CHAPTER 59: BURIAL PREPARATIONS.

Caleb dropped his phone after finishing the call with Herald.

They had both checked into a nearby hotel—it was already late into the night.

There was no time to search for anything luxurious, and truthfully, Caleb didn’t care in the slightest.

Not that he ever did before.

He only started living lavishly after the system threw unimaginable wealth at his feet.

And that brought up a brief thought—people often criticized how the rich lived. But was it truly because their lifestyle was wrong? Or was it just the frustration of never having the chance to live like that themselves?

In the end, none of it mattered right now.

Because tonight—no, in this very moment—all Caleb wanted was to silence the storm brewing in his chest.

He didn’t need comfort or distraction.

What he needed was time to think.

Time to decide his next move.

Time to recover from the loss.

As for Naya, she hadn’t voiced a single complaint about the modest hotel either.

She understood.

Right now, luxury wasn’t important. Healing was.

---

Caleb was her priority now.

The pain he was carrying—the grief, the anger—Naya wanted to be there for all of it. Even she felt a sense of loss... and guilt.

Caleb walked back to the bed and sat down. The mattress let out a faint squeak beneath his weight.

He cupped his face in his hands, silent.

Naya moved closer and sat beside him.

"So... what now?" she asked softly.

Caleb drew in a deep breath.

"First, we give her a proper burial. Something worthy of her," he said, his voice cold and steady. "After that... we wait for X."

He didn’t need to say anything more.

Naya understood exactly what he meant.

Run from X?

No—that wasn’t part of Caleb’s path anymore.

She knew how sharp his mind was, how calculated his decisions could be.

He wasn’t running.

He was hunting.

And deep down, even she felt a chill at the thought of what he might do next.

One thing was clear—whatever came, X was going to feel it. Hard.

She could see it in Caleb’s eyes—those once vibrant green eyes now cold and devoid of warmth.

There was no hesitation.

No mercy.

Only resolve.

------

Meanwhile, while Caleb and Naya were lost in their quiet moment at the hotel...

Across the city, inside a massive white mansion crowned with a grand chandelier at its center, an entirely different atmosphere played out.

The house was the very definition of luxury. Everything—from the polished marble floors to the ornate gold-accented walls—spoke of wealth and extravagance. Elegant furniture lined the vast spaces, and priceless paintings adorned every corner. The walls shimmered under the glow of recessed lights, while automated AI doors responded at the slightest command.

This wasn’t just a house—it was a palace built for indulgence.

And there was only one man who lived here.

A man who spent money without a second thought... so long as he got what he wanted.

For him, money was never the issue.

In his world, wealth flowed like water—or so he believed.

Nate stood near the bar, pouring himself a glass of red Liber Pater 2018 Vintage wine. The rich aroma of the Bordeaux grapes filled the room.

But Nate didn’t give a damn about the scent.

Not now.

He grabbed the glass and downed the wine in one gulp, his jaw tense.

Slamming the empty glass onto the counter, he nearly shattered it.

"That stupid old man!" he growled, eyes burning with rage.

Behind him, a woman quietly hung up the telephone and turned.

"Enough with the ranting already," she muttered, irritation creeping into her voice.

She sauntered toward him with deliberate grace, her black gown hugging her figure. A long slit on each side revealed her smooth thighs with every step.

"You know... I just got some bad news," she said, her tone oddly playful—completely at odds with the seriousness of her words.

Despite the woman’s arrogance—and the way she practically shouted at him—something about her words soothed Nate.

"Bad news?" he asked, his voice suddenly calm.

It was as if all the anger that had consumed him moments ago had vanished. His fury melted into curiosity, and now, all his attention was on her.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away.

He couldn’t turn his head, couldn’t think of anything else.

Nate was completely entranced—like he stood before the reincarnation of Aphrodite herself.

The woman smirked, her tone still teasing. "Your secretary called. Told me my friend died."

She paused.

"Your sister."

The words came out lightly, almost like a joke. There was no sorrow in her voice—only amusement.

Nate blinked, then let out a short breath, as though snapping out of a trance. "Oh. That’s good news, actually. One less rival."

He poured himself another glass of wine, his tone disturbingly casual.

The woman laughed, clearly enjoying the heartlessness in his response. "That’s harsh... she was your sister."

She wrapped her arms around him from behind, resting her cheek against his back.

"But... you’re not wrong."

"It means less competition for you, my dear," she said with a coy smile. "Let’s rise to the top and take what’s rightfully ours... But first, there’s a funeral to attend. I’m sure my sister would be very interested in coming along."

Nate nodded, almost dazed. "Yes... we’ll go to the burial."

She tightened her embrace, her chin gently resting against his back. Her eyes shimmered with an eerie, otherworldly glow.

"Yes, yes... good boy," she cooed softly. "We’ll attend the funeral... and Mommy will give you a reward for behaving so well."

Her eyes glowed even brighter—blazing now—and then, she saw it.

A vision unfolded before her, vivid and complete: the auction hall, the crowd, the chaos.

She saw Julia—alive—standing there.

The blood oath card being presented.

She saw Caleb.

She saw Naya.

She saw everything.

A small, dark smile curled across her lips.

"So... that’s how Julia met her end. What a shame," she murmured. "But how fascinating... another target for X."