Chapter 28: A Loving Father

  As I stepped forward, I briefly considered setting an Anchor Point with Checkpoint.

  Given that I’d already accepted this visit was a one-way ticket – and that Stanford would probably kill me once he was done messing with my head – it seemed like the logical thing to do.

  But I held off. Not yet.

  With only a thirty-minute window, Checkpoint had to be used only when I felt actual danger. It might be a lot harder to time right this way, sure – but I’d rather miss the chance to use it altogether than misplace the skill’s Anchor Point and curse myself for wasting it for the entire loop.

  “Hello?” I called out, stepping inside fully and gently closing the door behind me.

  No answer.

  A narrow corridor stretched ahead, its floor a polished wood. It led to a large hall at the far end. Along the corridor walls hung framed black-and-white photographs. Stanford appeared in most of them, alongside a young girl who appeared in all of them.

  His daughter? It sure looked like it by their closeness to each other.

  The photos traced her growth: a toddler in one, a preschooler in another, then a child no older than ten, her haircut boyish. Stanford aged with her in the photos, but in the seemingly most recent one – the one where she was seemingly ten – he looked slightly younger than how I knew him now.

  But something was off. Or rather – someone was missing.

  There wasn’t a single photo of the girl’s mother. Not even one.

  Even if she had passed, you’d expect at least a few solo portraits out of remembrance. But the absence felt deliberate.

  Maybe she left. Maybe she cheated. Maybe Stanford didn’t want anything of her in this house.

  I let the thought fade as I reached the end of the corridor and stepped into the hall.

  The hall turned out to be a living room. Three couches were arranged in a half-circle around a now unlit fireplace, with a low coffee table set between them. Bookcases lined up the walls, each shelf packed tight. Two windows faced me on the far wall, completely veiled by heavy dark-blue curtains. A red circular rug lay over the wooden floor, while a small, metallic toolbox rested beside the fireplace.

  To the left, an open doorway revealed what looked like a kitchen. To the right, a wooden staircase led upward.

  I stopped beside the largest couch, scanning the room.

  “I’m here!” I called out.

  Again, there was no answer.

  Stanford had invited me here – so where the hell was he?

  I sighed.

  What was his point in bringing me here?

  I walked toward the nearest bookcase and scanned the spines. Nothing stood out. No cryptic title. No gaps in the collection. Just rows of well-kept, ordinary books.

  I crossed into the kitchen and gave it a quick look.

  Just a regular kitchen. It was slightly more luxurious than the ones I was used to seeing in Orlinth, but a regular one, nonetheless. The only thing that stood out was the refrigerator – powered by a Cryora. Now that…that was real luxury.

  No one I knew in Orlinth had a refrigerator in their house.

  On the dining table, two empty porcelain teacups rested beside a matching teapot.

  For a second, I thought he’d prepared tea for my arrival – but no. The cups had been used already. Stains circled their insides. And when I touched the teapot itself, I realized it was cold.

  He hadn’t set this up for me.

  Knowing full well I was probably walking into some kind of trap, I figured I might as well improve my odds.

  I stepped toward the refrigerator and grabbed its sides, straining as I pulled. It was a lot heavier than it looked – and I was apparently a lot weaker than I thought – but after some effort, I managed to inch it forward just enough to access the back panel.

  Then I returned to the living room and grabbed the toolbox.

  Please have what I need. Please have what I need.

  It did.

  A torsion wrench. A few screwdrivers.

  Perfect.

  I crouched behind the refrigerator and unscrewed the back panel, revealing what I was looking for – a Cryora crystal embedded in the internal socket, its surface was glazed over with frost.

  It was still active, still producing cold. Touching it directly now would mean instant frostbite, so instead, I slipped a screwdriver in next to it and gently pressed it loose. With a soft clink, it popped free and dropped to the floor. Almost immediately, the ice faded as the mana crystal went dormant.

  I scooped it up and stored it in the Inventory.

  Then I stepped back into the hall and made my way upstairs.

  “I’m coming up.” I called, unsure why exactly. Maybe because it felt like I was being watched. Maybe because I thought talking aloud and announcing my moves might somehow shake Stanford’s confidence – whatever twisted plan he’d cooked up here.

  The stairs continued upward, but I stopped at the second floor for now. It opened into a small landing with three doors – one on each wall around me.

  I walked up to the first and leaned in, trying to catch any sound from the other side.

  Silence.

  Nerves prickling, I summoned the Foldable Sword from the Inventory and snapped it open with a flick of my wrist.

  Then I pressed down the handle.

  Inside was what looked like a guest room. Modest and clean. A single bed, a closet, a cupboard, a small desk and a chair, and a curtained window. Another door inside led to a small bathroom.

  Nothing in the room stood out.

  I stepped back into the hall and approached the second and central door, sword in hand, feeling utterly ridiculous.

  It looked relatively newly installed.

  I tried the handle.

