One more time, I climbed on top of Jevella.
This time, the difference was that I was gripping her throat instead of her chest.
...That's a huge fucking difference.
Jevella herself didn't seem all that different from usual. She was still wearing that benevolent smile, as if she'd accept anything I did to her, and her pitiful appearance—which didn't suit a Zahav at all—was shining even in the darkness.
But those eyes. The difference was in her pale purple irises, reminiscent of an iris flower.
Eyes so empty it was as if they could peer into the depths of hell.
Back when I lived on Earth, someone told me this: the eyes are the windows to the soul. That's why you can see someone's true feelings by looking into their eyes.
I didn't agree back then. Or rather, I couldn't agree until after I died once.
But now it's different. After seeing the dregs of humanity in Calypso Territory and witnessing those who'd fallen to the very bottom at their hands...
I know people with eyes like that.
People who've grown so accustomed to the darkness that it's seeped into their eyes. People who can't see the light even when they're dragged into brightness.
...And yet, they writhe in fear of the darkness.
Just then, as if on cue, the clouds parted, and faint moonlight leaked in through the window slits.
The pale light illuminated my hand gripping Jevella's throat and teeth, as if urging me to snap it.
The smooth sensation of her skin transmitted through my fingers. Her slender neck bones would break easily with just a bit of pressure.
And Jevella knew that full well. She knew, and yet she'd offered her neck to me.
Because she knew I wouldn't do it... Or perhaps because she didn't care even if I did snap it.
People like this have always been the hardest to deal with, then and now.
"Damn it."
I immediately released her throat, which I'd been holding lightly, grabbed her collar instead, and yanked her upper body up.
"Are you insane, sis?"
"Hardly. I'm perfectly sane. I was merely stating the most efficient method based on the ecology of Zahavs I've observed all these years."
"What the hell does that...?"
Jevella, using my hand for support while half-floating, straightened her posture completely.
As I let go of her collar, she casually covered her exposed chest where a couple of buttons had been torn off, as if nothing had happened.
And then she spoke with her usual gaze.
"What else? I'm talking about what I've been through. Empirical deduction, you see."
"What you've been through?"
"Yes. You know how it is—people become far more helpless than you'd think when their throat is choked."
Jevella reached out to me with a hazy smile. Her slender fingertips brushed my nape.
"The terror of not being able to breathe as you've done since birth, the consciousness gradually fading, the mouth that can't even scream, only making gurgling sounds like a leaky bellows."
Her fingers lightly trailed from her collarbone up to her Adam's apple, then gently cupped my cheek.
"In the end, they use every ounce of strength to try to pry away the arm squeezing their neck. But even that isn't easy. Push with all your might, and it doesn't budge like a boulder; rake it with your nails, and all you get are a few scratches while your own nails break instead. So, do you know what happens last?"
The warmth from Jevella's palm felt slightly cool.
Zahav's bloodline ability was solar mana, wasn't it? It was as if this motion was meant to etch into me that she hadn't inherited even a shred of it.
Once she figured it'd sunk in deep enough, Jevella's lips curved into a graceful smile—the ideal smile of a noble lady that anyone would imagine.
"They beg. To the person holding their neck. They squeeze out the most pitiful expression and voice they can muster and say, 'I'll do anything, just spare my life.'"
"...Sis."
"But Enoch, I know you won't do that. See? You let me go just like that."
Now with a pleased expression, Jevella stroked my head. But I couldn't react to it. Something else was nagging at me.
"Before I came here. I mean, before Father died—what the hell happened?"
"Do you want to hear it?"
"You're dropping hints like this; it'd be harder not to be curious."
"Oh dear... I was a bit too blatant there, wasn't I? Seems like that 'properly raised lady' bit you mentioned stung a little."
With that, Jevella withdrew her hand from my head and sat up fully on the bed.
Still covering her torn-open chest with one hand, she stretched her other arm wide and yawned.
"Nngh..."
Her voice came out a touch lasciviously. The thin fabric clung to her body for a moment, outlining her curvaceous figure perfectly... but Jevella acted as if she didn't care—or perhaps on purpose—and casually tapped the lamp by the bedside.
Whoosh!
Some kind of magic tool, apparently—a small flame flickered to life, illuminating the room.
It was only candle-bright at best... but still far better than the moonlight filtering through the window.
Now that we could properly see each other's faces, the first thing Jevella did was point at the door.
"Before we talk, mind stepping out for a bit?"
"Pardon?"
"Well, don't you need to change clothes? If torn outfits are your kink, sis here can tough it out... but..."
