In the heart of the city, within one of its tallest buildings, a luxurious office stood with large windows that spanned an entire wall. The view outside was a dynamic contrast, with the bustling city below, its energy seemingly screaming boisterously as traffic, people, and lights filled the streets. Yet, inside, the office remained eerily quiet, the stillness almost palpable against the lively atmosphere just beyond the glass. The contrast between the two worlds… one vibrant and loud, the other calm and composed, created a strange atmosphere that seemed to echo throughout the room.
In this silent atmosphere, the old man, who didn't seem to have withered with time, and still carried that youthful ambition and passion, though now tempered by the wisdom of experience. Gone was the recklessness of his younger days, replaced instead by a refined, measured authority. Standing with an air of quiet command, he gazed through the transparent glass at the city sprawling below him. His presence drew the attention of all who were fortunate enough to share the space, his focus unwavering.
But, suddenly, this tranquil silence was shattered by the sound of a door opening.
Entering was a woman in her late fifties. She carried herself with a straight, confident back and a sharp expression that spoke of experience. Yet, as she stepped forward toward the man before her, that commanding aura softened into unmistakable humility. In his presence, the edge in her gaze gave way to a respectful deference. The contrast in her gaze, in her steps, and in her bearing was striking… but the difference between one who had always worked under someone and one who had always commanded others was that immense.
The old woman, Layla, stood in silence for several moments, until the old man, who had remained lost in his own reverie even as she entered, finally shifted his attention toward her.
He made no gesture, nor did he move from his place, yet Layla, reading him with an ease born of deep familiarity, began to speak in a measured tone.
"The entrance ceremony for the Academy lasted just two days... much shorter than we had anticipated."
"A significant number of the participants, even those who had been highly recommended, ended up failing and were cast aside without any mercy. They didn't show any consideration for anyone... and it's stirred a lot of anger among the people."
Layla's eyes seemed to be observing the reaction of the man she served for that long time, as she continued, "But amidst all of that, the government actually stood with the people from the Academy… its stance remained unshaken."
As Layla paused, seemingly expecting a comment at that moment, Vincent Quinn… who had been silently listening, actually finally really spoke. His voice carried a smooth, measured cadence. Each word was deliberate and resonant, exuding the authority of experience. With a tone that held a cold edge, he inquired,
"How many people were accepted from the government side?"
"Is the fail rate nearly the same?"
And Layla, with every answer seemingly prepared, didn't pause before replying.
"No, it's not the same... it's a lot lower, but there were still those who failed nonetheless."
With many things going in his mind, as he heard the answer, Vincent Quinn replied calmly, "… Then, it's okay, it's probably not a preferential treatment."
"How could those who were selected by the government, mostly through skills and other tests, be the same as the others after all."
After saying that, Vincent gestured for Layla to continue with his hand... and she did just that.
"The most surprising thing was that young Miss Olivia actually entered the Academy as the one to hold second place."
"And she seems treasured just the same as the first one, no less."
A gleam passed through Vincent's eyes at the mention of Olivia's name, and with an intrigued tone, he asked, "What about Henry?"
Layla stayed silent for a moment, seemingly hesitant, before she replied, "… He was barely accepted."
The smallest interest Vincent had seemed to fade, and he didn't ask further. Layla continued on her own.
She gave a detailed report about the happenings... about the events that occurred over the past two days. The Academy, unrelated to any previous power in the country, had finally opened, but solely concentrated on teaching essence related subjects.
And it was opened by people from outside this world.
Something known only to a rare few.
By the time she finished speaking, Vincent had said little, his gaze glazed and absorbed in thought.
It was again the same silence that continued for more than ten minutes, with Layla remaining still, unmoving, and graceful during all that time... despite her age.
But even she seemed to have grown impatient, as she finally opened her mouth and spoke.
"We have actually finally found Mr. Damian."
It was something unimportant, unrelated to what the one she served was currently focusing on, but Layla couldn't help but mention it.
And while Vincent's expression seemed to change slightly, showing a hint of displeasure at the interruption, he still didn't say anything. Layla, gaining a slight confidence but still finding it hard to deliver this piece of information, continued.
"We found him... dead."
There was no ripple in Vincent's eyes, nor a change in his expression at the mention of his son's death, but Layla still proceeded to explain carefully.
"We found his corpse two hours away by car from the point of the intentionally made accident. It was naturally secluded... but why did it take us three days to find the place? With our manpower and resources, it should have been resolved more quickly. I still don't know, and found suspicious."
After voicing her doubts, Layla continued, "His body was filled with several bullets."
"And they came from two different pistols."
"The one responsible for the single shot to the head was the cause of his death."
"The others... were fired after his death, which clearly indicates a deep grudge between the person responsible for those shots and Mr. Damian."