I gazed out my window. A warm cup of jasmine-infused white tea was in my right hand. I took a slow sip and placed the cup back on its saucer, held by my left hand.

The sky was a bright light blue, with the sun cheerfully lighting the city in a soft glow. Only a few clouds dotted the perimeter.

"What unfortunate weather," I grumbled.

"Young master Luca, don't worry," Remlend's voice sounded behind me as he picked out an outfit for me, "The rain will only come in the later second half of the day. The first half should be clear of the showers."

I glanced back at him.

"It'll rain later today?" I asked excitedly. "How do you know?"

Remlend gestured towards the wall opposite my window. "You can't tell from your view, but some dark clouds are approaching us. It'll likely rain for the next couple of days."

I smiled broadly.

Finally, I can go see my information broker.

As Freida Stran only worked during lousy weather, I hadn't been able to round back to her regarding the two questions I posed to her the previous time I saw her when collecting her findings to aid me in rescuing Fin and Leona.

And I had more questions I wanted to ask of her. One was regarding lifting Remlend's curse; it wasn't the usual request, but I figured it was worth trying. The other was intel regarding Claude Noire. I had some concerns about posing a request for information on the leader of the Spider Syndicate—after all, she turned down my request regarding the Misforetune Sisters. However, it was worth a shot, at the very least.

"Will this do?" Remlend inquired.

I nodded as I took in the articles of clothing that he presented.

I had asked Remlend to pick an outfit for me instead of sifting through my closet myself. I requested something simple, without any peculiar intricacies that made noise or sparkled when the light hit them.

Being the capable attendant he was, he prepared an outfit for me that met that criteria. A plain yet elegant composition: a crisp white linen blouse paired with black trousers and finished with a thin wool jacket. The only bit that stood out was the shoes he selected for me; they appeared like a perfectly normal pair of brown leather brogues until one walked. The soles were coated in gold foil.

No matter, it's close enough. And a little flair and personality isn't a bad thing.

"Yes, thank you, Remlend. Could you order more clothing that is more along those lines?" I inquired. "And remove all the gaudy attire in my closet."

"I will do so right away, young master." Remlend bowed and left my quarters.

"Peep!"

With Remlend gone, Leona fluttered over.

Why did you sound so pleased about the rain?

"Ah." I suddenly realized Leona hadn't been present for my visits to Freida Stran. She had yet to meet my favorite information broker. Each time I had gone, she had been kidnapped at the time.

I explained to her who Freida Stran was.

"Peep!"

How is she able to figure out everything so well? Is she a witch?

I frowned.

Truth be told, I never considered how Freida Stran could gather the information that she did. I was always simply thankful that she hadn't been discovered by any individuals that posed a threat to me.

However, thinking on it further, the only way she could gather the intel that she did was either through a robust network, similar to Natalia Ashford, or she had a few, possibly magical, tricks up her sleeves. The cursed items in her shop that she made me take were already quite odd in of themselves.

"I'm not sure," I replied and finished dressing myself.

I combed back my black hair and inspected myself in the mirror.

Having come back seven years and having lived about a month in total if I combined the seven rounds, I was finally comfortable enough in my skin that I didn't catch myself being startled every time I noticed my younger reflection.

"Breakfast?" I asked Leona, and she cheerfully chirped back in approval.

***

It was one of Leona's three favorite times of the day. The little ball of yellow fluff fluttered across the spread of food laid out on the dining table. She chirped in delight as she cleared through plate after plate.

"She's quite a hungry one," Micah commented, amused.

"She is," I agreed.

However, what had been a point of bemusement had now grown into severe concern. Sure, there was the apparent oddity in a bird of her size eating the amount of food that she did. Jarvis and Elda realized she was unusual by that alone, and now several Frey Manor members knew she was far from ordinary. Guards around the manor behaved with significantly more respect toward me. Or rather, based on their twitching eyes, it was likely fear. Getting eaten and spat out leaves a lasting impression, after all.

But the second was the why. Leona was currently eating twice the amount of food she had consumed on her first day after hatching.

And yet she feels starved only a short while later. It doesn't make any sense.

"We might need to have the kitchen begin ordering more ingredients with Leona in mind," Micah added.

That was a third concern. While much of the continent was on the brink of starvation, Leona was eating enough to satisfy three grown men.

If her food intake has doubled over seventeen days, will it double again in twenty-eight? How much will she need to eat to satisfy her hunger a year from now?

My family and most of those living in Adovoria were fortunate enough not to worry about their next meal. In fact, as evident by the palace feasts and the spread before me, food wasn't merely an ingredient for survival but something consumed for pleasure. However, that wasn't the case for a lot of people. I knew that quite well from my misadventures after the Frey Manor burned down and the time I served as a soldier in The Order.

