In one of his earlier iterations, back when he was closely acquainted with the Saintess, she used to say something so often it became irritating to hear.

“The human mind is far more fragile than the body.”

Back then, Leon didn’t understand it. He had dismissed it as the kind of idealistic nonsense only someone raised inside a temple could repeat with a straight face.

To him, the body had always been the fragile part.

Anything from bones breaking to organs failing had left people bleeding, screaming, and dying.

That was fragility.

The mind, on the other hand, endured. It was a vast medium, capable of adapting and surviving no matter what horrors it was forced to face.

That was what he had believed.

Then the regressions piled up.

And somewhere along the way, Leon realized she had been right.

A person’s mind did not shatter loudly. It broke apart one quiet crack at a time.

It was in the way their smile came a second too late.

In the way their hands paused at a specific word.

In the way silence stretched just a little too long.

People liked to think madness looked dramatic, but most of the time, it looked like perfect composure.

It looked exactly like Duke Zorack Armathorne sitting across from him now—his expression calm, his posture immaculate, and his breath steady enough to fool anyone who had not lived long enough to know better.

But Leon had.

The moment he uttered the words ‘demonic energy’, the air in the room completely changed. It wasn't because of fear, but because of recognition.

It was there in the Duke’s eyes first. A sudden flicker. It was gone in less than a second, but it had been there.

Then Harold’s shoulders tightened ever so slightly. It was the kind of microscopic reaction only visible if one had spent entire lifetimes watching people lie.

And that was enough.

Truth was rarely found in words.

‘This confirms it.’

The Duke and Harold both knew.

The only question left was whether anyone else in the household did, but that didn't matter right now.

What Leon was doing at this moment hadn't been part of his original plan.

From the beginning, he knew he needed an alliance. That was one of the primary reasons he had come here. Whether the prideful Duke of Armathorne would agree had always been a variable. Considering how many times the Duke had rejected his formal requests through letters, it was only natural to expect a similar refusal today.

At first, Leon had considered gathering concrete evidence to force the Duke into an alliance, but that plan had collapsed the moment the Duke revoked his original acceptance letter. Now, he had no choice but to pivot.

There was no need to spend weeks gathering evidence when the answer was already sitting right in front of him.

All he needed was a confession.

Leon admitted to himself that he had been slightly agitated earlier when his re-offer was dismissed. This was a deal he absolutely needed to secure.

It was also why he had been willing to reveal information the Empire kept strictly hidden, hoping to build a measure of trust.

But now that the Duke had chosen a hostile stance, Leon abandoned that diplomatic approach entirely and aimed for something far more direct.

People rarely expected the truth to be thrown straight at their faces.

Leon leaned back in his leather chair, watching the silence settle like dust.

The Duke folded his hands neatly on the desk.

For several long seconds, no one spoke.

Then, Zorack laughed.

It wasn’t loud, but a clean sound, as if Leon had just told an unexpectedly amusing joke.

For a man who had been sitting like a corpse carved from marble, the sudden burst of levity was almost jarring.

He leaned back in his chair and rubbed lightly at his temple.

“Demonic energy, from my daughter?” he repeated with faint amusement. “I fear your imagination may be a little too active, Young Master Leon.”

He gestured lazily toward the butler.

“Perhaps spending too much time with swords has dulled your judgment. Even Harold looks concerned for you.”

Harold, suddenly dragged into the line of fire, gave the most painfully awkward smile Leon had ever seen.

Leon stared at both of them, unmoved and clearly unentertained, before letting out a sigh.

“You don’t have to pretend. I am fully aware of the demonic seed.”

At that, the room went down to a pin drop.

The Duke’s faint smile remained fixed for exactly two seconds before it slowly vanished.

He looked at Leon. And by look—he truly looked at him.

For the first time since Leon had entered the office, Duke Zorack realized the boy was being dead serious.

There was no probing or fishing for reactions. Leon already knew the ground truth.

The Duke’s voice lost all remaining warmth.

“How?”

Leon simply rested his chin against his hand.

“Were you lying about being an Aura Knight?”

A flicker of genuine surprise crossed the Duke's eyes.

“No… perhaps you possess divine powers?”

Leon blinked, then raised both hands with a small, lazy shake of his head.

“No, no.”

His tone was almost playful.

“Sadly, I am not blessed by divinity. I am entirely an Aura Knight. A very competent one, actually.” He smiled. “And I most definitely cannot sense demonic energy.”

Silence stretched.

The Duke’s dark-green eyes narrowed. “Then who—”

Leon tapped against the leather armrest once, cutting him off.

“My sources don’t matter. What matters is what comes next.”

He leaned forward, crossing his forearms over the desk.

