Charles's heart lurched at Lira's question.
Asking whether he was still her stepbrother or not hit like a thunderbolt.
It wasn't something to take lightly—answering wrong here was as good as signing his own execution, given her position in the clan.
This wasn't a physical fight anymore; it was a verbal duel.
For a moment, the aroma of rice and meat and the warmth of the room faded, replaced by a chill running down Rian's spine.
'Oh, shit,' Charles thought, eyes wide. 'How did I not see this coming?'
In all his time in this world, Charles had focused on surviving the endless fights every lunatic in this place forced on him.
And while he'd won most of them… he'd overlooked a critical detail.
He hadn't made any effort to mimic the original Rian.
The fragmented memories Charles had of Rian Cole painted a quiet, reserved young man who trained alone, obeyed orders silently, and never rose to provocations.
