Morning arrived without mercy.
Ellios sat at the long breakfast table, posture straight, expression composed, as if the events of the previous night had never happened. Sunlight filtered through tall windows, casting pale gold lines across porcelain dishes and untouched flowers. The food before him was immaculate—nutritionally balanced, perfectly timed, prepared by chefs who claim to know his habits better than he knew himself.
He ate anyway.
Across from him, Judy quietly reviewed a tablet, though her eyes flicked up every few seconds.
Gabriel stood near the doorway, arms behind his back, gaze alert.
Neither spoke. They all knew where Ellios was going.
When Ellios set his cutlery down, the sound echoed louder than it should have.
"Let's go," he said.
The convoy departed moments later. Ellios's car led, followed by a single vehicle of bodyguards—Marcus Blade's preference. Not too many. Just enough to remind him who truly held power.
The drive grew quieter the closer they came.
The Blade family estate rose from the land like a monument to dominance—stone walls, iron gates. When the gates opened, it felt less like an invitation and more like a command.
The mouth of a beast opened ready to devour.
Ellios watched the iron bars part slowly, mechanically, as if savoring the moment.
Once inside, the gates shut behind them with a silent clang.
No turning back.
They parked near the central building, tires crunching softly against gravel. Before Ellios could step out, servants lined up in precise rows, heads bowed, hands folded. At the front stood the Old Master's assistant Alfred,a thin man with silver hair and a permanent, polished smile.
"Master Ellios," the assistant greeted smoothly. "The Old Master awaits. Please follow me."
Ellios paused.
"I want to see my sister first."
Alfred blinked—just once—before nodding. "Of course. This way."
Judy and Gabriel moved to follow, but the Alfred raised a hand. "I'm afraid only Master Ellios may proceed."
Ellios turned to them. Judy's lips pressed into a thin line. Gabriel looked like he wanted to argue.
"I'll be fine," Ellios said quietly. "Wait here."
Reluctantly, they obeyed.
The separate building lay farther from the main house, isolated by tall hedges and glass corridors. Inside, it no longer felt like a family estate.
It felt like a hospital.
The air smelled of antiseptic. Machines hummed softly behind closed doors. Doctors in white coats moved quietly, their expressions professional, distant. Ellios's footsteps echoed as he walked deeper inside.
A female doctor approached him, bowing slightly. "Master Ellios. Good to see you." After greetings she got straight to the point. Like she always does. "Your sister's vitals remain stable. Heart rate normal. Oxygen levels consistent."
Ellios nodded. "But…?"
"She still requires the green water," the doctor said carefully. "Without it, her condition will deteriorate within hours."
Ellios's jaw tightened.
"How long?" he asked.
"It is difficult to say," she replied. "The medicine stabilizes her condition, but we still don't understand the disease. All conventional treatments have failed."
Ellios knew that already.
"Thank you," he said.
The doctor stepped aside, allowing him to enter the room.
Alice lay there, small against the large bed, her body dwarfed by machines and tubes. Clear IV lines ran into her veins. A breathing mask covered her mouth and nose. A feeding tube rested against her cheek.
The steady beep of the heart monitor filled the room.
Ellios pulled a chair closer and sat.
"Hey," he said softly. "It's me."
The machine answered for her.
"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner," he continued. "Work has been… busy. You know how it is."
His voice was calm, practiced. He had said these words many times before.
"How have you been with all these machines. Guess you might have been bored."
"I met someone yesterday," Ellios said after a pause, eyes fixed on her still face. "He's… strange. He watches me like he sees right through me. He really shouldn't."
He smiled faintly. "You'd probably tease me about it."
The smile faded.
While watching her sister made him recall the past, remember the orphanage. He don't remember too much of their lives in the orphanage before the fire but still remember that red.
Images surfaced unbidden.
Ellios had been five. Alice nine.
The smell of smoke. The screams. Her hand gripping his wrist so tightly it hurt as she dragged him out through flames and chaos.
After that, nothing had been the same.
They lived on the streets.
Alice shielded him from the cold, wrapping him in her own thin jacket, lying awake at night so he could sleep. For five years, she endured hunger, exhaustion, sickness—everything—for him.
When she fell ill, suddenly and severely, Ellios became the breadwinner.
A child begging. Working. Stealing when he had to.
He remembered the looks people gave them. Disgust. Pity. Indifference.
"I tried," Ellios whispered. "I really tried."
Life on the streets was relentless. Alice grew weaker. One night, she smiled at him softly and told him she was tired.
The next morning, he found her bleeding, having tried to end it quietly so he wouldn't have her as a burden. How can she be a burden.
He had screamed.
That was when Marcus Blade appeared.
An angel, Ellios had thought.
Marcus took them in. Paid for doctors. Saved Alice's life.
But the cost came later.
Alice survived—but fell into a coma.
Doctors failed one after another, until Marcus produced the green water. A viscous, glowing liquid unlike anything Ellios had ever seen. Alice stabilized almost immediately.
She woke sometimes. Spoke rarely. Then slipped back into sleep.
But she needed it every week.
And only Marcus Blade had it.
"One leash," Ellios murmured bitterly. "Just one of many."
He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from Alice's forehead.
"I'm still here," he promised her softly. "No matter what."
The heart monitor beeped steadily.
Ellios sat there longer than he should have, until footsteps outside signaled the end of his reprieve.
The assistant waited when Ellios stepped out, smile unchanged.
"The Old Master will see you now," he said.
Ellios nodded once.
As he walked away from his sister's room, the weight settled back onto his shoulders.
The leash tightened.