Leo strode purposefully toward the room, his movements deliberate and calculated, resembling a guard patrolling his assigned area. He had already memorized the timing of the other guard's patrol and at this moment, their paths were synchronized so that they faced opposite directions. He advanced toward the last door in the corridor but halted abruptly when he heard a faint noise from within, just a few meters away. His mind snapped into overdrive.
The other guard would be turning around soon. If he was spotted lingering near the end of the corridor, it would undoubtedly arouse suspicion. Entering Ray's office wasn't an option either—someone was clearly inside. Forced to make a split-second decision, Leo veered into the first door on his left and shut it behind him as quietly as he could.
The room was dimly lit and spacious, exuding an air of elegance and wealth. At its center stood a grand, king-sized bed with intricately carved wooden posts and a canopy draped in sheer, silken fabric. The bed was adorned with plush pillows and embroidered linens in shades of soft gold and ivory, showcasing the refined taste of its occupant. A vanity table stood to one side, its polished surface cluttered with ornate perfume bottles, gilded brushes, and an assortment of delicate jewelry. Along the walls, tall wardrobes with gilded accents loomed, their doors slightly ajar to reveal glimpses of luxurious dresses in vibrant fabrics.
A full-length mirror in an ornate frame leaned against one corner, its surface spotless and reflecting the opulence of the room. The faint aroma of lavender and rose lingered in the air, likely from the assortment of perfumes and fresh flowers arranged in a crystal vase atop a side table. The soft glow from a wrought-iron chandelier overhead cast intricate shadows on the walls, adding to the room's regal charm.
Leo moved swiftly to a corner within the room, where he found a less conspicuous area to change. He removed the guard's armor and hurriedly switched back into his waiter's uniform, working with practiced efficiency. Just as he was about to leave, the sound of laughter and lively chatter drifted in from outside the door, stopping him in his tracks.
He froze, listening intently. The voices were distinct—young, carefree, and unmistakably feminine.
"Oh, come on, he'll never ask me," one girl said, her tone laced with frustration.
"You just turned eighteen," another teased. "It could happen."
Leo's ears perked up. From their conversation, he deduced that this group included Lizzie and that they were gossiping about a blond-haired boy.
"Really?" Lizzie said, her voice accompanied by a soft giggle.
Suddenly, the door creaked open. Leo instinctively stepped further into the shadows of the room, holding his breath. A girl stepped inside, glancing over her shoulder.
"I'll be back in the main hall in a few minutes," she called to the others before closing the door behind her.
"Okay," one of the girls replied from outside.
To Leo's dismay, it wasn't just any girl—it was Lizzie. She leaned her back against the door, sighing audibly, oblivious to his presence in the darkened corner.
'How unlucky can I be?' Leo thought, his mind racing. 'Should I knock her out and run?'
He clenched his fists, forcing himself to consider every possibility. Then, Ryan's advice echoed in his mind: Think like an illusionist.
Just as he steadied his nerves, Lizzie muttered under her breath, her tone tinged with bitterness. "Do those bitches only talk to mock me? Just because they've got a little more wealth?"
She paused and squinted into the shadows. Her gaze landed on him, her eyes widening in alarm. "Who's there?"
…
Lizzie leaned against the door, her body rigid with unease as she caught sight of a shadow shifting in the corner of her room. Her heart began to pound wildly, her hand instinctively rising toward her chest.
"Who's there?" she demanded, her tone wavering.
From the darkness, a faint glow appeared, followed by a figure stepping into the light. Her breath hitched as the blond-haired man emerged. It was Falko Molitor—the very man she had envisioned countless times in her dreams. In those fantasies, he was a gallant knight who would ride up on a white horse and sweep her off her feet. Now, he was standing before her, impossibly real, his smile as radiant as the morning sun.
"Hello, Ms. Mills," Falko greeted, his voice smooth and inviting.
To Lizzie, his smile was like a bud blooming into a vibrant flower. She struggled to compose herself, her cheeks flushing. "Mr. Molitor, what are you doing in my room?"
Falko closed the distance between them with graceful strides, stopping just short of her personal space. He tilted his head slightly, his smile turning playful.
"Don't you enjoy surprises?" he asked.
"Mr. Molitor, I…" Lizzie faltered, her voice barely above a whisper.
