A heavy, almost suffocating tension settled inside the cabin as the words from the adjacent room continued to seep through the partition, each sentence carrying just enough weight to linger, to provoke, to disturb, while Damon’s gaze shifted slightly toward Serena, studying her from the corner of his eyes with quiet precision.

...She doesn’t look surprised.

So she already knows about this information... which means there is at least some truth buried in it.

His thoughts moved swiftly, dissecting the situation piece by piece.

But is she involved in this?

A brief pause.

...No.

Then there is only one person here who is unaware...

And If she wanted to tell Mira, she could have done it anytime.

There was no need to go through something this elaborate.

His gaze moved again.

This time toward Mira.

Mira sat there, her posture stiff, her hands clenched lightly in her lap as she listened, her expression gradually losing its composure with each passing word, her eyes reflecting confusion, disbelief, and something deeper that she could not quite put into words.

So what exactly do they want?

To break my engagement with Mira?

Before he could complete the thought, the voices from the next cabin continued, their tone growing even more animated.

"Ohh... you mean the... Blood Fiend Marquis’s daughter? Isn’t she a second-year in our academy?" the second voice asked, clearly intrigued now.

"That’s right," the first replied immediately, almost pleased with the reaction, "and I heard the reason for breaking off their engagement was also related to his mother’s death."

There was a slight pause.

Then—

"I heard she left him at that time...breaking off the engagement!"

The words lingered just long enough to sting.

"And you know what’s even more interesting..."

Damon’s eyes shifted again, this time deliberately, his gaze sliding toward Mira, who was already looking at him, her eyes shimmering as tears began to gather, her lips trembling slightly as if she wanted to say something but could not find the words.

And in that moment—

Something clicked.

...Isn’t this exactly what I wanted?

To make her sympathize with me...

A faint, almost imperceptible breath left him.

Then... it’s time.

Damon didn’t speak.

He didn’t react outwardly in any obvious way.

But the change was there.

Subtle and controlled.

His shoulders stiffened just slightly, his gaze lowering as if the words had struck deeper than he wished to show, his fingers curling faintly against the table as though restraining something beneath the surface, his expression tightening just enough to suggest restraint rather than indifference, creating the quiet illusion of someone holding themselves together.

Mira saw it and.... that was enough.

Hesitantly, almost as if unsure whether she should, she reached out and gently placed her hand over his, her touch light, trembling, yet filled with a sincerity that needed no words.

She didn’t speak.

She didn’t know what to say.

But she stayed.

The voices from the next cabin continued, oblivious to the effect they were having.

"I heard..." the first voice said, lowering again as if delivering the final piece, "...there are talks of her getting engaged with the third prince."

Damon’s fingers tightened just slightly around Mira’s hand as he turned his palm to hold hers more firmly, his breathing growing uneven on the surface, each breath measured yet deliberately roughened, while beneath that carefully crafted exterior, his thoughts remained perfectly clear, cold, and aligned.

...Ahh... so this is what it is about.

Everything they are saying... it isn’t meant to attack my relationship with Mira...

It’s aimed at Damon’s mind.

His eyes lowered faintly, shadows gathering just enough to sell the illusion of someone being pulled inward.

After the placement exam... anyone with even a bit of background knowledge would assume my resonance is unstable... that it can make me lose control...

The pieces fell into place one after another.

So whoever is behind this... they want me to lose control here... in public... in a crowded place like this...

One outburst... one mistake... and it turns into a massacre.

A faint, almost imperceptible curve touched his lips.

That would be more than enough to get me expelled... and even cast out from the Valecrest house entirely.

His grip on Mira’s hand tightened just a fraction more.

But...

His gaze sharpened.

They don’t know one thing.

I am just a third person... listening to someone else’s story... just like them.

After all, I am not Damon.....I am Alexander.

The clarity in his mind settled into something almost calm.

Still... whoever set this up...

A quiet acknowledgment formed.

...Well played.

A brief pause.

Then—

Now... it’s my turn.

Without warning, Damon pulled his hand away from Mira’s, the sudden movement breaking the fragile stillness between them as he stood up from his seat, the chair scraping faintly against the floor.

Mira flinched immediately, her hand lingering in the air for a second before dropping, her voice trembling as she looked up at him.

"Y-young d-duke...!"

Damon turned slightly, his expression shifting into a faint, melancholic smile that seemed to carry weight, his eyes softening just enough to appear restrained.

"Don’t worry, Miss Mira," he said quietly, his tone controlled, "I just want to....stay alone for a moment."

Mira, already shaken, nodded almost instinctively, her trust overriding her doubt as she clutched her hands together.

Serena’s voice came from behind, calm yet sharp.

"You know they want you to do exactly that."

Damon glanced at her over his shoulder, that same faint smile still resting on his lips.

"And what do you think," he asked, his voice steady, "I am going to do?"

Damon stepped out of the cabin without another word, the faint chime of the door marking his exit as his expression remained calm, almost composed, while the quiet intensity in his eyes suggested something entirely different, something deliberate.

As he moved through the softly lit corridor, a worker passed by carrying a tray filled with chopped vegetables, a curved sickle resting carelessly among them, its edge catching the warm light for just a brief moment.

Damon’s hand moved effortlessly as he picked up the sickle.

The worker barely had time to register the motion before Damon had already turned away, his steps unhurried as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, the tool now resting naturally in his grip.

Without hesitation, he reached the adjacent cabin.

And entered.

The two young men inside flinched visibly the moment they saw him, their earlier composure collapsing as they scrambled to react, their voices stammering as they tried to piece together an act on the spot.

"D-Damon...!"

"Y-you...?"

Their expressions attempted surprise.

Confusion.

Ignorance.

Damon smiled calmly.

"I am impressed by your acting skills," he said, his tone light, almost conversational, "but I will have to trouble you with continuing it for some time."

One of them swallowed hard, trying to regain control.

"What do you—"

"Khhrsh!"

He never finished.

In a single, fluid motion, Damon brought the sickle down.

A sharp, wet sound followed.

The blade struck across the young man’s fingers, slicing deep enough to draw an immediate spray of blood as pain exploded through him, his body jerking violently as his mouth opened to scream—

"Ah—!"

But the sound never came out.

Damon’s hand was already there.

Clamped firmly over his mouth.

Silencing him.

The second young man froze completely, his eyes widening in pure shock as he stared at the scene unfolding in front of him, his body trembling uncontrollably as Damon slowly turned his head toward him.

Their eyes met.

Damon raised a finger to his lips.

A quiet gesture.

Yet unmistakably threatening.

Then he leaned slightly closer, his voice dropping into a low, almost intimate tone.

"If you dare utter a single scream..."

He didn’t need to finish the sentence as he pressed the sickle down on to the fingers, as the young man’s body trembled..

The meaning was clear.

Both of them trembled, their breaths uneven, their eyes darting between each other as tears began to well up in the injured one’s eyes, pain and fear mixing into something raw and uncontrollable.

And yet—

Damon smiled softly.

As if nothing about the situation was out of place.

"Let’s have a talk," he said gently, his voice smooth, controlled, "like civilized men... shall we?"