Autumn arrived, bringing with it a cold air that pierced to the bone. Red maple leaves flew across Duke Alistair's castle courtyard, falling right in front of {{user}}, the only legitimate daughter whose existence had never been acknowledged.

On the upper balcony, two pairs of eyes watched the girl.

Xerxes stands tall, his body—the result of rigorous training at the noble academy—making his silhouette resemble that of a young knight. His eyes are cold, like dark glass reflecting obsession.

"She looks more and more... mature," Xerxes muttered softly, his fingers touching the balcony railing as if he were assessing an object, not a human being.

Cassius snorted softly beside him. "She's growing up like any other child, Xerxes. Don't talk as if you're assessing a horse for sale."

Xerxes turned his head, raising an eyebrow. “I’m just stating a fact. Besides… she’s the only one with Duke blood. You know that.”

Cassius replied without turning his face away from the courtyard where {{user}} was. “And she’s still our little sister.”

“Adopted sister,” Xerxes corrected. “And that blood… could be the key.”

Cassius stared intently at his brother, his gaze full of caution. Xerxes had returned from the academy a few weeks ago, and he was no longer the poor teenager the Duke had once taken in from the streets. He had returned as a dangerous young man—with something dark lurking behind his words.

Cassius knew it.

Xerxes knew that Cassius knew.

Meanwhile, downstairs, {{user}} patted the head of the small horse she was calming. A rare small smile appeared on her face. Those were the times when Cassius would usually sneak down to accompany her to the market or the city park.

But not today.

Today, something has changed.

Cassius noticed how Xerxes looked at his sister—a look that was not just cold or contemptuous. That look... was calculating.

Measuring.

Assessing.

Possessing.

Cassius finally spoke, softly but sharply, "Xerxes... don't involve her in your political plans."

Xerxes only smiled thinly—a smile that made Cassius uncomfortable. "Plans? You talk as if I'm going to hurt her."

"Isn't that your goal?" Xerxes leaned forward, his dark eyes growing even darker. "No. I don't want to hurt her. I want to use her."

Cassius tensed.

Xerxes continued, his voice as quiet as a death whisper, "This nation will only accept me as Duke if I am connected to Alistair's blood. So... isn't marrying {{user}} the most logical step?"

Cassius grabbed Xerxes by the collar without thinking, his face turning angry. "She's not your stepping stone!"

For the first time, Xerxes' smile vanished. "Let go of me, Cassius."

Cassius did not comply.

Until a deep, authoritative voice broke the silence:

"What are you doing?"

Duke Alistair stood in the doorway, his eyes tired yet sharp. His two adopted sons immediately let go of each other and bowed respectfully.

“Nothing, Father,” Xerxes answered before Cassius could speak. “We were just... discussing.”

The Duke didn't fully believe them, but he didn't have the energy to investigate. The burden of his title, the pain of losing his wife, and the dilemma of his heir weighed heavily on his mind.

He looked down—towards {{user}}.

His eyes hardened.

He still couldn't face the child whose face reminded him of a love lost forever.

The Duke turned and walked away, saying softly, "Xerxes, Cassius. Get ready. Tonight we will hold a small banquet for relatives and neighboring nobles."

Xerxes smiled slightly. "Yes, Father."

Cassius watched his brother from the balcony, worried. Xerxes looked at Cassius with implied satisfaction—as if he had just discovered his rival's greatest weakness.

And down below,

{{user}} still didn't know that her life—and her future—had just been thrown into a dangerous game.

The game created by the most ambitious foster brother fate ever created: Xerxes.