I Died and Became a Noble's Heir-Chapter 306: The Deal

Alaric stared at his son for a long moment, his shadows writhing as his emotions flared.

Then he stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the wood.

Without a word, he turned and strode from the dining hall, his dark magic trailing behind him.

The family exchanged confused glances. Lady Genevieve’s hand went to her chest, her composure finally cracking completely.

Octavia half-rose from her seat as if to follow, but Jack raised a hand.

"Wait," he said quietly.

They waited.

Minutes passed in tense silence. Annabelle fidgeted in her chair. Celeste drummed her fingers against the table once before stopping at Octavia’s sharp look.

Then Alaric returned.

Blood smeared across his forehead in a rough horizontal line. His palm showed a fresh cut, dirt still clinging to the edges where he’d mixed earth with his own blood.

He sat without explanation, his golden eyes meeting Jack’s directly. "Well?"

The rest of the family stared at their patriarch. At the blood marking his skin. There was a deadly seriousness in his posture.

Lady Genevieve was the first to move. She reached for the knife Jack had placed on the table, her hand steady despite the tremor.

The blade pressed against her palm, parting skin with surgical precision. She didn’t flinch.

She crossed to the planter by the window, pressed her bleeding palm into the soil, then returned to her seat. Her fingers traced the mixture across her forehead with grace that made even a demon ritual look dignified.

Octavia followed. Her cut was deeper than necessary, blood welling quickly. Her expression remained perfectly composed as she completed the ritual, but Jack saw the calculation in her eyes.

She was committing this moment to memory, analyzing what it meant that their family was performing demon rites at the breakfast table.

Celeste tried to maintain her usual lightness, but her hand shook as she made the cut. The dirt mixed with blood painted a crooked line across her forehead. She sat down heavily, staring at her palm as if surprised by what she’d done.

Annabelle looked at Jack with wide eyes. "Do I have to?"

"Yes," Jack said gently. "If you want to know the truth."

She took the knife with both hands, wincing as the blade bit into her small palm. Octavia helped her with the dirt, steadying her sister’s trembling hands as they worked together to complete the ritual.

When all of them bore the mark, Jack nodded slowly. "Good. Now we can begin. But first..." he raised his voice slightly, "...all servants are to leave this room. Immediately."

The servants who’d been standing along the walls, ready to refill drinks or clear plates, hesitated for only a moment.

Then they filed out quickly, the doors closing behind them with soft finality.

Alaric’s patience snapped. "Are you going to tell us, or are we going to sit here staring at each other all morning?"

Jack didn’t answer directly. Instead, he turned his head slightly. "S."

For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then S walked forward from behind Jack’s chair, appearing as if he’d been standing there the entire meal.

He’d always been present, just unnoticed until now.

He was eating a tangerine, peeling it with fingers that moved with inhuman precision. Each section was separated perfectly, and the white pith was eradicated before he popped a segment into his mouth.

Alaric’s entire body went rigid.

His shadows exploded outward, filling the dining hall with darkness that swallowed light.

The temperature dropped ten degrees instantly. His golden eyes blazed with power as his dark magic surged, responding to the threat he recognized instinctively.

"What," Alaric’s voice came out barely above a whisper, more dangerous for its quietness, "is that doing in my home?"

S continued eating his tangerine, completely unbothered by the wall of dark power pressing against him.

His red eyes tracked Alaric with mild interest, the way someone might observe an aggressive dog straining at its leash.

"Father, stop." Jack’s voice cut through the tension. "He’s not a threat. This is our family’s guardian."

"Guardian?" Alaric’s shadows didn’t recede. "That is a demon. A powerful one. I can feel it from here."

"Yes," Jack agreed calmly. "He is. His name is S., and he’s sworn to protect this family. He won’t harm anyone here unless I command it."

Lady Genevieve had pressed herself back in her chair, her hand over her mouth.

Octavia’s strategic mind was clearly racing, trying to reconcile her brother casually introducing a demon as if it were a new household servant. Celeste looked torn between fascination and terror.

Annabelle had grabbed Octavia’s arm, pressing close to her older sister.

"S," Jack said, not looking away from his father. "Please ensure no one can hear what we’re about to discuss."

S swallowed his tangerine segment and smiled. "As you wish, young master."

He clapped his hands once.

The sound echoed through the dining hall like thunder.

Then a shimmer spread outward from where S stood, flowing across walls and ceiling and floor in waves of translucent energy. The shimmer settled, became invisible, but Jack could feel it. A barrier that sealed the room completely!

"All set," S said, returning to his tangerine. "We exist in complete isolation until I release the barrier."

Alaric’s shadows finally began to recede, though wariness remained etched across his features. "How long has this... creature been in our home?"

"A few days," Jack said. "He arrived with me when I returned from the dungeon."

"And you trust it?"

"I bound him," Jack replied. "Soul binding. He physically cannot harm this family or betray our interests. His will is subordinate to mine."

That made Alaric pause. Soul binding was ancient magic, dangerous magic, the kind that could backfire catastrophically if performed incorrectly. "How did you learn soul binding?"

"The same place I learned the demon peace ritual," Jack said. "Tartarus Spire."

The name hung in the air like a curse.

"Where I spent five hundred days fighting, surviving, learning things that shouldn’t be taught to mortals."

He leaned forward, his hands folded on the table. "I was granted access by the owner of the dungeon. The God of Death himself opened the way for me. The tower is filled with creatures of all kinds; Demons primarily, but others as well. Each floor is a test. Each test is designed to kill you."

Octavia found her voice. "Why? Why would a god grant you access to a death tower?"

"Because he owed my Patron God a favor," Jack commented. "Because I needed power fast, and he offered a way to get it. Time dilation meant I could train for years in the span of weeks. So I took the offer."

Alaric’s jaw clenched. "You made a deal with a god of death."

"I made a deal with someone who could help me protect this family," Jack corrected. "And it worked. The power I gained in Tartarus Spire is why fifteen thousand mercenaries are dead, and none of our soldiers fell."

He paused, his golden eyes finding his father’s directly.

"Father, I don’t understand why demons make you so angry."

The question landed like a warhammer crushing someone’s chest.

Alaric’s shadows rippled violently. His hands gripped the table’s edge hard enough that the wood creaked. For a long moment, he said nothing, his breathing harsh in the silence.

"You want to know why I hate demons?" Alaric’s golden eyes blazed. "Fine. I’ll tell you."