Kana hadn’t slept much.

  She was finally a step closer.

  An orphanage. A place for them. A real place—not just a warm meal or a blanket on a cold night, but something permanent. Something that meant they mattered.

  It felt… surreal.

  She sat with that thought as if it were a fragile flame in her palm, one gust of reality away from dying. Finally, she could do something that meant something. Not for coin. Not for ranks or reputation. But for the kids in the slums. The ones no one else seemed to care about.

  Why? Why did no one care?

  The question gnawed at her like a loose shard of glass in her chest. Boris and Suri didn’t talk much about them. They were more concerned with her, and for that, she was grateful. But still... didn’t they see what she saw? Didn’t they feel it?

  Was the world really so wrong?

  Or was it her?

  Maybe it was the skill. [High Awareness]—was that it? Was it making her see them too clearly? Was it showing her things no one else bothered to look at? Or… was it something deeper? Something broken inside her that refused to let go of the memory of what it was like to be one of them?

  She clenched her jaw, shaking the thought.

  It didn’t matter. She cared. Because it was right.

  And that was enough.

  She left before dawn, slipping out quietly so as not to wake Suri—still curled under the blanket, breathing softly. There was a plan, after all. A simple one: Suri and Boris must be together until nightfall. The Shadow Man might go back when it's dark.

  She didn’t wear full armor. Just what she needed. A few pieces of metal tucked beneath dark sleeves—forearm guards, shin plating, a hip brace with hidden daggers.

  The walk to the Stark estate was uneventful. A familiar guard opened the gate without question. The butler was already waiting, he guided her through a narrow hall lined with aged portraits and polished stone. He stopped in front of a small study—dim, heavy with the scent of old parchment.

  Rare tomes and books lined the shelves, some old enough to crack if touched. Kana’s fingers itched, but she sat still.

  Moments passed before the door creaked open and Duke Stark entered. He moved with confidence, closing the door behind him before settling across from her with a calm smile.

  “I invited you here,” he began, folding his hands on the desk, “because I found out.”

  Kana blinked. “Found out what?”

  His eyes gleamed. “What you did. The nobles are affected… their coin is gone.”

  Her heart stilled.

  So he knew.

  Her mind raced. How? It didn’t matter. The consequences were too steep to ponder. If word got out—if he told anyone—she, Suri, and Boris would be expelled. Worse, branded as criminals. Jailed. Hunted. Maybe even executed, depending on whose coin had gone missing.

  No trial. No mercy. Not for people like them.

  [High Awareness] flared like lightning in her veins. Three guards. Hidden. Two behind the walls. One at the door. She felt the vibration of their breath, the miniscule shift of metal brushing fabric.

  But it didn’t matter.

  She could take them.

  Her hand slid beneath her cloak. The world slowed. Her breath fell in rhythm with her heartbeat. She moved.

  By the time the Duke inhaled, she was behind him. One hand at his shoulder, the other pressing a dagger’s edge against the soft skin beneath his jaw.

  Three guards burst in. Steel drawn. Their blades hovered just inches from Kana’s form.

  But they were too late.

  Her dagger remained pressed against Duke Stark’s neck. Steady. Precise. Unshaken.

  The room froze.

  Duke Stark’s face turned pale, the blood draining from his skin. His guards hesitated, unsure whether to strike or plead. They could feel it too now—the killing intent rolling off Kana in thick waves like a raging storm. They’d like to say something, but their voice wouldn’t make a sound.

  And Kana? She was unaware of it. The bloodlust was natural. Familiar. A reflex burned into her soul.

  “Your position of power,” she said quietly, almost a whisper, “is nothing but a false pretense.”

  Her blade pressed deeper—enough to draw a bead of red.

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  “I can end your life. Anytime I want. Your guards too.”

  “I know,” Duke Stark replied, voice shaking. He swallowed, trying to stay composed. “I’m not your enemy.”

  “It’s just a matter of time,” the Duke continued, his voice steadier now. “They’ll find you. Pit never fails.”

  Kana narrowed her eyes but didn’t speak. Pit?