  Locked.

  I could try freezing it with Cryora. But only as a last resort. Better to keep my only crystal safe for now.

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  I moved on to the third and final door. This one, just like the first, opened easily.

  The bedroom behind it was similar in style to the guest room, just slightly more refined – and noticeably more personal. Made sense. This was likely Stanford’s room.

  It had more photographs of the same little girl, and a phonograph resting on the desk, no vinyl in sight.

  Honestly? Kind of disappointing.

  With all his money and CMA clout, I half-expected a room that screamed wealth. But this? And the entire house, for that matter? They felt way too modest for someone from Skyhaven.

  I stepped over to the cupboard and began rummaging through the drawers. More books. Jewelry. Pocket watches – things that fetch a good price if I were a thief.

  But I wasn’t.

  I was about to move toward the closet, but something caught my eye in the last drawer – peeking out from beneath a wooden box holding a golden watch.

  A small brass key.

  Glowing faintly with a purple aura.

  [Temporal Trace: Time Plane Memory #4 - Available]

  Another memory fragment?

  My heart thundered. Finding one here – inside a house I was lured into – was terrifying.

  But my curiosity overrode the fear.

  After the previous fragment, I was desperate to find another. Hoping they’d reveal more about my mother’s death – who had killed her, and more importantly, why.

  I reached out and touched the key.

  [Would you like to watch the memory?]

  [YES / NO]

  Yes.

  And instantly, my mind was pulled from the present, dragged into a not-so-distant past.

  ***

  [Time Plane Memory #4]

  Graham Stanford locked the central room on the second floor with a small, brass key, the click echoing louder than he intended.

  “Are you seriously locking me in?” A girl’s voice called out from within. Teenaged. Calm, but indignant.

  Stanford stood frozen, sweat sliding down his temples. He leaned his forehead gently against the door, hands trembling violently.

  “It’s just for a little while, Sweetie.” He said, forcing a light tone. “I just need to speak to someone downstairs. It’s better if you stay in here.”

  There was a pause.

  “Better for who?” She asked sharply. “Who’s down there? Is it about Mom?”

  Stanford winced. “No. It’s not. It’s about work.” He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. “But I need you to trust me on this. Just this once, okay? Stay in the room. It’s for your safety.”

  Another pause.

  “…Right. Because I’m just supposed to sit here and pretend that locking me up is normal.”

  His expression tightened. His hand hovered near the keyhole as if to undo what he’d done – but he didn’t.

  Instead, he nodded to himself, ran both hands through his white hair to straighten it, and took one final breath before turning and walking downstairs.

  Waiting for him on the first floor, seated calmly on the living room couch, was none other than the Head of Solvane – Primarch Dalton Rose.

  He wore his official robes: a pristine white suit, a black buttoned shirt beneath it, and a deep red tie completing the ensemble. His silver collar chain bore the crests of the eleven ruling families. And from his belt, a golden chain looped into the pocket of his jacket – probably a pocket watch.

  Another man – a bodyguard by the looks of it – stood near the curtained window, eyes flicking outside every few seconds. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and silent. The type who could crack your skull open with his bare hands without using a Kinetra.

  “I’m sorry for the wait – “ Stanford began, stepping into the room, but Primarch Rose raised a hand, and he stopped.

  “Graham, you’ve already wasted enough of my time.” Dalton Rose said, his tone calm but sharp. “Sit. Let’s get to business.”

  “O-of course.” Stanford stammered, his voice shaking slightly. He nodded and quickly took a seat on the couch opposite the Primarch.

  “Considering our personal history – and the…nature of your marriage – I felt it necessary to tell you this myself.” Dalton Rose said evenly, before dropping the bomb. “Your wife – I’ve given an order to take her out.”

  Stanford shifted on the couch. His posture stiffened, but his expression held no surprise.

  The Primarch continued. “Now, it doesn’t mean it’ll happen today. Or tomorrow. Or even this week. But it will happen. The Obsidian Crows have their orders. They’ll act once the terms are optimal. I trust Casten on this front.”

  Stanford opened his mouth, hesitated, then glanced briefly toward the staircase. When he turned back to Dalton Rose, he stammered at first, but eventually managed to turn the thought into a sentence. “Are you sure…that’s the only way, Primarch?”

  Dalton Rose raised an eyebrow. “She conspired with him. I’m left with no choice here, Graham. No matter what great things she had contributed to Solvane, she’s compromised now – tainted by whatever lies that…” His face twisted with disgust and anger. “Creature had told her.”

  He took a deep breath, steadying himself instantly, like a trained actor. “I need to show him that I can strike where it hurts. That he might be hidden. But his allies? They're not untouchable. Maybe then he’ll finally yield – maybe then we can finally negotiate.”

  “What if it has the opposite effect? What if he…” Stanford’s voice turned into a whisper, “brings his might here? To Skyhaven?”

