CHAPTER 215: 214. CONDITIONS

The clink of metal echoed through the hollow estate.

Mr. Martinsville clutched a piece of cloth tightly in his right hand as he stepped into his secret chamber. The heavy red door shut behind him with a muted thud, followed by the cold rattle of keys locking him inside.

He paused, his eyes sweeping across the expansive room. A proud smile crept across his face.

Lining both sides of the chamber were towering glass cylinders, their transparent walls fogged with condensation. Suspended in murky green liquid, the figures inside floated in curled positions—too small to be adults, yet too grotesque to be called children. Their limbs stretched or shrunk unnaturally. Some had misshapen, twitching faces while the others had none at all. A few bore slits where mouths should be, and extra eyelids that fluttered in restless sleep.

Martinsville brought the navy t-shirt in his hand to his nose, inhaling deeply. A sigh of contentment escaped him.

The water inside the tanks bubbled occasionally—bloops that rose lazily and vanished just before breaking the surface.

He moved slowly to one particular cylinder.

This was his favorite.

The creature inside stirred as if sensing his presence. It pressed a webbed hand against the glass.

Martinsville’s eyes softened.

"Soon, my boy," he whispered. "We can’t have anyone else taking your place now, can we? You wanted power. They laughed at you, called you weak. Said your body was... unworthy."

He placed his palm against the glass, mirroring the creature’s gesture.

"But I’ve given you more than flesh this time. I’ve given you freedom."

The creature exhaled a stream of bubbles. Martinsville watched them rise, then turned and began inspecting the other tanks, humming a strange tune under his breath. He walked to the far end of the chamber, where faded magic circles glowed faintly on the wall. Sitting cross-legged among the flickering candlelight, he began to hum a low, melodic ritual.

****

Meanwhile, at the Veyna Drisari Estate...

"Wow..." Asher muttered, staring up at the pristine black walls of the massive estate. Its architecture was intimidating but breathtaking—every curve and line oozed elegance and wealth.

The paved road leading up to the mansion was flanked by perfectly trimmed lawns, colorful flowerbeds, and trees sculpted into shapes he didn’t even know were possible. Gardeners, uniformed and efficient, worked quietly, tending to the grounds like it was a sacred temple.

Even more luxurious than the Duke’s estate... or even Liloth’s mansion, he thought.

Freya led the way, confident and casual, until they reached a large double glass door. A lone female guard stood at its entrance, a katana sheathed at her hip. She wore simple trousers and a sleeveless top, her posture relaxed but alert.

She wasn’t armored like a knight—more like a samurai from old legend. And she was stunning.

The guard bowed slightly. "Welcome, Miss Freya."

Freya waved it off with a laugh. "Told you to drop the formalities already! Anyway—is Veyna in?"

"She’s in the boutique. Serving customers."

"Alright, coolies!" Freya winked as she pushed open the doors, Asher stepping in behind her.

The front hall resembled an art gallery, with fine sketches and paintings framed along the walls. The polished tile beneath them was so reflective it felt like walking on water.

Asher tried not to gape.

She’s seriously operating all this from her house?

Freya led him through another glass door and entered the boutique.

Asher nearly froze. It was freaking huuge!!!. Inside were aisles of high-end cosmetics, elegant soaps, moisturizers, perfumes, and even cases of shimmering jewelry. There were also female nobles, finely dressed who were browsing through the displays.

And then, there was Veyna Drisari, draped in an elegant black dress that reached the floor, decorated with subtle rose patterns. Black gloves covered her hands, and a sheer veil hung from her matching hat, shadowing her face.

Freya grinned. "Well, someone’s busy today."

Veyna didn’t even turn.

"You barge in without an appointment. Your manners are as nonexistent as ever," she said, voice low and unreadable.

"And you’re keeping up with your grumpiness!" Freya said before turning to the other women with a smile. "Hey ladies!"

The noblewomen browsing the store gave polite nods to Freya, then glanced at Asher.

He gave a small wave. "Good evening, ladies."

Silence.

A few scoffed. One clicked her tongue. A mere male, unbowed, speaking to nobles as equals? Disgraceful.

Asher felt the weight of their disdain but said nothing. He turned toward Veyna.

"The Principal said you wanted to see me. Think you can spare five minutes away from your fancy soaps?"

One woman nearly dropped her perfume bottle as she gasped. How dare he speak so casually to people far above his league?

Veyna, still calm, still unreadable, didn’t even glance his way.

"Freya. Take the brat to my office. I’ll finish here first."

Without hesitation, Freya grabbed Asher’s hand and led him away.

The estate was just as immaculate inside with maids scrubbing, polishing, and tidying everything. Finally, Asher noted, a place that employs women too. The first sign of gender equality he’d seen since reincarnating.

The office was spacious, absurdly so for one person and richly decorated. They waited.

Ten minutes later, the door creaked open, and Veyna entered gracefully, sitting behind her desk like a queen on her throne.

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her gloved hands.

"Oh.... the kid who won the tournament."

Asher straightened. "I have a name, ma’am. I’m—"

"I don’t care," she interrupted, tone flat. "I don’t waste time learning names of people who don’t matter."

His brow twitched. She’s got a mouth on her.

He kept his cool. "Alright then. Let’s cut to it. What do you want from me?"

Veyna’s eyes narrowed, calculating.

"I’m leaving on a business trip. Two days. I have a sister who’s very delicate, very important. I want you to protect her. And the estate."

Asher blinked. "Your sister and your entire estate? Bit much, don’t you think?"

"If it’s too much, say so. I’ll find someone else. You’re irrelevant, remember?"

He leaned forward, smirking. "Didn’t say I couldn’t. Just saying it sounds like a hell of a lot. But fine. Since I came here to ask you something too... let’s call it even."

She tilted her head. "What do you want?"

"Platinum coins," he said bluntly. "Ten for now. More later."

Veyna’s expression didn’t change, but her mind raced. Ten? Is he rich? A normal person can’t afford that much.

"What are the conditions?" she asked.

"No. You set the conditions. I’ll make the adjustments."

She paused.

He doesn’t want to make the first move. Smart.

"Very well. The only reason you’re here in the first place is to prove you’re competent. If you succeed, I’ll write a letter of recommendation to the Royal Bank. With that, you can access Platinum coins whenever you want."

Her voice dropped, low and cold.

"But if you fail... I’ll pull my sponsorship from the academy. And your merchant ID will be revoked."

Asher’s throat tightened. That ID was his future. And her condition felt like a trap to drag him down, a rising merchant. Still, he gave a soft chuckle.

"I’ll do it."

Veyna smiled, barely behind the black net over her face.

"Smug little thing, aren’t you? Your duty begins tomorrow. You’ll skip the academy for two days. Freya is our witness for our conversation. Now go."

Asher stood, brushing invisible dust off his pants.

"Fine. Let’s go, Freya."

TBC