The voice filled with rage spread through the Hargrave family compound like a shock-wave. It wasn't just loud—it was volcanic.
The guards straightened their backs, stiff as spears. The maid, who was previously wiping a spotless table for the fifth time, started pretending to scrub the same nonexistent spot with manic intensity. The butler? Gone.
He vanished like a ghost retreating from holy ground. Ethan's siblings locked themselves in their rooms, doors shut, latches bolted. Some even pushed drawers and chairs against their doors like it was the end of the world.
The whole manor fell silent, the kind of silence that leaves your ears ringing. It was like the silence after a grenade goes off—where the world turns muffled and all you can hear is the thump of your own heart struggling to keep up with the panic.
Ethan trembled. He didn't just shake—his bones quivered. He quickly slipped into the narrow crawl space behind the wooden screen divider in the hall. He couldn't afford to be found. Not now. Not like this. Not when the very walls of the manor seemed to echo with the fury of Amelia.
'I didn't even plan this,' Ethan thought, gritting his teeth. He clutched his torn sleeves like it would help. 'Jumping out of the window wasn't supposed to turn into this. I didn't expect her to catch me, let alone save me…'
He squeezed his eyes shut, hiding his face against the wooden panel behind him. 'Everything is not working as expected… I swear, I've been cursed.'
[QUEST ALERT: SURVIVE AMELIA'S ANGER]
A loud mechanical sound followed. His invisible interface blinked. A new quest appeared in red text. He nearly choked.
"Bullshit," he muttered under his breath. "You didn't give me any beginner's quest so I can get stats and grow stronger, or one that can allow me to avoid dangers… You only give quests when I'm already in danger. Are you trying to kill me?"
Suddenly—BOOM—a loud explosion rattled the manor, causing dust to fall from the chandelier above his hiding spot. His heart froze.
"I'm in danger," he whispered through clenched teeth, barely holding back the scream that threatened to rip from his throat.
Despite all that, his face remained strangely cold, almost indifferent, like the practiced mask of someone who's seen too much too fast. Only the faint flicker of caution and worry in his eyes betrayed his true emotions. Inside, his mind raced.
'Where did it all go wrong? It hasn't even been two weeks since I arrived in this world, and I've already crossed paths with two members of the main harem. That's supposed to be late-game stuff.'
Somewhere else in the manor, in the upper chamber draped with velvet curtains, Charlotte watched everything unfold from the shadows. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, a subtle frown creasing her otherwise flawless features. She flicked her finger almost lazily, but the motion had purpose. A flower vase, previously balanced on a windowsill near Ethan's hiding spot, tipped over and shattered with a crash loud enough to alert the dead.
The crash echoed through the manor like a gunshot.
Amelia's head snapped toward the source. Her red eyes narrowed with seething focus as she stormed in that direction, heels clacking against the wooden floor like the ticking of a countdown timer.
Ethan heard the crash. He didn't even have to look.
'Damn it! My position's been blown.'
He sprang from his hiding place and dashed down the hallway. His eyes scanned every corner like a cornered animal looking for escape. The only option was another window. Again.
'I have to get out of here… No matter what.'
Amelia appeared behind him the moment he leaped.
She narrowed her eyes. "You think the same trick will work again?" she muttered, then raised a hand. A fireball formed in her palm—twisting, pulsing with heat and power. She hurled it downward, aiming not for Ethan, but for the room below.
Ethan landed at the edge of the window, and the moment his foot touched the wooden frame, the temperature spiked. The air shimmered. His face went pale.
'Oh no…'
But panic didn't control him anymore. This wasn't the first life-or-death moment he'd had here. Instead, he calmed himself and dove inside, rolling into the room just as the fireball struck. The room belonged to his older brother—Harold, the second heir of the Hargrave family.
Harold didn't notice Ethan. He sat at his desk, headphones over his ears, completely immersed in a strange device—a magical music orb.
Ethan ran past him, heading straight for the bed, but didn't climb on it. He crouched beside it, hoping the mattress would shield him from the blast if she followed.
Amelia did more than follow. She used Fireball Swap.
The fireball above turned into a shape—her shape. A searing light flashed as Amelia appeared at the window, hovering mid-air for a breathless second before landing gracefully. Her red hair whipped behind her like a cape of flame. Her eyes found Ethan. She didn't hesitate. She hurled another fireball—this time, directly at the bed.
BOOM!
The explosion tore through the room.
But the scream that followed wasn't Ethan's.
It was Harold.
He was on fire. His hair, his robes, his entire body engulfed in magical flame. The bed was gone. Reduced to ash.
Amelia froze.
She hadn't meant to hit him. Not him. Anyone but him. She panicked. The color drained from her face as she realized the weight of her actions. Killing Ethan? They might've pardoned that. But harming Harold—second heir of House Hargrave—was a different story. It was unforgivable.
She snapped her fingers and summoned a large ball of water, dousing the flames.
When the smoke cleared, Ethan was gone.
Only Amelia and the unconscious, scorched Harold remained in the room.
Meanwhile, Ethan coughed as he staggered down the hallway. His clothes were in tatters. Burn marks splotched his skin. One half of his face looked like wax melting off a candle. His breath hitched with every step. Pain burned through him like acid.
"Charlotte…" he croaked.
She appeared beside him immediately, her usual calm expression twitching at the sight of him.
Her heart fluttered—but not with pity. No. With joy.
'Finally, he looks like death,' she thought.
She helped support him, but inside, she was giddy. His condition was terrible. That made her happy.
'If I don't escape… I'll die for real,' Ethan thought. 'And here I thought being in the Hargrave family meant no one would dare kill me. What a joke.'
Healers rushed past them, robes fluttering like angels in a storm. All of them were heading to Harold's room. None of them looked at Ethan. None of them noticed him. Even though his injuries were worse. Even though he was burned deeper.
Tears shimmered in Ethan's eyes, but he blinked them away. He wasn't weak. Not anymore. He wouldn't beg.
He glanced at Charlotte. "Give me a healing potion," he rasped. "The better it is, the fewer days you'll serve as my maid."
Charlotte looked at him with her usual icy gaze. Then her expression softened into something regretful. "I have no healing potion on me."
Ethan's smile was weak, but his eyes were sharp.
"Liar."
He formed a hand seal—fast and practiced. Then he leaned forward, pressing his head against her chest.
Charlotte's eyes widened.
"No—!"
He inhaled deeply.
Her skin shimmered. Her youthful glow dimmed. Wrinkles began to appear. She gasped as the life drained from her body. Twenty years of vitality, gone in seconds.
"Mas—Master!"
Before she could finish, he pulled away.
His body began to heal. Muscle knit. Skin returned. But a jagged scar remained across half his face—a twisted reminder of what just happened.
When the game was developed, hand seals were a hidden feature. Players only discovered it after modders uncovered unused code. The developers scrapped it because the original novel's author thought it was too broken. But now? It was Ethan's salvation.
Charlotte stumbled back. She looked twenty years older. Her smooth skin was dry, her face pale with shock.
If Ethan took more, the mana contract would kill him. He knew the limit. He stopped before that.
He didn't even know if Amelia would come after him again.
The manor was chaos. Healers were running up and down. Shouts filled the halls. Magic flickered in the air like sparks before a fire.
Ethan shook his head and turned toward the manor's exit. He wanted to leave. He needed to disappear. To breathe.
But just as he neared the grand staircase, he saw him.
A man who looked exactly like his older brother.
Except older.
Sterner.
More dangerous.
His father.