CHAPTER 159: CHAPTER 159 | SEARCHING FOR ANSWERS

Akavi’s eyes widened for a moment, clearly taken off guard by the sudden burst of emotion that slipped from Jinn. She wasn’t used to seeing him lose even a shred of control, not in tone or posture, so the reaction made something inside her flicker.

And almost instantly, that flicker twisted into something sly—her golden eyes glistening with a strange excitement, her lips curling into a smirk that revealed more than she meant to hide.

Whether she was happy to finally get a raw reaction out of him or thrilled at the idea that she could twist this moment into a tool to tighten her hold over him... even Jinn couldn’t tell.

But the look she gave made it obvious she saw an opening, a weak point she could take advantage of.

"I could give this to you right now... but that won’t be fun at all, right?" Akavi purred, her voice filled with that teasing cruelty she always carried.

Jinn released her arm sharply, not because he trusted her but because he already knew the next part. He already expected her to drag this out, to milk his worry and use it for her own amusement or gain.

"Spit it out," he said, his voice heavy with irritation, shoulders stiff as he glared straight at her.

"I’m tired of your games. Say what you want or what you want to be done."

"Nothing complicated," Akavi replied with a growing smirk, lifting the parchment between her fingers and waving it slowly, almost lazily, like she was dangling bait in front of a starving animal. Her movements were slow enough to antagonize, each sway of the parchment reminding Jinn that she held something he desperately needed.

Finally, she said it.

"I would like you to be my partner at this coming Royal Assembly."

"Done," Jinn answered instantly, without hesitation or any sign of struggle. His brows lowered, his voice firm and final, making it clear he wasn’t playing around. He wasn’t negotiating. He was agreeing only to get what she promised.

"Fantastic!" Akavi chirped with a bright, almost childish excitement.

She then stepped closer and extended her hand, letting the parchment slide down from her fingers toward him like it was some precious treasure she was granting out of goodwill.

Jinn didn’t move at first.

He stared at her eyes—those gleaming golden irises that watched him with satisfaction, triumph, and something disturbingly playful.

Only after a drawn-out breath did he finally reach forward, his hand closing around the parchment and pulling it from her grasp, knowing well that whatever was written inside could change everything for him... or break him even further.

Jinn stared at the parchment in his hands for several long seconds, his fingers brushing over its rough texture as if the uneven surface itself carried the weight of whatever truth was written inside.

He stayed still, almost frozen, before finally clicking open the seal and letting the parchment unfurl in a slow, heavy motion.

The soft crackle of old fibers echoed faintly in the lavish room. His lone eye moved fast, scanning line after line, his breathing slightly tightening as he absorbed every sentence without skipping a single word.

His eye widened just a little—small enough that anyone else would miss it, but not small enough to hide the shock building quietly inside him.

He read through every paragraph twice, letting the meaning settle deep, letting the implications claw at the back of his mind.

"Is this... is this true?" Jinn finally spoke, his voice much lower than before, the calm tone cracked with something he rarely showed—hope mixed with dread.

He folded the parchment tightly, as if holding it together would somehow hold the truth together too, before slipping it inside his cloak.

Akavi crossed her arms lightly, her confidence radiating off her in waves.

"Would you like to personally call one of the Wraiths I ordered it from?" she asked, her voice smooth and almost smug, as if saying the word Wraiths was enough to erase any question about the parchment’s authenticity.

Jinn narrowed his eye at her.

Mentioning the Wraiths—the silent, loyal shadows of Zerafhon, spies and assassins who only served royalty—was not something anyone threw around lightly.

Every soldier, every officer, anyone who lived under the empire’s banner knew their reputation. If they were involved, then the information rarely turned out false.

"Very well," Jinn muttered at last, though his voice held a tightly restrained edge.

The words written inside still churned in his mind, refusing to settle.

Deep down, doubt still lingered—Akavi was a noble after all, and nobles always bent truth if it suited their games.

But he wasn’t without his own connections.

He wasn’t some lost soldier with no options or reach.

Jinn knew exactly who he could turn to for confirmation, who would know the truth without question.

Troy... or Venedix.

A Battlemaster and a protege of House Nythrael.