“Let’s not waste time pretending this is a matter of morality.”

His gaze locked directly with the Duke’s.

“You wanted an Aura Knight by your daughter’s side because Aura cannot differentiate between energies. There would be no suspicion and holy interference involved in case something went wrong. Just a strong sword standing exactly where you place it—a very convenient and blind tool.”

Neither the Duke nor Harold spoke. There was no longer any need for denial.

Leon spread his hands.

“And that arrangement would be incredibly unfair to me.”

The Duke raised an eyebrow.

“If I’m going to be used for your benefit,” Leon said calmly, “then I expect benefits of my own. I do not mind being controlled, Duke Zorack, as long as it benefits both of us.”

The Duke studied him with severe intensity.

“Why are you going this far?”

Leon answered without a single second of hesitation. “Because as I’ve said earlier—I want an alliance. I would do anything to ensure the survival of my people.”

It was not a lie. This was his final regression. He had no room left for mistakes, and he had no intention of letting House Serpentine burn again.

He crossed one leg over the other. “Frankly, I do not care about your family's little secret. However, in the unfortunate case that you decide to betray our arrangement… I needed something to use as leverage.”

A small and harmless smile tugged at Leon's lips. “But of course, that only matters if you follow through on that decision. So perhaps the better option is simple.”

He leaned forward again, pressing the advantage.

“Trust me and let me become your person. And in return, I’ll help preserve your family's standing.”

The Duke’s eyes hardened into flint. “And if I do not wish to be honest?”

Leon smiled pleasantly.

“Then I’ll have to report this matter directly to the Imperial Court.”

Harold’s hand immediately dropped to the hilt of his sword.

The Duke’s voice turned entirely flat.

“Are you threatening me, boy?”

Leon’s smile only widened.

“We’re simply having a productive conversation.”

A dangerous silence followed.

Then, the Duke spoke, his voice dripping with lethal intent.

“And if I kill you right here?”

“Then please, go ahead.”

Harold’s fingers tightened on his weapon. The Duke’s stare sharpened to a razor edge.

Leon merely rested his elbow on the chair, completely unbothered.

“If I die here, my family will know, and House Serpentine will retaliate.”

The Duke said coldly, “I can simply claim that you attacked first.”

Leon nodded.

“Hm… That is true. But arguments like that only matter if I actually die.”

His smile thinned.

“Can you kill me?”

And in that split second, the room changed.

The atmosphere instantly froze as aura exploded from Leon like a colossal blade unsheathed.

It was heavy, violent, and so incredibly dense that the space itself seemed to physically warp. A cold and merciless bloodlust followed immediately behind it.

This wasn't the reckless and loud killing intent of a young noble trying to prove his strength. It came forward as the crushing pressure born from someone who had killed so many times that taking a life felt like a routine chore.

‘How can… someone so young possess this…?’

The Duke’s expression shattered. For the first time, a single drop of cold sweat slid down his forehead. Because this pressure was no illusion.

The raw power of a High Knight stood right before them.

A pinnacle of force that was equivalent to the strongest Holy Swordsmaster or Magic Swordmaster in the Empire of Lesselhia.

Perhaps it wasn't overwhelming when compared to the monsters who held multiple titles, but against Duke Zorack, the Fifth Holy Swordsmaster alone, it was more than enough.

Leon’s calm voice cut smoothly through the suffocating pressure.

“I may not be able to take on an entire dukedom by myself, but I can guarantee one thing.”

His eyes were completely still.

“You will not kill me here.”

He had not struggled through a hundred lifetimes just to die in an office. And he wouldn’t die until his goals were fulfilled.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, Leon let the heavy aura fade into nothingness, acting as if nothing had happened. He casually adjusted his cuffs.

“Think wisely, Duke,” his voice returned to its casual, polite cadence. “If I know about the Lady’s condition, then it’s only a matter of time before someone else does. In a situation like that… wouldn’t it be better to have someone fully capable standing beside you?”

He tilted his head slightly.

“Especially when it seems only you, Harold, and Lady Seraphina know the full truth. Adding one more person into that circle hardly changes the risk.”

His smile returned.

“Besides, you were already planning to control me by force if necessary. Would it not be better to have someone fully aware and cooperative rather than a puppet you have to constantly watch?”

Leon exhaled softly.

“I am even willing to agree to a blood contract.”

That statement made both men widen their eyes in genuine shock.

A Blood Contract.

It was a binding magical oath forged in blood with their very lives on the line.

To know that a High Knight of this caliber and somehow even… charismatic was offering it so casually was enough to thoroughly shake the Duke’s remaining composure.