  “I heard from my son—you’re planning to buy land. A large one. For an orphanage, right?”

  She didn’t reply, but her blade loosened slightly. The Duke was right.

  How could a villager girl afford that?

  She realized how stupid she was. She cursed herself. She hadn’t thought it through. Land deals left records. The kind that could be tracked, even by lesser nobles. She was leaving a trail—digging her own grave.

  “I’m offering a proposal,” Duke Stark said, carefully adjusting his collar where her dagger had touched. “I’ll help fund it—on paper. You’ll still run, fund it, adopt whoever you want, manage it however you please.”

  “This,” she whispered, voice low, “Is why I hate men like you.”

  She’d seen it before—power twisted by wealth, high ranking officials who used people like her for their advantage. To get something more.

  Kana blinked.

  Confused.

  The words had come out on their own—sharp, instinctive. But now, standing in the quiet of the Duke’s study, her mind scrambled to place the faces, the names.

  Who were they?

  She couldn’t recall anyone specific. No clear memory of being used or betrayed. Just fragments. Feelings. Shadows in her mind. The weight of moments she’d buried, perhaps too deeply to reach now. And yet… the words felt true. A wounded self that still bled, even if she couldn’t remember why.

  Why did I say that?

  But the dagger had already been drawn. The threat already made.

  Duke Stark raised a trembling hand. A silent signal.

  The guards hesitated—but obeyed. One by one, they lowered their weapons and retreated, leaving the room with reluctant steps and fearful glances.

  She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down.

  Kana’s gaze didn’t shift. “What’s the catch?”

  “Just one,” he said.

  She slowly pulled the blade away, slipping it back into her sleeve.

  “I already told you my skill,” the Duke continued. “[Sharp Instinct].My class is [Tradesman]—not a fighting class, but we’re good at seeing people's potential.”

  He leaned forward slightly, recovering his poise. “And I see it in you. You’ve grown stronger. Very fast. Whatever you’re doing… it’s working. I won’t ask what it is. ”

  He let that hang for a moment.

  “But I want my son involved. Let Leo in.”

  Kana’s voice dropped. “He might die.”

  “That’s my second condition,” Duke Stark said firmly. “Whatever you’re doing, you protect him. I don’t care how. Just make sure he comes back alive. And show me the result.”

  Kana stared at him.

  A long pause stretched between them.

  At last, she nodded once. “I’ll consider it.”

  Only one thing bothered Kana.

  Rin.

  Specifically, Rin’s [Judgement] skill—and what it had said about the Duke.

  He’s not a good man, Rin's voice echoed in her mind.

  It shouldn’t have mattered whether the duke understood how the leveling works. Whether they grasped the hidden mechanics of the system.

  Because she was the key.

  She was the hidden ingredient—the secret variable that made their progress absurdly fast. She didn’t know why she had a title that multiplied experience. Not now and maybe she wouldn’t know it in her whole life.

  ….

  Duke Stark exhaled slowly, the breath shaking as it left his lips.

  Kana had long since gone, yet his hand still trembled. He stared at it—betraying him with its weakness. He was a duke. A man of influence. Of connections. Of control.

  And none of that had mattered.

  Not in front of her. In front of a real power.

  His guards, veterans of skirmishes and protectors of his house for years, had frozen like newbies. Against that kind of presence… that kind of power... titles and guards meant nothing.

  She could have killed him.

  No—they all knew she could have.

  “We’re sorry,” one of the guards said softly, stepping forward, guilt lining his voice.

  Duke Stark didn’t look at him. “Do you think the three of you could’ve stopped her?”

  They hesitated. Even the silence seemed to fear the answer.

  “I doubt it,” said the leader at last. “If I had to guess… she’s mid to high Silver Adventurer Class. At least.”

  The duke let out another breath, heavier this time. He had underestimated her—again.

  No more games. No more schemes.

  She was no longer just some ambitious child to keep an eye on. And he would treat her accordingly.

  He straightened, tone turning cold. “If you want to see another day, you’ll forget everything that happened in this room.”

  The three exchanged a glance. No hesitation this time.

  They nodded in unison.