Joel stared at the empty cup in his hands with a mixture of awe and restrained excitement. The effect of the liquid Nana created still coursed through his body with a vibrant warmth, unlike any potion he'd ever tasted before. His senses felt sharper, his muscles firmer, and his mind clearer. It wasn't just power; it was control, stability, and clarity.

  For the first time since he'd begun living with the iron statue, the fears he'd once harbored about its nature began to dissipate. Nana was not only a sentient and dangerous entity, she was also a source of unparalleled power.

  He began to wonder: how much bigger could the house grow? How far could he himself evolve if he found enough magical blood to feed Nana? His old instinct of caution—the one that had saved him so many times in the past—was now a distant voice, barely audible after the intoxicating prospect of growing stronger.

  He remembered what Nana had done to Paul, and for a moment, an echo of fear loomed in his mind. What if the Baron retaliated? What if Alicia's guards returned with reinforcements? But that doubt dissipated as quickly as it had arisen. Joel had sensed the latent power in the house, the absolute control Nana exerted over every corner of its interior, and the ease with which she could neutralize even a seemingly experienced mage like Paul. As long as her enemies weren't at exaggerated power levels, there would be no real danger.

  Furthermore, Alicia—capricious, naive, but surprisingly perceptive in certain respects—seemed to have accepted a rather convenient version of reality: that of an eccentric, reclusive, and somewhat temperamental nobleman. This image, however false, gave Joel a layer of social protection he could use to his advantage. Even his cold treatment of Paul and the others had been justified by that same perception.

  Deep down, Joel was grateful that Nana hadn't hurt Alicia. Not because he had any special affection for her, but because he knew such an action would have had immediate and uncontrollable consequences. Nana, in her uncanny intelligence, had known exactly how far to go.

  Now, Joel saw only possibilities: the expansion of the house's power, the strategic harvesting of magical blood, and the use of that image of a mysterious nobleman to attract—and control—new resources. Ariel lay asleep on one of the chairs, oblivious for now to the gears beginning to turn in Joel's mind. But he already knew: the house was alive, and he had begun to dream of a future where he would never have to hide again.

  The next morning, Joel's unbridled ambitions cooled somewhat, allowing him to observe everything with a more lucid mind. Power was tempting, yes, but it was also dangerous when pursued aimlessly. Something had to be built, not simply accumulated. He came to a clear conclusion: this remote region, forgotten by most empires and high-level conflicts, was actually an opportunity. Here, away from the eyes of the empire's most powerful mages, away from the control of the magical academies and the strict scrutiny of the high castes, there was room to grow. With patience and strategy.

  Everything had to start with the simplest thing: establishing a useful and stable relationship with Alicia… and perhaps with her father. He didn't know much about him yet, but as ruler of Maroth County, he must have resources, influence, and ties to the magical world. If Joel could gain his trust as an artist—if his art began to circulate, generate interest, attract visitors—then, perhaps, magicians of all kinds would begin to gravitate toward him And if they did, Nana could absorb what she needed without anyone noticing. It would be a slow process, but much safer.

  That same day, Joel communicated with Nana again through Ariel. The girl still didn't fully understand the topics they were discussing, but she conveyed the messages with disconcerting ease. The connection was becoming more and more fluid, almost as if she and the statue had shared a common language for years.

  “Nana says she’s determined not to scare anyone while they’re in the house,” Ariel said, her voice calm. “And that she won’t do any harm, or drink blood, without good reason.”

  Joel nodded, satisfied. “And what about drinking blood quietly?”

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  Ariel tilted his head, as if listening to something far away. Then he smiled sweetly. “She says yes… that she can do it without anyone noticing. But she needs them not to arrive too weak, or it will be harder for her to restrain herself.”

  It was a warning, but also a promise. Nana agreed to play the game and understood the rules of discretion. And that meant that, if Joel handled things right, no one would get hurt… or at least, not right away.

  Joel had taken the first step toward building something, not just a new life, but a special, living, magical place that would grow alongside him. And it all began with a well-placed smile, a well-aimed compliment to the right people… and a carefully crafted invitation to attract more magicians to his doorstep.

