effect was quick and cumulative. A true financial snowball formed, with gains continuously and calculatedly feeding new investments. In less than a week, even accounting for fees, fluctuations, and natural market discounts, the total value had already reached tens of thousands of dollars.
A sum he kept for now, since in the future, when he dated multiple women at the same time, he would need money to support them…
Aside from that, the week passed quickly with nothing "interesting" happening—at least not obviously.
But that didn't mean things would remain that way forever.
.
.
.
.
.
Night fell heavily over Mystic Falls, too silent for a town that pretended at normalcy so convincingly. The yellowish streetlights illuminated empty streets, while atop a distant hill, the Salvatore Boarding House remained shrouded in normalcy.
Inside the house, the air was thick.
Stefan sat in the living room, his body rigid in an old armchair, a glass of whiskey resting loosely between his fingers. The fireplace was unlit, but he stared at an undefined point in its direction, jaw clenched, his expression difficult to put into words—one of those faces someone makes when holding back rage and hatred that threatened to overflow.
The door burst open.
Damon entered without bothering to hide his anger. His coat was thrown carelessly over his shoulders, his gaze blazing, his heavy footsteps echoing across the old floorboards.
"I'm done waiting, Stefan!" His voice came out laced with venom. "How long are we going to sit here doing nothing? When are we going to get our revenge?"
Stefan didn't move immediately. He simply brought the glass to his lips and took a slow sip, as if trying to maintain some kind of control.
"Patience," he replied without raising his voice. "I still haven't thought of a decent plan. Not one that doesn't end with both of us dead."
Damon let out a short, bitter laugh.
"Patience?" He ran a hand through his hair, walking toward the bar to grab a bottle of whiskey and drinking as he continued. "Are you kidding me?"
Stefan raised his eyes to him, his gaze hard.
"No. I'm being realistic." He braced himself on the arms of the armchair. "Ryan is stronger than both of us combined. Even now. And no, going back to drinking human blood doesn't change that. Even if I've gotten stronger, the chances of us dying in a direct fight are too high…"
The words only poured more gasoline on the fire.
Damon exploded.
"I had to go pick up my ear the next day, Stefan. My ear. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was?!"
The silence that followed was heavy.
Stefan stood up abruptly, slamming the glass down on the table.
"Don't talk to me like I'm doing better." His voice finally broke through the restraint. "I'm more than furious too."
He took a few steps forward, his gaze dark, almost empty.
"He took something from me that will never come back…" His voice came out low, loaded with pure hatred. "He turned me into a eunuch… forever."
Damon froze for a second.
The word echoed in his mind like a trigger.
His face slowly contorted, rage giving way to something even darker, more murderous. His hands clenched into fists so tight the bones cracked, and the one holding the bottle shattered it without him caring…
"…Yeah." His voice came out low, venomous. "Now we both are."
Silence returned to dominate the room, but it was no longer an empty silence.
It lasted a few moments before being broken by Stefan, who stepped forward and placed a hand on Damon's shoulder. The gesture wasn't gentle, but it wasn't aggressive either—he wanted his brother to pay attention to his words…
"Calm down, Damon…" Stefan's voice came out firm. "I know exactly what you're feeling. I want to tear that bastard apart piece by piece too. But not now…"
Damon reacted almost on reflex. He slapped his brother's hand away hard, his gaze blazing, lips curling into a crooked, contempt-filled smile.
"Then spit it out, little brother!" he growled. "What's your plan, Stefan? Because sitting here stewing in hate isn't going to give me anything back."
Stefan took a deep breath before answering. He paced a few steps across the room, running a hand over his face as if organizing his thoughts.
"I thought about calling Lexi… and maybe a few other acquaintances…" he said finally. "No matter how strong Ryan is, he shouldn't be able to handle several vampires at once…"
"Especially vampires like Lexi, who are older than both of us and, consequently, much stronger."
Stefan stopped walking and fell silent for a moment, his gaze distant, clearly weighing the risks.
"If we're going to deal with this…" he added in a low, serious voice, "we can't underestimate him… but we also can't go in unprepared."
Damon let out a dry, humorless laugh and ran a hand over his face impatiently.
"So now I have to ask for help?" He shook his head. "I'm not going to depend on others for my revenge. This is between us and that… monster."
Stefan clenched his jaw, keeping his voice steady.
"And going alone will get you killed straight away." He replied bluntly. "What else do you think you can do against him, Damon? He nearly killed us for fun. His abilities are a mystery—that didn't seem like normal magic. He can cut parts of our bodies without us even noticing!"
Damon just snorted, his eyes gleaming with something dangerous.
"Oh, there's always a way to hurt someone." His smile curved slowly, venomous. "You said yourself he's too strong for a direct attack. But no one is invulnerable."
Stefan felt his stomach sink.
Damon continued, his voice lower, almost casual.
"He seemed to care quite a bit about those three girls he told us to stay away from…"
The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly.
"No." Stefan answered too quickly, stepping forward. "Don't even think about it, Damon."
Damon raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise.
"What? I'm just saying there are targets that don't fight back."
"That's a terrible idea." Stefan shot back, anger now evident in his voice. "It's not just wrong because it involves innocent people. It's suicide."
Damon shrugged.
"Wrong has never been my problem."
Stefan clenched his fists.
"Do you really think he'd let that slide?" His voice came out hard, carrying something almost desperate. "If you touch them, he won't torture us. He'll kill us. Remember he made it very clear he wouldn't give us a second chance?"
Damon fell silent for a moment.
Stefan continued, his gaze intense.
"You want revenge." He took a deep breath. "So do I. But provoking uncontrollable rage in him right now only guarantees we'll never get there."
Damon looked away, lips pressed into a thin line. For a brief second, something different crossed his face.
"She's still important to you, isn't she?" he said finally, in a lower tone. "Elena. I know she was the reason you stayed in Mystic Falls…"
Stefan froze.
Even after everything he had lost, even knowing she was now with Ryan, his feelings for her hadn't diminished in the slightest. On the contrary, part of his motivation was to kill that monster to protect her!
"Don't you dare involve her in this." He replied, his voice controlled by sheer willpower. "I won't allow it."
Damon stared at him for several long seconds, assessing, measuring. Then he let out an irritated sigh.
"…Fine." He said finally, with a half-mocking smile. "For now."
He walked toward the stairs, tossing the rest of the whiskey bottle onto the floor.
"I'll go along with your plan. But don't confuse that with obedience, little brother." He stopped on the first step and turned his head slightly. "If this wait drags on too long, I'll make my own plan."
Stefan stood motionless in the living room, watching his brother climb the stairs.
Deep down, he knew.
This was far from over.
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