"Don't run off while I'm gone."
I shook my head and stepped out briefly.
After cooling my head with the chilly corridor air for a moment, a small rustling came from inside the door.
Knock knock.
A light tap on the door, like a signal. I opened it and went back in to find Jevella standing there, fully dressed... though still in something thin.
"You said you were changing."
"Proper clothes take too long to put on. And anyway, we'll be doing worse later—this much is fine."
She shrugged and sat on the bed.
No, before that—I'm planning to get the hell out of this madhouse.
I shook my head again and sat beside her. She spoke in a playful tone.
"So, care for some tea?"
"Pass."
"I didn't prepare any anyway... Hmm. Your face is still stiff, so not the time for jokes, huh."
With a troubled look, Jevella crossed one leg, propped her chin on her hand, and gazed at me.
"Shall we get to the point, then? Let's see... Best to start from the beginning for this. Everyone has that earliest memory, right? The moment when recollections begin. For me, it's being locked in this room."
Jevella unraveled her past in a calm tone. No—even laced with a hint of amusement.
Born in House Zahav yet inheriting another family's bloodline ability.
Treated as a harbinger of the family's downfall, she'd faced discrimination and abuse in every conceivable way... and the casual tales that poured out were shockingly brutal.
Even though she was their own daughter and the legitimate heir—her life had been in peril more than once or twice.
She'd nearly been beaten to death, starved to the brink, and even collared like a dog to prevent escape.
Later, she'd been treated like a prize for the successor.
If House Zahav didn't have a resident healer and stockpiles of potent potions...
"And if not for awakening my bloodline ability, I'd probably be dead long ago, right?"
"..."
Jevella's bloodline ability—the one that made House Zahav regard her with suspicion and led Cain to realize the family's decline—was a mental healing power.
"I named it Clarity. Seems inherited from my maternal line, but it's a skipped generation or something—hard to pinpoint the exact family."
"Sis."
That's right. Jevella had somehow held her crumbling mind together using her own ability and endured.
Endured and endured until finally, Cain and all the other siblings were dead, leaving just this moment.
"Oh dear, was that too dark? It's like a family secret, but don't take it too hard."
"How could I not?"
My eyes narrowed involuntarily. But Jevella, still serene, gently massaged my furrowed brow.
As if trying to smooth out the wrinkles by pressing them flat.
"You won't do that, Enoch."
"Well..."
"I've watched you these past few days, however short. And now I know. Enoch, my little brother. You... no, only you are a true Zahav. Like the ancestors I read about in childhood tales—standing fearless against strong foes, protecting the weak and insignificant. A true powerhouse worthy of respect."
"..."
"Yes. That's right. Not just me—Father, the other siblings too. None of them were true Zahavs. Only you, Enoch."
Heavy.
Both Jevella's past and the expectations she placed on me were unbearably heavy.
To the point where I felt anxious imagining what might've happened if I'd successfully fled or if they'd discovered I'm not truly of Zahav blood.
"Well, my story's done. Now I want to hear yours, Enoch. How'd you end up in your big sis's room?"
"Ah."
Perfect timing. Time to set things straight and temper those excessive expectations.
For my sake, and hers.
"You were honest with me, so I'll be honest too."
"Mhm. Go ahead—I'll hear it all. Word is, since joining House Zahav, you haven't bedded many women, so maybe you couldn't hold back any longer...?"
"Truth is, I was running away because I didn't want to become patriarch."
"...Haha. What a lie."
"It's true. If this gem hadn't suddenly teleported me here midway, I'd be outside the castle by now."
"Gem? What are you... Eh?"
Jevella peered into the gem pouch I handed her and went blank-faced.
Good. Ride this momentum and show her the most irresponsible side possible.
"Honestly, I'm not interested in a hassle like patriarch. Too much work, and it's ridiculously dangerous."
"So... you want the privileges without the responsibility?"
"Exactly!"
A declaration of perfect scoundrel-hood that anyone would recognize. I inwardly nodded in satisfaction... but
Jevella, for her part, sighed in relief as if a weight had lifted.
"Phew. Is that all?"
"Huh?"
"Don't worry. Every Zahav's been like that."
"...?"
"There's people handling the actual work anyway. Just stamp some documents now and then, fight when something like that dungeon outbreak happens last time—that's plenty to fulfill the patriarch role."
"Ah."
"What was I thinking... Worrying over something so cute?"
"..."
I'm dizzy.
This damn house. Not a shred of sanity in it