Journey to Become the Zenith

A Room Filled with Hidden Blades

The moment Lane stepped inside the mansion, the air changed.

Not visibly.

Not in any obvious way.

But she felt it.

A shift.

Subtle.

Controlled.

Dangerous.

The door closed behind her with a quiet, deliberate sound that echoed just a little too long in the silent hall. The faint scent of old wood and metal lingered in the air—clean, but not warm. This wasn’t a home.

It was a den.

Every step she took forward was measured, but not slow. Her posture remained relaxed, shoulders loose, expression calm. But beneath that—

Her senses spread outward.

Listening.

Feeling.

Measuring.

The floor beneath her boots was polished, but she could tell it had been repaired more than once. The walls carried paintings—landscapes, portraits, old battles—but something about them felt... off.

Too aligned.

Too evenly spaced.

Her eyes flickered once.

Not decoration.

Cover.

The butler walked ahead of her, his steps steady, his back straight. He didn’t speak, and neither did she.

But the silence between them wasn’t empty.

It was watching.

Testing.

Lane’s gaze shifted slightly as they passed a narrow corridor.

There—

A faint shift in breath.

Almost inaudible.

Someone hidden behind the wall.

Another presence above.

Light.

Controlled.

Her lips didn’t move, but a quiet thought crossed her mind.

Five... no... six.

Her eyes lowered for just a fraction of a second.

And more below.

She didn’t react.

Didn’t expose that she had noticed.

Instead—

She walked as if she saw nothing.

As if she was just another visitor stepping into a fallen noble’s home.

But inside—

Every detail was being recorded.

Every threat marked.

Every exit mapped.

...Good.

A faint, almost invisible satisfaction passed through her.

At least they’re not completely broken.

Lara who followed the butler inside the mansion was now face to face with the supposed head of the family.

The room they entered was wide, but not extravagant.

A long table sat between them.

Simple.

Functional.

No unnecessary luxury.

The woman sitting across from her...

Was not what Lane expected.

Ramona Redcliffe.

Young.

Mid-twenties at most.

Her green hair fell over her shoulders, slightly messy—not from neglect, but from someone who didn’t care about appearances anymore. Her purple eyes were sharp, but there was something behind them.

Fatigue.

Burden.

A weight that didn’t belong on someone her age.

And yet—

She held herself upright.

Composed.

Unyielding.

Still...

Lane noticed it instantly.

Her presence—

Was weak.

Not in will.

Not in mind.

But in power.

Ramona Redcliffe was a symbol of how far the Redcliffe family had fallen.

Once—

They led armies.

Now—

Their leader barely carried the weight of a warrior.

Lane sat down across from her without waiting to be invited.

The chair creaked slightly beneath her.

The butler stood beside Ramona.

Silent.

Still.

But ready.

Lane’s gaze shifted slightly.

There were three men hiding behind each picture on the wall.

Their breathing was controlled—but not perfect.

She could practically hear their bowstrings tighten.

And beneath her—

Eight more.

Directly under the floor.

Positioned precisely under her seat.

...So if things go wrong...

Her fingers rested lightly on her thigh.

They plan to skewer me from below and above.

Her lips almost curved.

Bold.

”Good day, Lady Lane.”

Ramona spoke first.

Her voice was calm, but cautious.

”Can I ask... why is the rising star of the adventurer guild looking for someone like me?”

Her eyes didn’t leave Lane’s face.

Watching.

Measuring.

Trying to read something.

Anything.

Lane didn’t look away.

Her expression remained perfectly still.

”I am here on behalf of my party leader, Victor.”

A slight pause.

”He wishes to make a deal with you.”

Her tone didn’t change.

”More specifically... with the fallen nobles in the city.”

The room grew quieter.

Even the hidden ones—

Focused.

Ramona’s fingers tapped lightly against the armrest of her chair.

Once.

Twice.

Then stopped.

”So...”

She leaned forward slightly.

”What kind of deal do you wish to make?”

Lane reached into her coat and pulled out the folded list.

Victor’s handwriting.

Clean.

Precise.

She didn’t rush.

Didn’t hesitate.

She unfolded it calmly.

Then spoke.

”Victor wants to offer you a chance for revenge.”

The words landed.

Heavy.

Sharp.

The air tightened.

”He says if you join and work under him... he could help your family regain the honor they lost.”

Ramona’s eyes flickered.

Just slightly.

Lane continued.

”And if you want... he could also help you dispose of the first prince that made your family into a scapegoat... which led to your fall from grace.”

The moment those words left her mouth—

Everything changed.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

Bloodlust.

Raw.

Unfiltered.

It pressed against her from all directions.

From behind the walls.

From above.

From below.

Even the butler—

His stance shifted slightly.

Ready.

Lane felt it.

Every bit of it.

Her body reacted instinctively.

Her muscles tightened.

Her breathing slowed.

For a brief moment—

She almost moved.

Almost attacked.

That was how she was trained.

Kill before being killed.

But—

She stopped.

Held it back.

Forced it down.

And waited.

”Victor is also offering a steady income... if you work under him.”

Her voice remained steady.

Unshaken.

”So what do you say?”

Silence.

Heavy.

Suffocating.

Ramona’s expression darkened.

Not explosively.

But slowly.

Like a shadow creeping across her face.

When she spoke—

Her voice had changed.

Lower.

Sharper.

”Lane...”

She leaned back slightly.

”Do you really think... we, the Redcliffes...”

A faint, bitter smile appeared.

”Will allow a young nobody adventurer... to have us serve under him?”

Her fingers tightened slightly against the armrest.

”We may hate the first prince.”

Her voice trembled—just for a second.

”We may have lost all our honor...”

Her eyes sharpened again.

”But we have not lost our pride.”

The hidden killers around the room—

Tensed further.

Then she continued.

”And even if we do consider your offer...”

Her gaze locked onto Lane’s.

”How do you expect us to believe that you and your party leader could actually do what you promised?”

A pause.

Her voice dropped.

”Of course you can’t.”

She waved her hand lightly.

”This talk is over.”

Her tone turned cold.

”You may leave.”

The dismissal was clear.

Final.

Absolute.

But—

Lane didn’t move.

Not even slightly.

The room held its breath.

Seconds passed.

Then—

Lane spoke.

Calm.

Flat.

Unmoved.

”Then please tell me...”

Her eyes met Ramona’s directly.

”What is it that you want?”