Whatever bond had remained between Yona and her father was broken, but she did not show it. She did occasional work for him, just to make sure she stayed plugged in to whatever he was doing, but mostly, she lived the life of a profligate heiress, and tried to stay as far from him as was possible while still living under the same roof. Vitaly did the opposite, working himself up the ranks until he was Zima’s right-hand-man. He did not, however, earn the title of “Little Zima” like some had called him in his youth. That title was given to Aleksandr.

  Aleksandr took to the Bratva life like he was born for it. Apparently, the woman that Zima thought was good enough to betray his family for was a prostitute, and Aleksandr grew up on the streets, so he knew them well. He started running low-level operations, but he was intelligent and decisive enough to quickly work his way up the ladder, and though he did not quite have the trust of Zima’s trueborn son, many in their business saw him as the true “Little Zima.”

  Yona tried to ignore him as best she could. She had hardly spoken a word to him since the day he arrived, and she preferred to keep it that way. She hated the way he looked so much like their father, and she hated what his existence indicated about her father’s character, and her mother’s life. She preferred not to think of it at all, if she could help it.

  Overall, it wasn’t a bad life. The times when she did run into her father and half brother ruined her mood for the day, but she was good at avoiding them, leaving her free to use her days as she pleased. She had found just about every good restaurant in the city, she knew all the best places to shop, and best of all, she had good subordinates. At first, they were all her father’s men, but one by one, she managed to get rid of them. It wasn’t actually that hard, as long as she maintained her image as a frivolous brat. Letting her food get cold was a perfectly valid reason to dismiss a servant she knew was spying for her father.

  Years passed like this, and she settled into her life. An outsider might have thought she had the perfect life. All she did was eat, sleep, and play. Yona herself was content most of the time, but there were always reminders that her position was more precarious than it seemed. There were certain parts of the city she couldn’t enter without a thorough disguise, there were times when her father gave an emergency lockdown order, forcing her to stay home for her own safety, and occasionally, a maid or guard or two would simply vanish, never to be seen again. Yona already knew what happened to them, and did not bother to ask.

  When Vitaly finally asked her out to dinner to have a serious conversation for the first time in years, she was almost relieved. A bit of seriousness to spice up the apathy and lethargy of her normal life was more than welcome.

  “Vitya!” she called happily when she arrived.

  “Yona,” said Vitaly, nodding and returning none of her enthusiasm.

  She gave him a hug, then waited for him to pull the chair out for her before sitting down. The restaurant was empty aside from the two of them, their guards at the entrances, and whatever staff was required to prepare a dinner for two. Yona hummed as she looked through the menu, but Vitaly barely glanced at it, instead looking at Yona. He had never quite perfected their father’s icy stare, so despite his attempt to look unreadable, Yona could tell that whatever they were about to talk about would be unpleasant.

  “Let’s save it for after dinner,” she said without looking up. “This place has really good food, and I don’t want to ruin my appetite.”

  “...Alright.”

  The conversation during their meal was subdued, but mundane. Yona talked about some of the food she had eaten and the movies she had seen, while Vitaly talked about his own hobby, painting. When they finished, Vitaly looked like he wanted to jump into the serious topic, but Yona held up a finger to stop him, and made him wait until she had eaten dessert as well.

  “Okay, what is it?” she asked, wiping her face with her napkin.

  “Well…” started Vitaly. “I was sorting through the ledgers, and I found something… I wasn’t sure if I should tell you, but in the end, I decided you should know too.”

  “What is it?”

  Vitaly reached into his jacket and pulled out a yellow envelope and handed it across the table. It had around two dozen sheets of paper inside, the first of which was a printed copy of a document whose format she recognized from the few times she saw Zima’s ledgers.

  At a glance, the first seemed to be an ordinary payment. Ordinary for their line of work, at least. Zima had paid off a man to perform an unspecified task. The sum was unusually high, but not so outrageous that it raised red flags. At the bottom of the page, though, the recipient’s name had been highlighted. Yona flipped to the next page, and her eyes widened. It was a dossier, and the picture at the top was one that she recognized. It was the man who had kidnapped her.

  She flipped back to the previous page and checked the date, and was immediately filled with rage. The date was before she was kidnapped. And it was bigger than her supposed ransom had been. The third page was a clipping of a newspaper listing the very same man as a missing person with yet another picture of his face.

  Unable to control her anger, she crumpled the papers in her fist. She had actually gone back to look for her friend later on. Around the time when they would have been at university together. Instead of finding out where she lived, all she found was an obituary, and when she dug deeper, she found that her once friend had died of a drug overdose before she even made it to university. The girl Yona knew would never have done anything like that. Turning to drugs had been a direct result of her experience while kidnapped, and in turn, was a direct result of Zima’s actions.

