The silence that had formed didn’t last long after that. Jake wasn’t the type of person to accept being dismissed like that, much less after crossing half the structure just to get there. His body visibly tensed, his fingers slowly closing as his jaw clenched tightly enough to mark his face. He took a step forward, his gaze becoming harder, more unstable, as if trying to decide whether to advance or still maintain some level of control.

"I didn’t understand what you—" he began, his voice heavier than usual, already showing irritation.

"I know you didn’t understand."

Rakshasa cut him off before he could finish, without raising her voice, but with a precision that completely nullified his attempt to continue. There was no hurry in her speech, nor any sign that this was an argument. It was simply... one-sided.

The silhouette behind the fabric moved slightly, adjusting its posture in the lotus position, as if merely rearranging its own comfort before continuing. The gesture was small, but it carried an irritating naturalness, as if Jake represented absolutely nothing relevant there.

"Then I’ll explain," she continued, now more directly. "Because apparently you lack the capacity to perceive basic things on your own."

Jake opened his mouth again, this time with more force, but stopped mid-sentence. Not by conscious choice, but because something in the way she spoke simply blocked the response before it could even come out.

Rakshasa didn’t wait.

"First," she said, slightly raising her hand behind the fabric, the gesture reflected only as a subtle shift in the shadow, "you’re the one who came to me. You’re the one who requested this audience. You’re the one who entered this space uninvited... you were."

Her voice didn’t rise.

But it grew heavier.

"So it starts there: you’re in the wrong position to ask questions in that tone."

Jake narrowed his eyes, his body still tense, but now clearly restrained. It wasn’t submission. It was calculation. He was listening... but he wasn’t accepting it.

Rakshasa continued without giving him a chance.

"Second," she said, now with a slight tilt of her head, "you came in here directly addressing a matter that doesn’t concern you."

There was a short pause.

"Victor."

The name was said without exaggerated emphasis, but with clear intent.

"You have no direct connection to him. You have no authority over him. You have no responsibility for him. And yet, you came in here demanding explanations as if you had some kind of right."

Jake let out a small sound of disdain through his nose.

"He’s a Valentine," he replied dryly. "That’s enough."

Rakshasa was silent for a second.

And then she laughed.

It wasn’t loud.

But it wasn’t light either.

It was short, direct, almost humorless.

"Is that so?" she replied. "Then tell me... what part of that gives you authority over me?"

Jake didn’t answer immediately.

And that, in itself, was answer enough.

Rakshasa didn’t press.

She just continued.

"Third," she said, now with a tone that didn’t change in volume, but completely changed in intent, "your arrogance."

The atmosphere seemed to weigh a little heavier at that moment.

It wasn’t visible.

But it was felt.

"You came in here thinking you could question me," she continued. "Thinking you could demand answers. Thinking I should... justify anything to you."

Jake took another step forward this time, his control clearly beginning to slip.

"I’m not demanding anything—" he began.

"Yes, you are."

She cut him off again.

Effortlessly.

Without raising her voice.

But this time... with something different behind it.

Something that wasn’t there before.

"You don’t realize it because you’re unaware of your own place," she said simply. "But you are."

The air grew heavier.

Truly.

Jake felt it.

His body reacted before his mind followed, his muscles tensing even more, his instinct trying to alert him to something that wasn’t yet fully visible.

Rakshasa didn’t stop.

"And the worst part isn’t that," she continued. "The worst part is that you think you have any valid reason for it."

A short pause.

"You came here with a question," she said. "But behind it is a very clear intention."

Jake was silent this time.

Watching.

Waiting.

"You want to know what I want with him," Rakshasa continued. "Because you want to decide if it affects you. If it interferes with your interests. If it gets in your way."

The silence stretched for a second.

"And that," she concluded, "is the kind of thought only someone completely out of touch with reality would have."

Jake stepped forward again, now clearly irritated.

"You’re getting too big for your britches," he said, his voice lower, more charged. "I just asked a simple question."

Rakshasa didn’t answer immediately.

And when she did... it wasn’t to argue.

"No," she said. "You asked the wrong question."

Jake froze for a second.

"Wrong?" he repeated.

"Yes," she replied. "Because you assumed you had the right to ask it."

The silence returned.

Heavier.

More direct.

Rakshasa leaned slightly forward, and even without her face being visible, the change in posture was enough to completely alter the feeling of the room.

"So let me ask you something," she said, now more directly. "Where did you get the right to question my intentions?"

Jake opened his mouth.

But he didn’t answer.

Not because he didn’t want to.

But because, for the first time since he entered there, he didn’t have an immediate answer.

Rakshasa continued, unhurriedly.

"You’re not on my level," she said. "You’re not in my position. You’re not even close to my reach."

Her voice remained calm.

But now... there was real weight to it.

"And yet you came in here thinking you could treat me as an equal."

Jake took a step back.

Instinctive.

Small.

But enough.

He realized.

Not completely.

But enough to know something was wrong.

Rakshasa realized it too.

And that only made her tone colder.

"Do you know what happens to someone who faints just from sensing a heavier aura?" she asked.

Jake didn’t answer.

"He doesn’t survive in environments where that’s common," she continued. "He doesn’t participate in relevant decisions. He doesn’t interfere in anything that really matters."

A pause.

"He’s disposable."

The air grew thicker.

This time, without disguise.

Jake felt the weight truly hit him now, as if something were pressing his body from the inside out, a growing discomfort that didn’t come from direct physical force, but from something more... profound.

