Conrad watched the boy carefully. Kyon had been silent for a full minute now, and in a battle of patience, silence was often the loudest answer.

  A minute was enough time to do many things—enough to strike down an enemy, to turn an advantage into a loss, or to change the course of a war. But the boy simply stood there, thinking. Hesitating.

  Conrad resisted the urge to sigh. He had lived long enough to know what this meant. Hesitation was the mind’s way of wrestling with itself. It meant Kyon hadn’t made up his mind, or worse, that he was still grasping at something uncertain, searching for an answer that he hadn’t yet reached. A dangerous position to be in, but one that revealed far more than words ever could.

  He checked his watch. One minute, ten seconds.

  Young people were usually so impulsive, so predictable in their foolish eagerness to throw themselves into the unknown. The one called Lawrence was a prime example—his impatience bled through every movement. He kept shifting his weight, the barely restrained energy rippling through his stance. If Conrad lifted a single finger, he had no doubt that Lawrence would attack first and think later. It was almost amusing. Almost.

  The other Flux Users were more measured, but not as unreadable as they believed themselves to be. Their discipline showed in their stillness, but their eyes… the eyes always gave them away. The subtle glances, the way their gazes flickered ever so slightly toward each other, the near-imperceptible tightening of their fingers—signals exchanged beneath the surface. They were communicating. Deciding something.

  It didn’t matter. Conrad had already calculated every path this encounter could take.

  He let his gaze slide back to Kyon, but his mind wandered to another consideration. Elijah.

  Now, there was a puzzle with missing pieces.

  It was easy to label the boy as an enemy. In truth, Conrad didn’t trust any turned vampire, especially not one who had delusions of grandeur. Elijah fancied himself the King of this city, but a king was more than a man with ambition—he needed bloodline, history, purpose. Elijah had none of those things. He wasn’t noble enough to be a prince, let alone a ruler. Yet he still clung to this city as if it belonged to him, as if he had built it with his own two hands.

  Conrad found it pitiful.

  And yet…

  Elijah was not reckless. That was what made him dangerous. His attachment to this city meant he would not destroy it. He would not risk burning his own home to the ground unless he saw no other choice. It was the one thing that stayed his hand.

  And as for Conrad himself…

  He exhaled softly, shifting his weight. The mere thought of killing a PureBlood was enough to warrant death, let alone attempting it. Not even Elijah would be foolish enough to try. Or so one would assume.

  Power made men ambitious. Ambition made men irrational.

  Conrad was old enough to know that the most dangerous enemies were not the ones who hated you—but the ones who thought they could replace you.

  He glanced back at Kyon.

  What was the boy thinking? He was a mystery even now, and that alone was irritating. His silence wasn’t arrogance; Conrad would have seen through that in an instant. No, it was something else. He was weighing something heavy.

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  Perhaps he should push him. A slight shift in pressure. A nudge in the right direction.

  “I wonder,” Conrad mused aloud, his voice smooth, deliberate. “Are you searching for the right answer, Kyon? Or merely the answer you think will let you leave here alive?”

  A small test. See how he reacts.

  Lawrence stiffened at the words, his posture screaming that he was ready to jump in at any moment. The other Flux Users remained still, their eyes sharpening, but none of them spoke.

  Kyon, however, did not flinch.

  Interesting.

  The silence stretched, thick with tension, but Conrad did not mind waiting. He had all the time in the world. Let the boy decide. Let him think this through. Let him struggle with the weight of his own choices.

  Because in the end, there were only ever two outcomes.

  One either bowed… or they broke.

  And yet, the boy still hadn’t spoken.

  Conrad studied him, his interest piqued despite himself. He had met many who were older, men who had seen decades, even centuries pass—yet they had been far more foolish than this one. Kyon, despite his youth, was not impulsive in the way others his age often were. There was a weight to his silence, a deliberation that suggested he was considering every angle before he answered.

  Rare.

  And yet, it was that same rare quality that made his earlier actions all the more baffling. He had charged up here when he could have simply left the hotel, disappearing into the night without confrontation. Instead, he had come with the apparent belief that he could intimidate Conrad into backing down.

  The sheer absurdity of it almost made him laugh.

  Intimidate him?

  A PureBlood.

  Kyon had known nothing about his opponent, nothing about what Conrad was capable of, and yet he had still come. That was what made it foolish. Not bravery. Not confidence. Just the reckless hope that force of will alone would be enough to shift the tides.

  But hope was not a weapon.

  Nevertheless, Conrad held the advantage.

  He did not hold all the cards, but he held enough.

  Kyon’s options were limited. He could submit—though Conrad doubted he would. He could attempt to convince his human allies to take a stand against him, though that, too, was unlikely to bear fruit.

  The real problem was the Flux Grandmaster.

  A genuine threat.

  If they fought, it would not be an easy battle. It could end in mutual destruction, something Conrad would rather avoid. Yet the Grandmaster was not just an obstacle for him—he was an obstacle for Kyon as well.

  The boy was strong, yes, but he did not yet understand the full extent of his own nature. The Daywalker bloodline was… unusual. Strange. An anomaly even among vampires. He could harness their power, but he was not fully one of them. That made him valuable. Dangerous. Unpredictable.

  And yet, for all his potential, was he truly worth it?

  Would the Grandmaster risk everything for him?

  Conrad doubted it.

  The Mualim.

  A name soaked in blood, whispered in the darkest corners of history. Protectors of humanity, sworn enemies of vampires. Their hatred for anything not human was deeply ingrained, an unwavering prejudice that had spanned generations.

  This time, however, it worked in Conrad’s favor.

  The Grandmaster, like many before him, loved life too much.

  He would not throw it away for a boy he did not fully understand.

  And in that, Kyon stood alone.

  Conrad let the silence stretch a little longer, testing its weight.

  Kyon had still not made a move, had still not answered. A part of him wondered if the boy even had an answer to give.

  But that, too, was revealing.

  Still, patience had its limits.

  "How long do you intend to make me wait?" Conrad finally said, his voice calm, measured.

  Kyon lifted his gaze, meeting his eyes for the first time in what felt like an eternity. There was no fear there. No submission. Only calculation.

  Interesting.

  "Waiting doesn't seem to bother you," Kyon replied at last. His tone was neutral, giving nothing away.

  Conrad chuckled. "A fair observation. But even I have my limits."

  Kyon didn’t react, at least not visibly. But Conrad had been alive long enough to know that silence was rarely ever empty. It always meant something.

  And right now, it meant the boy was still thinking.

  Still considering his next move.

  "You charged up here," Conrad continued, tilting his head slightly. "Believing you could intimidate me. That was a miscalculation, wasn't it?"

  Kyon didn't answer immediately, but Conrad saw the faintest flicker of acknowledgment in his expression. He knew it had been a mistake, even if he wouldn’t say it out loud.

  "A mistake," Kyon admitted at last, "but not one I regret."

  Conrad arched a brow. "No? And why is that?"

  Kyon exhaled slowly. "Because now I understand something I didn't before."

  Conrad allowed himself a small smile. "And what is that?"