  “Is this real?” she asked in a steely tone.

  “I’ve verified it as well as I can,” said Vitaly. “It was years ago, but he keeps records of everything, no matter how incriminating. And there’s more. Keep reading.”

  Yona stared at the remaining papers apprehensively, then kept flipping through. Each new revelation filled her with disgust. Half of the papers were related to the disappearances of people in their house. More specifically, the ones related to Yona. The maid around her age that Yona had begun to befriend who was later outed as a “spy” was actually sold to a trafficking group. The bodyguard who said he would run away with Yona if she asked was killed by a hitman hired by Zima, not by a rival gang like she was told. The waiter at her favorite restaurant who was perhaps a bit too flirtatious with her didn’t get a new job like his co-workers thought he did.

  The other half detailed Zima’s infidelity, both before and after his marriage. There were bank records and even timestamped photographs that proved that he had never been faithful. Not once. One was even marked as happening two weeks after the date of the wedding. When she finished going through them all, she set the papers and envelope down, closed her eyes, and took a few deep breaths. When she opened her eyes again, her gaze was icier than her father’s had ever been.

  “You’ve checked that all this is real?” she said.

  “As well as I could,” Vitaly replied. “Some of it is impossible to truly verify, but…”

  “I understand,” said Yona.

  “What do you plan to do?” asked Vitaly.

  “Right now?” asked Yona. “Nothing. I just want to sleep. Tomorrow, I will decide.”

  “Alright.”

  Vitaly almost seemed relieved, as though he was worried that she was going to storm up to Zima and interrogate him right then. About half of her wanted to do just that. Another part of her wanted to wait until he was sleeping and shoot him. The last rational part of her brain was formulating a better plan. One that wouldn’t end up with her being shot by her own family’s guards.

  The next morning, she ate breakfast with the family for the first time in months. Afterward, she slipped a note into Vitaly’s hand. Then, she went to make her preparations.

  A few hours later, she was in the basement, holding a baseball bat and waiting in the interrogation room. She had not waited long before she heard the sound of footsteps approaching. The door opened, and Zima stepped in, followed by Vitaly. They did not notice Yona at first, as she was flush against the wall behind the door, and Zima stepped too far in for her to be in his periphery.

  “Where is—?” started Zima.

  The baseball bat slammed into his knee, ending his question and sending him to the ground.

  “Tie him up!” said Yona, tossing Vitaly a rope before raising the bat to swing again.

  Vitaly was shocked for a moment, but quickly got to work, and soon, Zima was bound tightly on the floor, both of his legs broken and bent at odd angles. Despite it all, the man had somehow not let out a sound, and even as he writhed in pain, he refused to scream.

  “Put him in the chair,” said Yona.

  Vitaly did as he was told, and when he was finished, he took a step back and gave Yona a questioning look. Yona tossed the bloodied bat aside and drew a pistol from her waist, pointing it at the man in the chair. Vitaly’s eyes widened in shock, but he still did not interfere.

  “Hello, Father,” said Yona.

  “Yona,” said Zima weakly. “Are you trying to usurp me?”

  “Shut up,” she replied. “I’m asking the questions.”

  “Ask away,” he said with a pained, false smile.

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why anything?” she demanded. “You had me kidnapped. You sold my favorite maid. You killed my favorite bodyguard. You cheated on Mom and shamelessly brought your bastard here as if there was nothing wrong. Why?! Why do any of that?!”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “To protect you.”

  “To protect me!?”

  “We are not normal people, Yona,” he said. “Our lives are different. You didn’t understand that. You needed to understand that.”

  “I needed to be kidnapped?! I needed to listen to my friend get raped in the other room?!”

  “That was not my intention. I told them to kill her.”

  A shot rang out, and a bloody hole appeared in her father’s shoulder. Even so, he did not scream. He just gritted his teeth and bore with it.

  “Do you even hear yourself?” she asked.

  “It was all–” he gasped. “–for you. You needed to understand the danger. The–”

  “The danger you put me in?”

  “Yes, the danger I put you in. I have many enemies. What if it had been one of them? You needed to understand the danger you were in, so that I could keep you safe. If not for that, you would have run away.”

  “Yes. I would have. And what’s wrong with that?”

  “I needed to protect you. I promised Irina–”

  Another shot rang out, hitting Zima’s other shoulder.

  “Don’t say her name,” Yona hissed.

  “Yona,” Vitaly said softly at her side.

  “Stay out of this,” she said before turning her attention back to the bleeding man. “And you. Did she ask you to protect me if anything happened to her?”

  “Yes, and I–”

  “And what gives you the right to have her last wish? You didn’t even love her.”

  “I did love her.”

  “You–”

  “Don’t question my love for Irina!” he shouted.

  For the first time since her mother’s death, she saw her father’s mask slip. His face was contorted in rage and pain, and his voice was hoarse and full of anguish.

  “Irina was the light of my life!” he continued. “Before her, my life had no meaning. She gave me purpose. She gave me you!”

  “And you cheated on her,” said Yona. “Not once. Not twice, but countless times.”

  She reached into her pocket and pulled out the pictures and bank records from the previous night and tossed them on the floor.

  “I am a weak man,” said Zima, a tear running down his cheek. “I am vile, pathetic, and utterly irredeemable. The Lord himself could not save me, but Irina saw it all and loved me anyway. And I loved her. Call me evil. Call me unfaithful. Call me the devil, if you will. But you can never take that away from me.”

  “Mom wouldn’t have wanted this!”

  “I know!” he shouted. “I know…”

  “Then why?!”

  “I didn’t know what else to do. This is all I’ve ever known. I thought that if you were by my side, I could keep you safe. If you understood the danger, you would want to stay. We could all be together, and you would be content.”

  “Do I look content to you?”

  “No,” he said, bowing his head. “You do not.”

  Yona did not respond immediately. She was not sure how. She felt like her entire world was being shattered. Many aspects of her father’s image had been shattered over the years, but this was the first time that she felt she was finally seeing his true self. A weak, pathetic man hiding behind a mask of strength. A delusional man who believed his corrupted idea of love was valid justification for his sins.

  The rage she felt vanished. The hatred was dulled. She had planned to drag things out longer. To make him suffer for what he had done. But even though learning that all his actions had been a bastardization of her mother’s final wish should have made her hate him more, it just made her sad.

  “Just kill me,” he said. “It’s what I deserve.”

  Wordlessly, Yona raised the gun and aimed it at his chest.

  “I will go to Hell, but maybe I’ll get to see Irina one final time on the way down.”

  “Yona, wait,” said Vitaly, putting a hand on her shoulder.

  Then, she shot him. Right in the chest. He looked down at the rapidly darkening part of his shirt, eyes wide, as if he was shocked that she actually did it. Then, he looked back up at her with tears in his eyes.

  “I’m– sorry–”

  Then, he slumped forward, unmoving. Yona let her arms fall, and for a moment, there was stillness in the room. Then, Vitaly stepped up to her and pulled her into a long hug.

  “This was my choice, not yours,” whispered Yona.

  I watch my father die for a second time, expecting a System notification telling me that I succeeded in my Trial, but no such thing appears. Instead, the scene shifts once again, and I see myself in a restaurant. It’s a similar scene to the previous one, with the entire restaurant empty save for me and my brother, except this time, it’s my other brother, Aleksandr. As I watch the waiter bring out a silver tray of scallops, I realize why the Trial hasn’t ended.

  In my past life, I never actually became Zima. I was never Winter like he was. Vitaly took that title, while I distanced myself from the bratva life. But the Trial wants me to become Winter, and the only way to do that is if I survive. And if I don’t interfere here, I won’t. Because this scene right here is my final moments.

  For the first time all Trial, I will myself to interfere, and a moment later, I am inside my own body. My human body, sitting across from my treacherous half-brother. With my fork halfway to my mouth, I pause, then slowly lower the scallop back to the plate.

  “Is something wrong?” asks Aleksandr.

  “Oh, sorry,” I say. “I just got a text.”

  “Ah, but it can wait, can’t it?”

  I ignore him, my phone already in my hand and open to my text messages. I quickly scroll to Vitaly, and send him a quick passphrase we came up with to make sure we weren’t compromised. A few seconds later, the response arrives. And it’s wrong.

  With a sigh, I put my phone away and instead pull out my gun.

  “Wh–” Aleksandr starts.

  A bloody hole appears in his forehead, and he slumps forward, dead. The guards come rushing in, freezing when they see me calmly sipping my wine in front of Aleksandr’s corpse.

  “He tried to kill me,” I say. “I acted in self defense.”

  The guards share glances, having a silent conversation. I’m sure that Aleksandr bought most of them off, but I know him well enough to know that none of them are truly loyal. He was not capable of inspiring loyalty. Now that he’s dead, they have no more reason to follow him.

  “Of course,” says one of them. “I’ll get some men on cleanup duty.”

  “Thank you,” I say. “And make sure no one eats any of my food. It’s poisoned.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “The rest of you, escort me back to the house.”

  Cleaning up Aleksandr’s mess is so easy it’s almost disappointing. I text a picture of Aleksandr’s body to Vitaly’s number. There is no response. When I summon all of the people working in the manor, one group of them fails to arrive, presumably the ones panicking about having the body of the family head to take care of.

  “Aleksandr is dead,” I announce. “Vitaly most likely is as well. That’s why I killed Aleksandr. From now on, I’ll be in charge.”

  I give them a few seconds to whisper amongst themselves before continuing. I was hoping that would be enough to finish it.

  “All of you are to write reports and tell me of what you have been doing, both over and under the table. Also, find Vitaly’s body if you can. He deserves a proper burial.”

  Still not enough?

  “And one final thing,” I say. “Spread the word. Zima is back.”

  [ You have completed the Trial: Yona, Winter! ]

  Finally. Now get me the hell out of this place.

  The System does not respond immediately, but I am kicked out of my own body, forced to watch as my human self goes upstairs to the office that once belonged to my father, and later to my brother. I sit down in the chair, and my spirit self is moved so that I am floating right in front of the desk. Then, the me behind the desk adopts the same exact pose depicted in the painting, with the exact same expression. The only difference is the drop of blood on my face that I failed to wipe off after killing Aleksandr. The world freezes, then warps, and suddenly, I’m back in the white hallway, staring at the painting of Yona, Winter.

  The painting has changed. It’s now identical to the final scene I just saw, with me in a simple dress instead of a suit, and with a drop of blood on my face. I let myself daydream for a moment about what could have been, then turn away.

  “That sucked,” I say. “You’d better have some good news for me, or else I swear to the goddess of bitches that I am going to find out where you live, and I’m going to do something that you won’t like. And it won’t just be an inconvenience. There will be blood. I have never been in a worse mood in my life, and it is entirely your fault.”

  I wait for a full minute, but there is no response.

  “Coward!” I call.

  Finally, a response arrives.

  [ I am so incredibly sorry that I don’t even know how to put it into words. If I could go back in time and do it all over again, I would never make the same decision I did. I doubt you’ll forgive me, but I truly did not intend to force something like that upon you. I take full responsibility for letting my petty anger get the best of me. ]

  “Hmph. Well, that’s a start. Maybe only a little bit of blood. What about my Evolution?”

  [ Fortunately, I do have good news on that front. The process is still ongoing, but you’re out of the danger zone. The combination has more or less already succeeded, and we’re just waiting on the final results. However, there is also bad news, and I have to apologize once again because it is once again entirely my fault. The Trials and Evolutions are decoupled on my end, and my boss assured me that while the Trials are created for the Evolutions, but they don’t determine the Evolutions themselves. That is mostly true, but it’s also not completely true. ]

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  [ Well, in short, probably nothing. Your selection determines your Evolution, and that’s final. However, by completing that Trial, you have also earned the Name Yona, Winter. Frankly, I have no idea what that will do to you, and neither does my boss, but we are both working overtime on this to make sure that it does not inconvenience you in any way. In the worst case scenario, we will do a manual override to make sure it doesn’t affect you, and that you still get the Evolution that you chose. But, I also cannot guarantee that nothing will happen. ]

  “That’s a lot of words just to say that you have no idea what will happen.”

  [ Yes, but I want to make it clear that nothing bad will happen. Whatever happens, your Evolution and Name will be whatever the combination function spits out. I just cannot guarantee what else may or may not happen. ]

  “Hmph. Well, I guess that is better than nothing.”

  [ Once again, I am incredibly sorry for all of this. ]

  “I know how you can apologize.”

  [ How? I’ll gladly make it up to you, if it’s within my power. ]

  “You are my minion now.”

  [ …What? ]

  “You’re my minion. You are now the Annoying Red Box that will help me with my Evolutions, and that’s that. You can’t refuse.”

  [ I don’t think my employer would approve of this arrangement. ]

  “Don’t care. You’re my minion now, and you have to do what I say. Now, Annoying Red Minion— Hey, that’s actually pretty good. You’re Arm now. Now, Arm, tell me how long my Evolution will take to finish combining so that I know how long I can nap for.

  [ Actually, your Trial was on the longer side, so it should be finishing up any— ]

  Before I can finish reading the message, the world spins, and my vision goes dark, and when I can finally see again, I find myself back in the dark room beneath the city, feeling stronger than ever.