  Joel set to work on the statue Alicia had commissioned, this time with even more dedication than the first. Without the veiled tension of their first encounter, without the misgivings clouding his mind, he began to work with an almost meditative concentration. He had before him some sketches he had made from memory, quick charcoal strokes that barely captured the young woman's features, but were enough to guide his hands. The rest was made up for by his memories, still fresh.

  It was then, in that productive calm, that he allowed himself to remember the young woman more closely. Alicia, during his visit, had seemed to him to be a figure both ethereal and firm. She had long, golden hair that fell in soft waves to the middle of her back, like strands of honey glistening in the light. Her face seemed clear and symmetrical, with serene yet expressive features. Her eyes, a soft almond green, possessed an attentive, almost inquisitive gaze, oscillating between contained curiosity and the composure of someone accustomed to maintaining appearances. In his memory, Joel remembered her gracefully brushing a wayward strand of hair away from her face, with an almost automatic gesture that, without knowing why, he found beautiful.

  As he carved, Joel was surprised to notice his mind beginning to wander more than usual. He felt uncomfortable. Not because of Alicia—or because of her warm and kind memory—but because that thought was displaced by something deeper and more constant. The memory of Liria.

  He couldn't stop her image from seeping into his chiseled works. That woman remained vivid in his memory like a persistent shadow. There was no way to think about power, danger, or the inexplicable without her face appearing.

  Moved by an inner restlessness, Joel approached another block of stone and began to carve without thinking. First, general strokes, then a feminine form, with long dark hair and a firm stance, as if facing the world with a dangerous serenity. It was her, Liria. It was as if his body knew what his mind still wouldn't admit: that he was still tied to that impossible-to-understand figure. And that, perhaps, the only way to get closer to her was to sculpt her. To bring her back with every fragment of stone that had fallen away.

  Joel worked in silence, torn between two images: a young noblewoman who represented opportunity and the present, and another distant, powerful, and enigmatic figure who continued to haunt his soul.

  Joel finished both statues with plenty of time for his planned retreat. Gazing at them once completed, he couldn't help but feel awestruck. There was something about these figures that transcended the stone; a latent presence, as if the emotions he had poured into every stroke of the chisel still resonated.

  The statue of Alice stood with serene elegance. Her posture was graceful, almost ethereal, as if she were about to turn to the observer with a word on her lips. The noble robes, crafted with almost obsessive patience, fell in folds so delicate they seemed like real fabric. The face, serene and youthful, conveyed the polite nobility he had perceived during her short visit. It was, without a doubt, a work worthy of admiration.

  The other figure, in contrast, was a world apart. Liria had been sculpted standing, her gaze steady, her arms in a position that suggested constant vigilance. It wasn't beauty that defined this work, but the restrained intensity of her features. Her simpler clothing was molded with a harsh realism, prepared for combat. There were no embellishments or ornaments: only the essence of a woman born to survive.

  Joel observed both, standing before them, feeling a silent knot in his chest. He admired both works equally, yes, but it was Liria's statue that managed to bring a smile to his face. A melancholic, soft smile that barely curved his lips. Because in that silent stone figure, there was more than artistic talent: there was obsession, and perhaps love.

  When the time came to deliver the Alice statue, Joel felt a pang of disappointment when she didn't appear. He had expected, perhaps unwittingly, a second visit, a direct word of thanks, a look of approval. But all he received was a group of guards, dressed in impeccable uniforms and with imperturbable faces.

  They handed him a heavy leather bag, overflowing with gold coins, with no more ceremony than a brief bow. However, the way they treated the sculpture spoke for itself. They wrapped it in fine linen cloths, checking every corner with extreme care, and then placed it inside a reinforced box, filled with soft, padded sawdust. They moved as if handling an ancestral relic, and that was enough for Joel to understand that, at least, his work had been appreciated.

  Still, when the guards disappeared down the path toward the village, Joel simply stood for a few seconds, staring at the horizon. Then he sighed and returned to the house.

  Perhaps—he thought as he crossed the threshold—his expectations had been too high from the start. Perhaps he wasn't taken into account enough and his art isn't that great. After all, Joel doesn't really know the level of artists in the empires, since his memories and experiences come from a man who lived in a completely different world.

  He still has ambitions to grow Nana and the house, but perhaps everything needs to be rethought, to find other ways to attract mages and extract their blood. He still has plenty of time to do everything slowly and safely.