People with high ranks and renown such as them always had eyes everywhere, sending spies, assassins, and agents into foreign lands to learn the moves of other empires long before any war banners were raised.

If anyone could confirm whether what he read was real—or nothing but bait—it would be them.

And so, there was no time left to waste.

Jinn moved with a sharp purpose, crossing the room in steady strides as he made his way back toward the table where he had placed his sword earlier.

He reached for Fangeryth, his fingers brushing the familiar hilt, and with a practiced, almost automatic motion, strapped the blade securely along the side of his sword belt. The weight of it settled against his body like an anchor pulling him forward.

Without hesitating or giving Akavi another glance, he walked toward the door with a stiff determination, every step showing how little patience he had left for her games.

"Where are you going? You should rest," Akavi’s voice echoed behind him, sharp but also strangely soft, as if she expected her words alone to pull him back.

But Jinn didn’t even stop to look at her.

"I’m going somewhere," he replied, his voice flat, final, and without any room for argument.

He stepped out the door and into the hallway they had walked through earlier, not caring to hear any of Akavi’s replies or attempts to lure him into another conversation.

His boots thudded quietly against the floor as he moved, his lone eye drifting briefly toward Rina’s door—just a passing glance—before he continued forward.

He descended the stairs, his pace steady but urgent, before exiting through the main doors of the household and into the open night.

"Haagh... such a hard-to-get man..." Akavi breathed out, dragging her fingers through her hair in a slow motion as she realized Jinn was already far out of reach.

For a brief moment she pouted, but soon her expression shifted, sharpening, her golden eyes turning colder as she glanced toward the side.

"Zynthrel."

The moment her voice left her lips, shadows began to twist and gather near the wall—dark, swirling mists of dark eidra forming into a creeping patch of black fog.

A figure emerged from it, appearing as if pulled straight out of the darkness itself.

She knelt before Akavi with her head bowed, her body clad in light black armor that hugged her frame, two blades glinting faintly at both sides of her hips.

Even the air around her felt heavier, as if her presence itself dampened the light.

"Follow him," Akavi ordered, her tone smooth yet commanding.

"At once, my lady," the woman answered without hesitation.

She gave a sharp nod before dissolving once again into drifting shadows, disappearing exactly the way she had appeared—silent, quick, and leaving behind no trace of her presence.

Silence embraced the room after her departure.

Akavi walked calmly toward a nearby chair before lowering herself onto it with a slow, elegant motion.

The very same chair Jinn just sat on not too long ago.

She traced her fingers along the carved frame as if lost in thought, then lazily tilted her head to the side, letting it rest against the cushioned surface.

She inhaled deeply, almost theatrically, as if trying to capture whatever faint scent Jinn might have left behind in the air.

Her exhale was long and exaggerated, and she lifted one hand to inspect her nails with a bored expression.

"Soon everything will be in my grasp... including you, my Jinn," she whispered, her tone dropping into something cold, serious, a quiet hunger behind every word. Her fingers curled into a tight fist, the sound of her knuckles cracking faintly in the still air.

The day drifted by in a slow, steady rhythm until several hours had quietly slipped past, the once-bright sky beginning its gentle fade into evening colors.

The sun hovered low now, its light stretching long shadows across the stone roads as the capital city shifted into that calm moment between day and night.

Yet even during the day, the coldness of the planet crept in from every direction, slipping through the air like a living thing that refused to let anyone forget where they stood.

It was the kind of cold that didn’t just bite the skin—it sank deeper, crawling into the bones until it felt almost personal, almost cruel.

And for Jinn, that cold was more than weather.

It was a reminder, sharp and unforgiving, of the first time he had ever stepped into this city as nothing more than a slave.

Jinn moved through the outskirts with a focused stride, his cloak brushing lightly against his legs while he made his way toward the main streets of Juggernot.

The cold air brushed past his face as he walked, but he barely noticed. His thoughts were fixed inward, locked on the parchment hidden beneath his cloak and the questions that refused to settle inside his mind.

Yet he didn’t slow down—if anything, the growing dusk only made him walk faster, determined to reach the people who could give him answers he desperately needed.