Before she could gather her thoughts, Falko gently took her hand in his. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through her, leaving her heart racing for an entirely different reason now.
"Please," he said softly, his blue eyes locking onto hers, "there's no need to be so formal with me."
Lizzie felt her breath catch again, her cheeks burning as she stammered, "Then... Falko."
His name felt foreign on her tongue, yet exhilarating. Falko's smile widened, a charming blend of confidence and mischief.
"Would you allow me to give you a gift for your eighteenth birthday?" he asked, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
Lizzie hesitated, her mind reeling. "But my father—"
Falko stepped closer, pulling her gently toward him until their faces were mere inches apart. His voice dropped even lower, sending shivers down her spine. "He doesn't need to know," he whispered, his breath brushing against her ear.
Lizzie's entire face flushed crimson, her thoughts tangling in confusion and excitement.
"Actually," Falko murmured, his lips curving into a devilish grin, "we can do it in his office. That would make it even more thrilling, wouldn't it?"
His whispered words and his closeness sent a surge of heat through her body, clouding her judgment. Her heart raced, and she felt her resistance melt away. This moment felt like a dream—one she had longed for and never dared to hope might come true.
Without another word, with her mind blank and her heart soaring, Lizzie took his hand. She guided him toward the door, leading him down the corridor to her father's office.
…
Lizzie had Leo firmly in tow, dragging him along with an almost frantic determination. Moments earlier, he had cast Illusion just before stepping out from the corner, transforming his appearance into that of the blond-haired boy he now knew to be Falko Molitor.
Illusion, when combined with word Whole, was a powerful tool capable of manipulating a target's five senses and even their innermost feelings. It was similar to the way he used Fear—both could twist a person's perception of reality. The key difference was speed. While Fear worked instantly and was ideal for fast-paced combat, Illusion took longer and required more subtlety. It was most effective on weak minds, and fortunately for Leo, Lizzie's current emotional state made her an easy target.
He had used Illusion to heighten Lizzie's desire, clouding her thoughts and suppressing everything else—fear, hesitation, even common sense. The only emotion strong enough to still surface was her lingering worry.
They reached the door, and Lizzie hesitated, her hand frozen on the handle. "What if someone sees us?" she whispered, her voice trembling with doubt.
"You're their boss," Leo replied smoothly. "If you tell them to stay quiet, they won't dare say a word."
Lizzie seemed to accept this without question. Her thoughts were muddled, her mind unable to process clearly. With a slow nod, she opened the door and pulled him through.
As they stepped into the corridor, they encountered Lieber accompanied by three men, all emerging from Mills's office. Their conversation halted as their eyes fell on Lizzie and the boy trailing behind her.
Leo briefly wondered why Lieber had returned to the office but chose to ignore it.
Lieber stopped, his expression shifting from shock to quiet disapproval. He gave a brief shake of his head, muttering something under his breath as he resumed walking. Behind him, the three men exchanged amused glances.
Oblivious to the scrutiny, Lizzie tightened her grip on Leo's wrist and led him past them, straight into her fathers now-empty office. Once inside, Leo wasted no time.
He cast another Illusion, this time creating a perfect replica of Falko Molitor in her mind, designed to captivate Lizzie's already-fractured focus. Under the influence of the spell, she became entirely fixated on the illusory figure, indulging in whatever fantasy her mind conjured.
The office exuded an air of authority and refinement. Two towering bookshelves stood on either side of the room, their polished mahogany frames gleaming under the soft light of an ornate chandelier. Each shelf was filled with leather-bound volumes, their spines embossed with gold lettering, hinting at the vast knowledge and wealth of the office's owner. Between the bookshelves, a grand desk took center stage, its surface meticulously organized save for a few scattered parchments and an inkstand with a quill poised for writing.
Behind the desk, a high-backed chair upholstered in dark green velvet added a regal touch, while a large window with heavy burgundy curtains allowed a view of the sprawling estate grounds outside. The walls were adorned with intricately framed maps and certificates, proudly displaying titles and accomplishments. A globe rested on a side table near the corner, next to a decanter of fine brandy and crystal glasses, suggesting this was a space for both work and quiet contemplation. After looking around for a bit, Leo began his real work, rifling through the office for Ryan's contract.
He knew time wasn't on his side. Lieber had already spotted him, and the absence of the guard in the corridor made it a sure thing—his window of opportunity was closing fast.
…
As Lieber walked with his group, a guard approached him hurriedly from the front, his face tight with concern.
"Sir, the other guard who was stationed here has disappeared," the guard reported, his tone urgent.
"What?" Lieber stopped in his tracks, his brows knitting into a deep frown. The news unsettled him and he instinctively turned to glance at the three men trailing behind him—trusted C rankers who rarely failed to meet his expectations.
"Find him," Lieber commanded, his voice sharp. The three nodded and were just about to set off when a thought struck him like a bolt of lightning. His mind replayed the strange scene from moments earlier: Lizzie walking with a young man he didn't recognize. A waiter? No, something about that boy didn't sit right with him.
"Wait!" Lieber called out, stopping the men in their tracks. "You three, come with me."
This wasn't just a missing guard anymore. Lieber's instincts told him something far more troubling was unfolding.
…
Leo rifled through the desk drawers, his hands moving quickly but methodically. The contract had to be here somewhere. Suddenly, shouting erupted from the hallway outside, followed by the unmistakable sound of hurried footsteps. His pulse quickened. They were coming.
Raising his hand, he aimed it toward the door, his mana surging as he prepared for the inevitable. The door swung open with a bang and Lieber entered, flanked by the same three C rankers Leo had seen earlier. Their eyes swept the room, locking onto him.
Leo didn't hesitate. Pouring mana into his ring, he activated Fear. In an instant, all four men crumpled to the ground, trembling uncontrollably as the spell took hold.
Lieber was at the front, and Leo knew he couldn't afford to waste time. With a flick of his wrist, he cast Fireball, launching three searing projectiles at the C rankers. Each hit its mark, leaving the men sprawled on the floor.
Leo turned his attention to the massive desk dominating the room. At first, he'd thought Ryan's lessons were useless, but now he understood their value. His refined control over mana, bolstered by the mana gem Ryan had given him and the clarity provided by the calm gem and the Ring of Clarity, allowed him to pour more energy into the Telekinesis spell than ever before.
The desk trembled, then lifted off the ground. Leo heaved it through the air with a surge of effort, sending it hurtling toward the door. The heavy wooden barrier slammed against the entryway, blocking anyone else from entering, leaving Leo and Lieber alone in the room.
Leo didn't waste a second. He lunged at Lieber, who was still shaking from the lingering effects of Fear and grabbed him by the neck.
"Where's Ryan's contract?" Leo demanded, his voice cold and unwavering.
Lieber's lips moved, but no words came out. His terrified gaze darted to a bookshelf on the far side of the room. Leo followed the direction of his eyes and turned. But before being able to do anything, a sword struck his magical shield, the force of the blow shattering the barrier instantly. The impact sent Leo flying across the room, his body crashing into the wall near the bookshelf. Pain shot through him as he crumpled to the floor, his limbs sluggish and unresponsive.
Standing before him was a B rank warrior, his imposing figure radiating raw power.
Clemens sneered, his sword gleaming in the dim light. "What do we have here? A little worm?" he taunted.
Behind him, the three C rankers reentered the room, the effects of Fear now fully worn off. They were behind Clemens, their expressions a mixture of anger and amusement.
"Let's see what you have to say for yourself, kid," Clemens growled, reaching out to grab Leo.
Before his hand could make contact, it slammed into a crackling wall of lightning. Clemens jerked back with a snarl, shaking his arm as arcs of electricity danced around it.
Leo grinned weakly, his left hand clutching the Arc Confinement scroll. The defensive barrier gave him precious seconds to act. With his free hand, he aimed at the bookshelf Lieber had glanced at earlier.
Clemens's eyes narrowed. Sensing the danger, he released an immense surge of energy and struck the lightning shield with his sword. The shield shattered under the blow, but not before Leo managed to cast another spell.
A Fireball erupted from his hand and slamming into the bookshelf. The resulting explosion sent wood and paper flying in all directions, reducing the shelves to a pile of smoldering rubble.
Clemens's fury reached its peak. His sword rose high, its blade aimed for Leo's head. But just as it began its deadly arc, Clemens froze in place, his body rigid as if bound by invisible chains.
Leo's smirk returned, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.