As soon as the words left his mouth,
the airflow in the entire room seemed to freeze.
Jack, who had been brushing sea foam off his trench coat, suddenly froze.
He instantly grew alert, his muscles tensing up completely.
The hand that had just removed his hat instinctively reached toward his lower back.
He was incredibly fast.
To an ordinary person, his hand would have been nothing but a blur.
But he was facing Elias.
“Click.”
A crisp, cold mechanical sound echoed sharply in the quiet cabin.
It was the sound of a revolver's hammer being pulled back to the firing position.
The firing pin was locked.
The moment the trigger was pulled, an enchanted spiritual bullet would tear through the air.
Jack's hand, frozen halfway to his waist, stopped dead in its tracks.
He was unable to move a muscle.
Cold sweat dripped from his forehead, mixing with the seawater that had yet to dry.
Elias remained lazily leaned back in the worn armchair in front of the fireplace.
The dancing firelight kept his face hidden in deep shadow.
Only the dark, hollow muzzle of his gun reflected a cold metallic glint.
It was aimed steadily at Jack's head.
Without the slightest tremor.
Perfectly steady.
“Toss the gun over.”
Elias flatly extended his left hand, his voice devoid of any warmth.
Though in his mind, he was grumbling.
What is with young people these days?
Reaching for their lower backs the second something goes wrong.
Do they really think everyone is some kind of wild west quick-draw champion?
Jack swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing with difficulty.
When a gun is pointed at you, you have to bow your head.
He understood this principle well.
He slowly raised his left hand, signaling that he had absolutely no intention of resisting.
With his right hand, he carefully reached behind his waist, using two fingers to pinch the company-issued revolver.
His movements were incredibly slow,
terrified of causing any misunderstanding.
“Clack.”
The revolver was obediently tossed onto the floor, sliding across the wooden planks to Elias's feet.
Elias scooped it up with his left hand, but the muzzle in his right hand didn't budge an inch.
He didn't even bother to look down.
“Any more?”
Elias raised an eyebrow and asked again.
Jack's face twitched.
Looking at Elias's rock-steady wrist, his heart hammered like a drum.
“No more.”
Jack spoke honestly, his eyes exceptionally clear.
A bit too clear, in fact.
“Think carefully before you answer.”
Elias sneered.
He lowered his wrist slightly.
The dark muzzle of the revolver nudged a fraction of an inch closer through the air.
“Alright, alright!”
Jack finally cracked.
He muttered reluctantly, his face a picture of sheer agony over his losses.
He reached into his coat, his movements filled with humiliation.
“Clatter.”
Another dull metallic thud echoed.
An old flintlock pistol with faded silver wire inlaid in the grip was tossed out.
“Y-You have to give that back to me!”
Jack stared at the flintlock, his eyes filled with heartache.
He even began to stammer.
“It's a family heirloom...”
“From now on, I ask, you answer.”
Elias cut off his rambling directly.
His voice was soft, but carried an unquestionable authority.
“Do you understand?”
He had absolutely no desire to listen to excuses.
Jack opened his mouth, but ultimately hung his head in defeat.
He was only a teenager, after all.
In this situation, he lacked the courage to fight to the death.
He had no choice but to comply.
“Who are you?”
Elias leaned back against the sofa, his finger lightly tapping the side of the gun.
“Jack.”
The young man answered honestly.
“Jack Soren.”
Sensing that just "Jack" sounded too much like an extra, he quickly added a last name.
“Why did you come here to be a keeper?”
Elias stared at him coldly.
“As far as I know, while the pay here is decent, it's hardly enough to make a transcendent actively apply, is it?”
Elias pointed out the contradiction directly.
Twelve gold crowns a month was a fortune to an ordinary graduate.
But to a transcendent, it was barely enough to buy supernatural materials.
Only a fool would come.
“What if I only became a transcendent after I got here?”
Jack's eyes darted around, trying to wiggle his way out.
He tried to blame it on some vague, stroke-of-luck encounter.
“Heh.”
Hearing this answer, Elias was nearly amused to the point of laughter.
Do you think you're me?
What on earth is this kid babbling about?
Is his IQ even normal?
“Did you forget how you explained your curse to me?”
Elias jabbed the muzzle in the air, coldly exposing the lie.
“Uh...”
Jack was instantly tongue-tied.
His face flushed with extreme embarrassment.
“Alright.”
The young man sighed, his shoulders slumping completely.
“I actually came here to run for my life.”
“Running for your life?”
Elias clicked his tongue.
Hearing this reason, Elias almost lost his grip on his gun.
He let out a soft, mocking sigh.
“You came to run for your life in the most dangerous, monster-infested place in all of Velen, where you could end up dead and in pieces at any moment?”
How was this escape plan any different from having a death wish?
“At least it's better than Landon.”
Jack couldn't help but mutter back.
His tone carried a hint of fear and disgust toward the capital.
“I wouldn't be so sure.”
Elias shook his head.
He had recently gotten a good taste of Velen's dark underbelly.
“Why are you running?”
Elias got back to the point, cutting straight to the core.
“The Mist Veil Society is hunting me.”
The young man took a deep breath, his expression finally turning sincere.
As he spoke the name, his body instinctively shrank back.
Clearly, that cult had left a profound shadow over him.
“Can I sit down?”
Jack looked at Elias pleadingly.
“Oh?”
Hearing this unexpected yet logical name, Elias raised an eyebrow.
He gestured toward the nearby wooden chair with his gun muzzle.
“Sit.”
“Why is the Mist Veil Society hunting you?”
“Well...”
The moment Jack hesitated,
the revolver muzzle, which had lowered slightly, instantly surged forward again.
The cold metal carried immense threat.
The young man from Landon shuddered. Without any delay, he spilled everything in a frantic rush.
“Because of my family!”
“Which family are you from?”
Elias narrowed his eyes, carefully studying the young man's features.
Though unshaven, his skin was relatively fair, yet he didn't quite look like a young master of a major family.
“Soren?”
“Sorenstein?”
This naturally made him think of the family with a similar surname.
“You know about us?!”
Hearing the name, Jack nearly leaped out of his chair.
He seemed delighted that a mere lighthouse keeper in Velen's western bay actually knew of his prominent family back in Landon.
“The Mist Veil Society is hunting us,”
the young man stated.
Elias hummed noncommittally.
“Then why didn't you just say your surname is Sorenstein?”
He clearly had a prestigious, intimidating surname.
Yet he insisted on splitting it to use 'Soren,' making himself sound like some destitute countryside blacksmith.
“Huh?”
Jack's excitement instantly froze at the question.
He scratched his head awkwardly.
“Because I'm a bastard.”
He explained with self-deprecating humor.
“A bastard of the Sorenstein family can only take the surname Soren.”
“According to the laws of the kingdom and the rules of the family, people like us are not worthy of inheriting the full, honorable name.”
Feudal aristocratic nonsense!
Elias sneered inwardly.
But considering how deeply ingrained this rigid hierarchy was in a society like the Kingdom of Velen, it was completely logical.
No wonder the gun in this kid's hand was a family heirloom.
Elias looked at the illegitimate youth before him, his gaze turning slightly peculiar.
“I've met your sister and brother.”
He casually dropped a bombshell.
“Isabella and Aaron.”
“Oh!!”
Jack sprang to his feet. This time, Elias didn't use the gun to force him back.
A brilliant light erupted in Jack's eyes, and he even took a step forward.
“How are they?!”
“Are they still alive?!”
“Ever since the manor was attacked by the Mist Veil Society, I've been on the run alone. I lost all contact with them long ago.”
The hope in Jack's eyes was almost overflowing, but his voice trembled.
“Trust me,”
Elias said, looking into the youth's eyes as his tone gradually softened.
“you won't want to hear about Isabella.”
“As for Aaron...”
Elias paused.
“He should have headed north by now.”
“That's good then,”
Jack murmured.
As if drained of all his strength, he slumped back into the chair.
A single tear escaped the corner of his eye, sliding down his cheek.
“That's good... Poor Isabella...”
He had clearly guessed what had happened to his sister.
In this world where supernatural powers ran rampant, a woman captured by the Mist Veil Society would face a fate far worse than death.
Elias watched him vent his emotions with a cold eye.
However, the logical deduction in his mind had completely closed its loop.
“So that's why you mistook Ophelia and me for Mist Veil Society cultists.”
Elias added out of the blue.
“Yeah!”
Jack admitted frankly.
He rubbed his slightly reddened eyes and spread his hands helplessly.
“I thought they had caught up to me.”
The young man gave a bitter laugh.
Then,
he cautiously pointed at the muzzle that was still steadily aimed at him.
In a weak voice, he spoke.
“So, brother, can you put the gun down now?”
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