"Where are the twins? And Leo?" I asked.

I was halfway done with my meal, but my older brother and I were still the only two people seated in the dining room.

"I'm not sure about Leo, but Elda wasn't feeling well; Jarvis took his breakfast and went to check on her," Micah replied.

Damn it. It must be the effects of the mysterious poison. And she is only twelve, so it might be hitting her harder than myself and the guards.

"Are you planning on going out of the manor today?" Micah asked.

I nodded. I needed to go see Kathy about finding an antidote to the poison inflicting Elda, the guards, and myself.

"There's been some unusual movement from the Spiders as of late," Micah said. "Aside from Henry and a few of our family's guards, I will dispatch a few others to watch over you from the sidelines."

Clank.

I paused my fork on my plate. The bright yellow yolk that it had pierced oozed out across my plate.

"About that, I have some information regarding its leader," I said quietly.

Micah snapped his fingers and flicked his hand for the servants bringing in new plates to exit the room.

Once alone in the vast dining room, with Leona still busy munching on food, I continued speaking.

"I have his identity: his name is Claude Noire," I said.

"Ah," Micah relaxed in his seat and sipped his tea. "I know that much."

I blinked in surprise.

"You already knew?" I inquired.

Micah shrugged. "I've met him a few times."

I was now completely bewildered. Under what context could my brother have ever possibly met the leader of the most dangerous syndicate on the continent? Then again, perhaps it wasn't so odd after all. Given my family's history and connections, why wouldn't Micah be aware of someone like Claude Noire?

Is that why Chase Daylan was under the impression that I'd recognize his name as well?

"Do you know about his tattoo then?" I asked.

Micah arched an eyebrow. "No, that I'm unaware of. What of it?"

I sighed in relief that I could offer something to my brother that he didn't already know.

"It's a runic tattoo. It appeared seventeen days ago and allows him to gain insight into the future," I said.

Micah leaned forward in his seat. A frown crossed his face. "What do you mean by the future? Is it a future set in stone or some other? How does it work?"

"No—more like iterations of the past," I explained. "Well, if life repeated, and he had insight into those past iterations and tattooed it on his body, his future self could access those insights—"

I noticed the corner of Micah's mouth tug upward. A smile appeared on his face as I continued to stumble through my explanation. I realized as I explained that I was struggling to put into words what I knew without giving away that I was on my eighth life myself.

"Peep!"

Luca, have you ever considered looping your brother in? He scares me, that's for sure, but I don't see why you haven't told him the truth yet. I know you're on your eighth life. As does Chase Daylan, Sedna Ozeryn, Duncan Genuiver, and whomever else there there might be. Why aren't you telling your brother the truth? If there's one person that could help you beat this Game, it's him.

I stopped rambling on and bit my lip. My fingers entangled over one another in a tight grip.

<< What if he doesn't believe me? >>

It was because I was afraid. Strangers not believing me was one matter, but I feared my revered and perfect brother not believing me. Or worse, thinking me crazy and pushing me away. He was already indicating concern for my sanity, as it was made quite evident by the multiple comments he had made over the rounds.

"Peep!"

You're a complete idiot. And this so-called genius brother of yours is an even bigger idiot than you in some ways—I've heard the servants joke about some of the apparent pranks your brother has fallen for that you pulled. Tricks that no one with half a mind ought to have fallen for. He'll believe you even if you tell him that the sky is pink and the sun is but a giant sunflower.

"Luca, you're not telling me something. You know you can tell me anything, right?" Micah said gently, seemingly reading my mind. "You know I'll believe you, no matter what, right?"

"Peep!"

There you have it. He'll believe anything you tell him. He even said so himself.

I laughed. It was a nervous laugh. I was trying to figure out how to proceed. This wasn't how I initially planned the conversation to go.

"Peep!"

At the very least, if you want to protect your brother, shouldn't he know just how dangerous Claude Noire really is? Because, as it stands, Micah clearly has no idea, and you're doing a splendidly poor job explaining the situation. As you told me, even that warlock has left the continent because of how dangerous Claude is now that he has that coin artifact, too.

Ah.

That struck a cord.

I sighed.

What was the point of fearing my brother's reaction when not telling him might possibly mean his impending death?

I gripped my hands hard enough that my fingertips turned bright red while the knuckles went white.

"Micah, what I'm about to tell you is going to sound insane, but it's the truth," I said. My voice wavered.

I turned my eyes away from my hands in my lap and observed my brother's reaction. His green eyes gazed back at me, and he smiled gently. His blonde hair fell perfectly and effortlessly across his head.

I clenched my jaw.

Why was this so difficult?

"I'm from the future—seven years into the future, to be precise," I said slowly. "And this is my eighth life."