Rakshasa didn’t release everything.

But she let enough slip.

"So I’ll simplify it for you," she said. "You came in here without knowing who you were talking to. You spoke without considering. You questioned without basis and still think that’s normal."

The heavy silence still hung in the air when something clearly changed in Jake’s posture. Up to that point, he was still holding back, still trying to maintain some minimal level of control, like someone who knows they’ve entered a place where they should measure every word. But it was being crushed little by little, phrase by phrase, until there was no more room for containment. What came next wasn’t calculated. It was what he truly was.

His shoulder moved first, a small adjustment, followed by his neck tilting slightly to the side as if releasing its own accumulated tension. The air escaped through his nose with more force, almost a restrained growl, and when he looked up again at the silhouette behind the fabric, there was no longer any attempt to appear reasonable. What was there was direct, raw, and unstable.

"You talk too much," he said, his voice lower, but now laden with something more aggressive. "And you think that puts you above everyone else."

The tone was no longer that of someone asking for an answer.

It was confrontation.

"Do you think I came here to ask permission?" he continued, taking another step forward, now completely ignoring the implicit boundary of space. "I came because I wanted to. I asked because I wanted to. And you will answer because I decided you will."

The air around him seemed to react along with him, not with the weight of before, but with a more raw, more disorganized instability, as if his presence were leaking out unfiltered. It was a different kind of pressure than Rakshasa’s. Less controlled, but still dangerous.

Jake smiled slightly.

But there was no humor there.

"You stay there, hidden behind a sheet, talking as if you were untouchable," he said. "But in the end... you’re just avoiding looking into the eyes of someone who doesn’t bow down to you."

The last part came out with more force.

More personal.

"I don’t care who you think you are," he continued, now with his body completely turned forward, ready to advance if necessary. "If it involves Victor, I’m interested. And if I’m interested, I’ll go after him. Simple as that."

Silence fell again.

But this time... different.

Rakshasa didn’t respond immediately.

And then—

She laughed.

It wasn’t short this time.

Nor restrained.

It was open.

Direct.

And completely out of place considering what he had just said.

"Ah..." she let out, between breaths, as if she were really finding it funny. "Now that’s more like it."

The silhouette behind the fabric moved slightly, no longer just adjusting posture, but leaning forward with clear interest, like someone who had finally found something minimally relevant amidst something boring.

"It took you long enough," she continued, a hint of laughter still in her voice. "I was starting to think you were just another useless person trying to look important."

Jake didn’t back down this time.

But he didn’t advance either.

He stood there.

Staring.

Waiting.

Rakshasa took a deep breath, controlling the rest of her laughter, and when she spoke again, her tone no longer had that lightness. It was still calm. But now... there was something colder.

"That thing you just showed," she said, "that unbridled arrogance, that need to assert yourself, that instability... that’s who you are."

A short pause.

"Not that pathetic attempt to appear controlled."

Jake narrowed his eyes.

"Be careful what you say—" she began.

"Or what?"

She cut him off again.

But this time... without any space.

The air grew heavy again.

More so than before.

"What exactly are you going to do?" she continued. "Advance? Try to hit me? Break something to prove a point?"

The silhouette tilted its head slightly.

"You can’t even fully sustain my presence," she said. "And you think you’re in a position to threaten me."

Jake didn’t answer.

But his body answered for him.

His muscles tensed to the limit.

His breathing became heavier.

His eyes... more unsteady.

Rakshasa watched.

And then let out a light sigh.

"Honestly," she said, "I’m only not killing you right here and now because of your hypocritical uncle."

The tone was too casual.

Too direct.

As if she were talking about something simple.

"He would come to complain," she continued. "He’d give that ridiculous speech about balance, structure, responsibility... and then I’d have to kill him too."

A short pause.

"And that would be unnecessary work."

The silence that followed was different.

It wasn’t just tension anymore.

It was... a concrete threat.

Jake didn’t back down.

But he didn’t speak either.

Because now he was measuring.

Really.

Rakshasa continued.

"But I’m not unfair," she said, shifting her posture slightly, settling back more calmly. "And you... despite everything... still have potential usefulness."

Jake frowned slightly.

"Then I’ll give you a chance," she finished.

That caught his attention.

"A bet," said Rakshasa.

Silence returned, but now with focus.

"Ascension Ceremony," she continued. "You participate. And not only participate... you get into the top three." Jake didn’t answer immediately.

But he listened.

Attentively.

"If you can do this," she said, "I will bow before you and apologize."

There was no irony in her tone.

Nor provocation.

It was a direct proposition.

Heavy.

Jake gave a small, wry smile.

"And if I can’t?" he asked.

Rakshasa didn’t answer right away.

And when she did...

The air changed.

Again.

"If you can’t," she said calmly, "I will exterminate every branch connected to you."

The sentence came out clean.

No exaggeration.

No raising of the tone.

"Direct family, indirect family, allies, subordinates... anyone who bears your name or is connected to you in any way."

Jake didn’t move.

But his gaze changed.

Rakshasa continued.

"And you," she added, "I’m not just going to kill you." A short pause.

"I’m going to break you." The weight of that sentence hung in the air for a second.

"And then," she said, "I’m going to rip out your genitals and put them in your mouth." The silence became absolute. "And then I’m going to hang your head while your balls are in place of your eyes, it’s going to be beautiful to see."