Leon continued calmly. “The fact that you accepted a re-offer after an initial rejection proves you were desperate for a usable sword. This way, none of us suffer. Swallowing your pride is a small price to pay. You get what you want. And so do I.”

Duke Zorack watched him for a long time. So long that it felt suffocating. Then, finally, the older man let out a long sigh. It was a slow and tired sound.

“…If you already knew all of this,” the Duke said, his green eyes remaining fixed on Leon, “then why send a re-offer in the first place? Why not report me directly to the Imperial Court?”

Leon considered the question for a brief moment, and then he gave a shrug.

“Why would I throw away future benefits over something so trivial?”

Zorack’s eyebrow twitched at the word ‘trivial.’

Hiding a demonic seed was an act of high treason punishable by public execution and the complete erasure of an entire family legacy.

And here this boy was, calling it trivial.

“I had information, but not certainty. I could have been wrong. And if I was right, Lady Seraphina is clearly capable of suppressing her powers well enough to survive inside a dukedom filled with Holy Swordsmasters. Which means if I brought false charges, I would have been the one standing trial instead.”

Leon sighed lightly.

“And there is no guarantee someone on your side would not have quietly removed me before that trial even concluded.”

His tone remained light and almost joking, but internally, the memory was completely bitter.

In his previous iterations, his direct approaches had failed because Seraphina had dealt with him rather quickly. It had been so efficient that even now, thinking about it made the phantom pain in his throat itch.

People always assumed death was some grand and memorable event.

Most of the time, it was just highly inconvenient.

The Duke watched him closely.

“…And what if I told you I had the kind of influence where hands routinely slip within the Imperial Court?”

Leon’s expression did not change, but internally, a missing piece of the puzzle clicked perfectly into place.

‘So that was it.’

That beautifully explained his ninety-ninth iteration, where he had reported the matter directly to the authorities and still ended up dragged away as the accused.

Leon smiled, then reached slowly into his trench coat.

Harold moved immediately, his hand flying halfway up his hilt again, but Leon simply pulled out a small, dark and completely ordinary-looking glass bead.

Both Harold and the Duke locked their eyes onto it.

Leon rolled the bead slowly between his fingers.

“It’s a useful little thing,” his smile deepened. “A voice-recording tool. On the continent of Ashen, they call it an Auditio.”

It was tiny enough to hide easily and refined enough to avoid standard mana detection.

It was something he had used frequently back during one of his past lives, where he had spent several years working as a contract assassin instead of pretending to be a respectable noble.

Those had been highly educational times.

However, they were also highly expensive times.

Acquiring one in this current timeline had been an absolute chore. Mai had to do the dirty work of sneaking into Levyn’s private office to steal it from his personal collection. She had nagged Leon for three straight days afterward. It was a well-deserved lecture, but entirely worth the effort.

He had originally stolen it to collect evidence in the future, but he hadn't expected it to secure a full confession this quickly.

Leon placed the bead gently onto the heavy oak desk.

“I prefer to prepare for all possibilities.”

Silence reclaimed the room.

The Duke stared at the tiny object for several long seconds.

And then, suddenly and completely unexpectedly, he laughed out loud.

“Hah… haha…!”

It was a genuine laugh, Leon could tell.

It was neither controlled nor wrapped in mockery.

It was a real and unrestrained laugh.

The Duke leaned back and raised both hands, like a warrior surrendering to a superior commander.

“I accept defeat.”

Harold looked entirely confused, but Zorack only shook his head, still deeply amused.

“To think you are the exact same age as my daughter, and yet…”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

The Duke exhaled, giving Leon a long and profound look. There was something entirely new in his green eyes now.

It wasn't trust—not yet—but it was respect.

The kind of respect born when someone managed to wrap their fingers around your throat so neatly that all you could do was admire the flawless technique.

Leon had him exactly where he wanted him.

And remarkably, Zorack seemed to appreciate that level of competence.

Finally, the Duke turned his head. “Harold.”

The butler straightened. “Yes, my Lord?”

“Send word to House Serpentine. We will proceed with the formal alliance. And bring Seraphina here.”

Harold hesitated. “…My Lord?”

“Do not make me repeat myself.”

Harold bowed, still deeply uncertain, but before he could take a single step toward the door—

Knock, knock!

The heavy doors rattled under a sudden and sharp knocking.

“Papa! Are you in there?!”

Leon’s ears perked up instantly.

It was a voice so soft and familiar. One that he had heard far too many times across a hundred lifetimes to ever forget, even if he wanted to.

It was a voice that made his skin crawl.

The Duke sighed, his expression darkening.

“It seems the wench has arrived on her own.”

Leon’s attention shifted fully to the entrance.

The real problem was about to walk into the room.