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Cold Iron

  The ride back was silent.

  Driver Kim kept his eyes forward, hands steady on the wheel, shoulders rigid as if the car itself might turn on him if he relaxed. He didn't glance at the rearview mirror even once. Whatever he'd felt in that alley—something cold, predatory—still clung to his nerves, urging him to keep his distance from the sickly young master sitting behind him.

  Do-Hyun, meanwhile, looked perfectly at ease, gaze drifting out the window as Seoul blurred past in gray winter light.

  The dagger's weight was steady against his ribs, grounding him. Ugly or not, it was his first step forward.

  [System Note: The blade is thirsty. It's practically vibrating. Don't cut yourself, clumsy.]

  Do-Hyun ignored the System's voice and let his gaze rest on the city sliding past the window.

  Outside, people moved a little quicker than they had yesterday, shoulders hunched against the cold. The sky had turned a bruised purple, heavy with the promise of more snow. The "gas leak" excuse was still holding on the news, still being repeated like a script, but the unease beneath it was real. The temperature hadn't climbed above freezing once.

  By the time the car rolled through the Shin-Hwa gates, the estate looked almost unreal in its brightness.

  The mansion stood tall and immaculate, every window blazing with warm light, as if sheer wealth could keep the world outside from cracking apart. Secure. Untouchable.

  "We're here," Driver Kim muttered, his voice tighter than usual.

  Do-Hyun was already reaching for the door before the sedan had fully settled.

  "And the detour?" he said, not quite a threat—just a fact.

  Kim nodded quickly. "Understood."

  Gravel crunched beneath Do-Hyun's shoes as he stepped out—and a voice greeted him before he could reach the entrance.

  "Well, well. Look who decided to come home."

  He paused.

  Kang Tae-Soo lounged beneath the portico, leaning against a marble pillar like he owned the air itself. He wore an expensive tracksuit, and a cigarette burned lazily between his fingers, its ember bright in the dim evening.

  "Did you enjoy your little shopping trip, Trash?" Tae-Soo asked, flicking ash onto the spotless driveway. "Pick out a coffin while you were at it?"

  Do-Hyun adjusted his coat, expression unreadable.

  "Just a souvenir."

  He moved to pass, but Tae-Soo stepped neatly into his path.

  Up close, the difference was obvious—Tae-Soo was taller, broader, built for dominance. Something else stirred beneath his skin. The air around him shimmered faintly, heat rippling off him despite the winter cold.

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  [System Analysis: Hostile Intent Detected.]

  [Subject: Kang Tae-Soo.]

  [Mana: Unstable (Fire). He's a walking lighter fluid dispenser.]

  "Let me see," Tae-Soo demanded, holding out his hand like it was an order more than a request. "Father said you bought antiques, so I want to know what kind of garbage you wasted the family money on."

  "It's fragile," Do-Hyun replied calmly, his voice flat.

  Tae-Soo's mouth twisted into a grin. "I said let me see it."

  Before Do-Hyun could move, Tae-Soo grabbed his lapel and yanked him forward with impatient force, his other hand already digging into the inside of his coat. He pulled out the wrapped bundle in one rough motion and tore the cloth away without care.

  The Executed's Shiv dropped into Tae-Soo's hand.

  It looked almost pathetic at first glance—blackened with rust, the edge chipped, the leather on the handle old enough to rot away. Tae-Soo stared at it for a moment, as if waiting for the punchline, and then he threw his head back and laughed.

  "This?" he wheezed, lifting it slightly like it was an insult. "You went shopping and came back with a rusty piece of scrap metal?"

  His laughter sharpened into mockery as he turned the blade in his hand. "What are you planning to do with this, Do-Hyun? Cut yourself a steak? You'll get tetanus before you get a bite."

  Do-Hyun's expression didn't change.

  "Give it back, Tae-Soo."

  Tae-Soo's eyes narrowed, the amusement fading into something uglier. "Or what? You'll cry?"

  Heat gathered in his palm, faint at first, then impossible to ignore, the air around his hand rippling with awakening mana.

  "Maybe I should melt it down for you," Tae-Soo murmured, voice thick with cruelty, "save you the embarrassment."

  Smoke curled from the leather wrapping as the hilt began to blacken under his grip.

  [Alert: Artifact Integrity at 98%. The idiot is damaging the goods.]

  Do-Hyun sighed.

  "You're right," he said softly. "It is trash."

  A single step forward, invading Tae-Soo's space, violet eyes locking onto his brother's.

  "But it's my trash."

  The air thickened with a pulse of killing intent, suffocating and absolute.

  For a split second, Tae-Soo didn't see the sickly brother he knew. Shadows stretched taller, and death itself seemed to tower over him.

  His body reacted before his mind could. The knife slipped, clattering against the gravel, heat vanishing instantly from his hand. Stumbling back, gasping, eyes wide, heart hammering against his ribs, Tae-Soo struggled to process what he had just felt.

  "What the hell…" he whispered.

  Do-Hyun crouched calmly, retrieved the blade, and brushed gravel from its edge.

  "Careful, brother," he said, sliding it into his coat. "Fire burns both ways."

  Passing Tae-Soo, Do-Hyun entered the house, leaving him shivering in the cold, alone, unable to understand why a cripple had just terrified him.

  Bedroom — 11:00 PM.

  The desk lamp cast a narrow circle of light over the velvet cloth where the Executed's Shiv rested. Do-Hyun poured a little water over the whetstone and began sharpening the blade.

  Shhhk. Shhhk.

  Black rust flaked away with each measured stroke, revealing dull gray metal, the color of a storm cloud.

  [System Quest: 'Awaken the Blade'.]

  [Progress: 2% Cleaned.]

  [Requirement: This weapon doesn't just need oil. It needs blood. Monster blood. Human blood. It's not picky.]

  "It will get fed soon enough," Do-Hyun murmured.

  Shhhk. Shhhk.

  The sound was steady, hypnotic.

  In two days, the Rat's Nest dungeon would break. Hidden in the alley behind the antique shop, low-level, crawling with vermin-type monsters—ideal for grinding levels, suitable for hiding a murder if necessary.

  Do-Hyun paused, catching his reflection in the dark window. His face remained pale, but his eyes had sharpened. The 12.8% Vitality held, and climbing the stairs no longer left him panting.

  The knife in his hand bore a faint red line down its center, pulsating in time with his heartbeat.

  "Two days," he whispered.

  Shhhk. Shhhk.

  Outside, snow continued to fall, heavier this time, the street growing quieter by the minute.

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