  The Primarch’s eyes narrowed. “Thanks to your wife, he now can. And that’s exactly what I’m trying to prevent now.” He said, leaning back, hands folding. “The people think that I don’t care about Orlinth or the Foundry. Maybe they’re right. But one thing that I do care about is order. I want to see Solvane ticking just like intended. And with Valdemar’s constant attacks on the lower-tiers, that is impossible. He kills regular citizens, and they still cheer for him. Ironically, it is me who actually tries to save them."

  Stanford said nothing at first. He glanced again toward the staircase. “And still…killing her? Her?”

  Dalton Rose sighed and shook his head. “Graham, don’t tell me you actually fell in love with her.” His voice became sharper now. “I know you hadn’t, so don’t lie. Your marriage was always just a legal union. And we both know she had known that as well. She needed the benefits of marrying a Skyhavener when she arrived, and I needed someone to keep a close eye on her. It suited us both.” He gestured around them. “And this house? She hasn’t lived here in – what – six years? You even removed all her photographs as if that would erase her from your life.”

  “Seven.” Stanford corrected quietly, his gaze focused on the floor.

  “Seven.” The Primarch echoed, rolling his eyes. He leaned forward, elbows on knees. “I also know your daughter still sees her. And that, my old friend…that might be a problem.”

  Stanford’s eyes widened. “W-why? She loves her. That’s why they meet, nothing more – I swear! She wouldn’t tell Thea anything about Valdemar. Why would she?? She’s just fourteen! She would never! I don’t – “

  Dalton Rose raised his hand, sharp and sudden, and Stanford stopped instantly.

  “Relax, Graham. You’re looking pathetic. I said it might be a problem.”

  Stanford, breathing heavily, lowered his head. “I’m sorry...”

  The Primarch sighed. “I lied earlier, Graham. I didn’t come here out of courtesy or friendship.”

  Stanford looked up, confused. “W-what?”

  “I came because I needed to see your reaction for myself.” The Primarch said coldly. “Because I don’t trust you anymore. It’s that simple.”

  Stanford stared, lips parted, frozen.

  Dalton Rose went on. “Your daughter is your entire world now – it’s clear to see. And to keep her happy? I believe you’d do anything. Warn her mother. Call Valdemar. Help him burn Skyhaven to the ground, if needed.”

  “I-I would never! I – “ Stanford choked out, voice breaking.

  But the Primarch wasn’t listening. His tone was final.

  “No. It’s decided.” He said. “I’ll take Thea. Hold her somewhere until I’m sure you won’t betray me.” He gestured toward the bodyguard. “Go up and grab the girl. We’re taking her with us. Use force if needed.”

  The bodyguard nodded once and stepped toward the staircase.

  Stanford collapsed to his knees, grabbing Dalton Rose’s arm. “Please! Dalton, I’m begging you. Don’t take her away! I swear! I swear you can trust me! I swear I won’t tell her anything! I’m on your side – I’m loyal! I’ve always been loyal!”

  Dalton Rose looked down on him with contempt.

  “What’s the difference, Graham?” He said condescendingly. “I know you already keep her locked in here half the time anyway. Embarrassed. Does it really matter which prison she stays in – yours, or mine? If anything, she’d be safer with me. At least this way Casten and his Crows won’t think about taking her out with her mother. If anything, you should be thankful.”

  Then he sharply yanked his arm free, striking Stanford across the face by doing so. “Either way, it’s too late now.” He said coldly. “The enemy is at our gates. And I can’t afford any more risks.”

  From upstairs, the sounds of a door breaking and Stanford’s daughter scream came rushing down.

  [Time Plane Memory #4 – END]

  ***

  I was knocked out of the memory, heart beating fast.

  There were too many connections forming in my mind, some of them too terrifying to fully unpack at the moment. I pushed them aside – for now.

  Instead, I focused on Stanford.

  Chronos and his crew assumed Valdemar was Dolos’ Champion. But…what if he wasn’t? What if the Champion wasn’t the mastermind behind Libra but just an accomplice? Someone with a personal reason to go against the ruling class. Someone like Graham Stanford – who’d had his daughter stolen from him and stood before and impossible choice: submit like a dog…or fight back.

  What if this was his way to ensure the safety of his daughter without picking a side? Maybe he just didn't know Dolos wasn't really on humanity's side?

  Still clutching the small brass key, now knowing exactly what it opened, I stepped back onto the second-floor landing and turned toward the locked door.

  Her room.

  My fingers tightened around the hilt of the Foldable Sword. I slid the key into the lock and turned it.

  The door slowly opened.

  And inside was something I never expected to find.

  Seated in the center of the room was the bloodied corpse of Graham Stanford. Five knives jutted from his chest. Pinned to the blades was a single piece of paper – half-soaked in blood.

  It read: Traitor.

  Then, the door downstairs creaked open.

  Someone else had entered the house.

  Update 06/07/25:

  Update 09/07/25: