CHAPTER 142: WE ARE LEAVING

Emma and William, with Nana resting comfortably in the former’s arms, followed the master of the tower deeper into the chamber. The stone corridor grew colder and quieter the further they walked, as if the tower itself were holding its breath.

Venessa followed closely behind them, her footsteps soft yet hesitant. Kaizek, however, remained firmly in place near the entrance of the earlier hall. He made no move to join them.

It was clear he had already predicted where this encounter would lead. Family drama was something he had no interest in witnessing—not when the outside world offered far more pleasant scenery than the tension building within these walls.

When Emma stepped into the room where her father usually spent hours reading and studying ancient texts, she froze mid-stride.

The familiar scent of old paper and incense faded from her awareness as her eyes locked onto the object Vitori was dragging forward.

"You can’t be serious..." she muttered, voice flat and trembling with disbelief. Her gaze was fixed on the chair—the one she recognized immediately. The one no one should ever sit on unless they were meant to suffer.

Venessa, who had stepped in only out of curiosity, now regretted her decision deeply. Her brows furrowed as she wondered whether she should have stayed outside. This atmosphere felt suffocating, like she had stumbled straight into the heart of a storm.

William looked between Emma and Vitori, confusion settling across his usually composed features. "And what could this be, Sir Vitori?" he asked, trying to understand what he had walked into.

Emma didn’t even look at him. Her eyes remained trained on her father as she spoke, her tone sharp and icy. "You can’t insult him like this, Father."

Vitori’s expression remained unreadable as he narrowed his eyes slightly. Then he turned toward the redheaded woman standing at the door. "Send Kaizek," he ordered. "And don’t let anyone else enter this room."

Venessa nodded stiffly, but before she could step out, Vitori added without turning around, "Why don’t you give the child some candies?"

The instruction was casual, almost gentle, but the tension in the air only thickened.

Venessa exhaled, then approached William. The man quickly understood the intention behind Vitori’s request. This conversation was about to become complicated, heavy, and possibly painful—not something Nana should witness.

He turned toward the girl, speaking softly into the little girl’s mind.

[Why don’t you go with her? She’s your big sister’s aunt, so she’s your aunt too.]

Nana’s small hand curled tighter around his shirt. Her eyes, still too perceptive for her age, flicked toward Vitori.

[Is big brother in trouble?] she whispered, concern clouding her expression. [That person seems upset about something.]

William sighed inwardly. Of course she noticed. She always did.

But he couldn’t let her worry.

[He isn’t upset,] he reassured gently. [He’s just not happy that Emma came to see him this late. It’s nothing serious. Now be a good girl and follow her for a little while, alright?]

Nana glanced once at Emma—seeking reassurance—before nodding with reluctant obedience. William helped her down from his arms.

Venessa smiled warmly as she took Nana’s hand. The two quietly exited the room, leaving the tense atmosphere behind.

William approached Emma, placing a firm yet gentle hand on her shoulder. Her anger was radiating off her in waves. Even if he couldn’t read her thoughts at the moment, the fury in her stiff posture was unmistakable.

"Emma," he murmured, "calm down. What exactly is that chair that you’re so furious about?"

Emma’s fists tightened. Her voice shook with restrained rage. "That chair has runes engraved into it that inflict unimaginable pain on whoever sits in it."

William’s breath caught. He turned toward Vitori again—the older man standing beside the chair without a single flicker of remorse.

Before either of them spoke again, Kaizek stepped into the room.

"You needed something, sir?" he asked, voice low and respectful.

Vitori faced him. "Tell us once more what you saw that day, Kaizek." Then he shifted his gaze to Emma. "Perhaps then my daughter will understand why I’m reacting this way."

Emma’s anger surged sharply. William didn’t need magic to feel it—her entire being bristled with it.

Kaizek inhaled deeply before repeating his account. "As I mentioned previously... when I reached the mine site, I saw William stabbing the young miss. After that, he transformed into a being I could barely recognize."

Vitori nodded, expression still cold. "On an average scale, what would his aether count have been at that moment?"

"Almost half of yours, sir," Kaizek replied without hesitation.

William tightened his jaw. The Warden of the East Wind was infamous for possessing the greatest aether reserves in the entire region. Half of that was an absurd measure for someone like him to reach.

Vitori continued, "And his aether nodes? You told me they were multiplying before your eyes."

"Yes, sir," Kaizek said. "His aether points were spreading throughout his body at an alarming rate."

That was the last straw.

Emma stepped forward, voice sharp and trembling. "So what, Father? Do you not know he was suffering? Someone cursed him! That is why his magic was suppressed for so long. I thought you, of all people, would understand that."

Her voice cracked with pain.

Vitori’s stern façade softened—just for a heartbeat. It clearly pained him to see her hurt, but he didn’t waver.

"Emma," he said quietly but firmly, "have you ever questioned why someone placed such a powerful curse on him? Or how a ’normal human’ could possess such refined aether control? Ask yourself why."

Emma’s eyes burned with frustration. "So what are you implying?"

Vitori finally spoke the truth he had been holding onto.

"I want him to undergo this trial," he said. "Only then will I trust him." He looked directly at William. "Under constant, unbearable pain, one’s true nature is revealed. If he is unchanged at the end of this trial, then I will know he is the right man for you."

He had been silent for weeks, but silence did not mean ignorance. He had been observing William closely. The boy’s rapid growth—his transformation—was far too unusual to ignore. Vitori needed certainty, and this was the method he had chosen.

William breathed out slowly. "So... if I go through this torture, or whatever you call it—will you give us your blessing?"

Vitori hesitated only briefly before nodding. "Yes. That will be enough."

William’s gaze moved toward the chair again—the runes, the chained restraints, the oppressive aura of pain embedded into its very frame. It was unmistakably crafted for suffering.

Still, he began unbuttoning his shirt. If this was what it took—

But Emma’s hand shot out, grabbing his with fierce urgency.

He turned, startled, meeting her blazing eyes.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, voice shaking.

William blinked. "Emma—"

"No!" she cut him off. "Why are you listening to his demand, Will?"

Vitori’s expression hardened. "What is the issue, Emma? If he is willing to undergo the assessment, why stop him?"

Emma turned sharply toward her father, her fury finally erupting.

"Father... I brought him here because I believed you would trust my judgment. That you would respect the man who has saved your daughter multiple times. Yet here you are—treating him like a criminal. Like someone who needs to prove he deserves to stand beside me."

Her voice wavered, but her stance remained unyielding. She intertwined her fingers with William’s, grounding herself.

"It doesn’t matter whether you accept our relationship or not," she declared, each word firm and unwavering. "Because I’ve already made my decision. We are leaving."

And nothing in her tone suggested she would ever back down.