Vulcan sat alone in his chair, fingers placed on his chin as he waited for Ronan to finish selecting his skills from the restricted library.

The meeting room felt heavier now, emptier without the others present, and that emptiness gave him space to think clearly without interruptions.

Ronan had changed.

Irene had said as much after the entrance exam.

Vulcan had dismissed it initially – children often mistook confidence for improvement. Especially when they were surprised by an unexpected outcome.

But today proved Irene’s instincts correct.

The change ran deeper than Vulcan had anticipated, far beyond what simple Academy exposure could explain.

The first sign appeared during that dinner, weeks ago.

Ronan had confronted him directly, refusing the order to back out of the entrance exam with surprising composure.

He’d assumed it was desperation – a final attempt to chase Iris before losing her entirely.

That explanation had made sense at the time.

Then he found out Ronan dissolved the engagement himself.

Vulcan’s hand tightened slightly against the armrest.

That single action unraveled every thread he’d constructed.

A boy obsessed with Iris Lockhart for years doesn’t simply walk away, especially not before securing something better.

Yet Ronan had done exactly that, without hesitation, and without visible regret.

And then today.

Vulcan exhaled slowly, his mind returning to the pressure he’d released during their confrontation. He’d only used Rank 3 intensity – enough to remind Ronan of the gap between them, not enough to truly harm.

Yet Ronan had sat there, calm, taking a sip of tea as if Vulcan’s mana meant nothing.

An artifact, most likely.

A potion would have left traces. A skill would have required mana movement, and Vulcan would have sensed that. A blessing would have reacted differently.

That left an external ward, charm, or defensive relic.

A relic made the most sense, as it would protect him directly.

Ronan must have anticipated this meeting and prepared for it.

Brought something capable of shielding him from overwhelming pressure. That level of foresight, that willingness to plan multiple steps ahead... it wasn’t recklessness. It was calculation.

And then there was the cat.

Vulcan did not know what it was. A familiar, perhaps. A spy-beast. A trained magical creature. It could have been any number of things, but the exact answer mattered little.

A normal animal would have panicked under his pressure.

That creature had not.

It had bristled, yes, and its claws had dug into Ronan’s hair, but it had remained exactly where it was.

More importantly, Ronan had made sure Vulcan noticed it.

He had brought the creature openly into a private family meeting, kept it visible through the entire exchange, and when questioned, had not even tried to hide its abnormality.

He had admitted its mana pathways were unlocked, and even offered it up for inspection.

"She has very good eyesight. And she is very attentive."

To anyone else it may have sounded like a cocky brat boasting about his new pet.

To Vulcan it sounded like Ronan making it very clear to him that there were another pair of eyes in the room.

Before Vulcan could continue his thoughts, the meeting room door opened.

Irene stepped inside, her expression tight with suppressed frustration. She didn’t want for him to acknowledge her.

"What was the meaning of that?" she asked, her voice sounded on the verge of rising. "You negotiated with him. You gave him access to the restricted library. Two skills. You don’t even let me go in there!"

"Irene, you know the matter of his engagement is important. Do not act out."

"He burned the contract in front of your face," Irene continued, frustration seeping into her voice. "He challenged you directly. Then he somehow walked away with access to the restricted library?! If anyone else had done that, you would have crushed them where they stood."

"Tell me, Irene, do you remember," Vulcan said, voice measured, "how Ronan reacted when I applied pressure toward him?"

Irene nodded, though her expression remained tight.

"Of course. But it’s obvious what you did. You applied pressure to everyone except him. A demonstration. ’Look what I can do, but I’m deliberately sparing you.’ Basic intimidation."

Irene seemed confident in her assessment.

"Wrong."

The single word cut through the room like a sharp edge.

"I... don’t understand."

"The pressure was targeted directly at Ronan," Vulcan said calmly. "Only him. What you felt was residual. Simply spillover.."

Irene stared at him, then shook her head. "That’s not possible."

"It is."

"There’s no way–" Irene stopped herself, recalculating the possibilities in her head. If Vulcan had focused the pressure entirely on Ronan, and she had still felt crushed by the residue, then Ronan should have been flattened. Unconscious at minimum. Possibly injured.

But he had sat there calmly. Drinking tea.

"Why?" she asked quietly.

"An artifact," Vulcan answered. "He anticipated this meeting. Knew I would use pressure to influence his decision. And prepared accordingly."

Irene felt her father was giving him too much credit.

"But not only that," Vulcan continued. "Not only planning, but he showed he knows more about the family than he lets on."

"I don’t understand."

"You are aware I have made you the secret heir Irene, correct?"

Irene nodded. It was something her father had only told her.

Vulcan leaned forward slightly.

"Tell me. Do you think his statement – that I was free to disown him – was a bluff?"

"Of course it was," Irene said without hesitation. "He wouldn’t throw away the Ashbourne name. Not when–"

"It was not a bluff."

Irene froze.

"It was a threat. His tone and the certainty of his expression showed that." Vulcan said, tone almost clinical. "He was telling me that if I pressed the matter, he would disown himself."

"That makes no sense," Irene said, though her voice wavered. "Why would he–"

"There is a chance he may know of me making you the heir," Vulcan interrupted. "But that’s not the important part. Whether he knows you are the heir or not is irrelevant. What is important is that he knows disowning him now would damage the family more than it would damage him."

Irene’s mind raced through the implications.

Publicly, Ronan was still the Ashbourne heir.

The lazy, disgraceful son, yes – but the heir nonetheless.

If Vulcan disowned him now, especially after Ronan had just entered S-Class, the noble families would see it as Vulcan failing to control his own successor.

Weakness. Poor judgment.

An inability to manage his household.

Meanwhile, Ronan’s reputation was already ruined.

Being disowned would barely change how others saw him. He had no real allies among the nobility.

Vulcan already limited his funding as well, meaning money wasn’t an issue either.

"He threatened to hurt the family more than it would hurt him," Irene said slowly, finally realizing.

Vulcan nodded. "Precisely."

Irene sat down heavily in the chair Ronan had occupied minutes earlier. She had thought she understood him after the entrance exam. After the engagement dissolution. After the war.

But this was different.

This was Ronan turning his own weakness into leverage.

"How long," Irene asked, "has he been like this?"

"You misunderstand Irene. Ronan was not always what he became. You may not remember, but as a child, he showed remarkable talent, far surpassing his peers."

Of course she remembered. She could remember the jealously, resentment and envy she felt clear as day when her brother outdid her at everything.

Vulcan continued. "Do not misunderstand Irene, Ronan is not a fool. Never once have I thought him a fool. But after his mother died, he acted the fool. For what reason, I do not know. But his recent accomplishments show signs of him returning to his past self."

Irene did not know what to think about that.

It had been a consideration. Everyone knew of Ronan’s reputation as a genius in his early years. But everyone forgot about it just as fast after he started acting like a mindless barbarian with no concern for anyone but himself.

Was she supposed to be happy at this change? If he continued showing competence, he would stop embarrassing the Ashbourne family.

But from the recent meeting, it looked like Ronan had no interest in the betterment of the family at all.

So no, Irene did not know what to think.

Just what are you thinking?