Dawn Walker

Chapter 214: 214: Where Is my Son? II

—

Sekhmet’s gaze turned colder. “No. I am telling you the truth. If your son is missing, your house should look for him. It is not my job to babysit your trash.”

A few people in the hall flinched at the word trash. Lily’s lips pressed together, half amused, half tense. She loved Sekhmet’s courage, but she also understood that courage in Null often led to blood.

Dickoff held still for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, and that quiet carried more threat than shouting ever could. “You speak boldly for a boy who just returned.”

Sekhmet replied evenly, “You speak politely for a man whose son plays thief.”

Dickoff’s gaze flicked briefly to the side, as if noticing how many ears were listening. He did not like witnesses. Witnesses turned private punishment into public politics.

“You will answer properly,” Dickoff said.

Sekhmet’s voice remained calm. “I already did. He might be playing with some shit, most likely swimming on them.”

The words were crude, but they were accurate, and accuracy insulted people more than profanity did. A few of the lingering nobles coughed to hide laughter. A clerk stared hard at his paperwork like it had suddenly become the most interesting thing in the world. Mira did not react, but the corner of her mouth tightened faintly, as if she was forcing herself not to smile.

Dickoff’s escort behind him shifted.

Not dramatic.

Just enough to show they were ready.

Dickoff’s eyes hardened. “Boy,” he said, “you are ignoring me.”

Sekhmet replied, “No. I am refusing you.”

Dickoff’s hand lifted slightly.

Not high.

Not theatrical.

A small signal.

Seven figures stepped into the aisle behind him with silent discipline.

They were not carriers. They were not clerks. They were not ordinary guards.

They moved like trained killers, and the way they positioned themselves was not accidental. They spread enough to block escape lanes and form a wall of threat between Sekhmet and the exit routes.

Sekhmet’s eyes narrowed. He activated Blood Eye. The world sharpened into truth.

Information rose over the first man.

[Iron Escort One: Chaos Rank Three. Battle power 31,400.]

Second.

[Iron Escort Two: Chaos Rank Three. Battle power 38,900.]

Third,

[Iron Escort Three: Chaos Rank Three. Battle power 30,200.]

Fourth.

[Iron Escort Four: Chaos Rank Three. Battle power 38,700.]

Fifth.

[Iron Escort Five: Chaos Rank Three. Battle power 33,100.]

Sixth.

[Iron Escort Six: Chaos Rank Three. Battle power 30,800.]

Seventh.

[Iron Escort Seven: Chaos Rank Three. Battle power 32,600.]

Sekhmet’s mind remained calm, but inside it was measuring danger like a merchant measuring debt.

Seven Chaos Rank Three.

Not two.

Not one.

Seven.

This was not a conversation anymore. This was an attempt to control him by force in his own building, in the aftermath of his own auction, in front of witnesses who would carry the story out into Slik City’s rumor veins.

Lily shifted beside him. She did not step forward, but her presence tightened, like she was ready to scream for guards or punch someone depending on what happened next.

The twins behind Sekhmet moved half a step forward automatically, their bodies reacting to threat with the discipline of vampires who had been taught rules before being taught mercy. Vera’s eyes sharpened. Vela’s jaw tightened.

“Master,” Vera said quietly.

“Give the order,” Vela murmured.

Sekhmet did not answer immediately.

Because his Blood Eye had caught something else.

He had assumed his side was smaller. He had assumed only the twins and Auri were his reliable combat pieces here.

Then his gaze flicked toward three young women near the side clerks’ desk — Dawn House “maids,” the fan girls who had been passing towels, carrying papers, and whispering about Sekhmet like he was a festival attraction. They had remained after the auction to assist with cleanup and transfer flow.

Sekhmet had always thought they were ordinary mortals.

He turned his Blood Eye on them.

And he froze.

[House Maid One: Chaos Rank Three. Battle power 37,900.]

His eyes snapped to the second.

[House Maid Two: Chaos Rank Three. Battle power 38,500.]

Third,

[House Maid Three: Chaos Rank Three. Battle power 36,800.]

For a breath, Sekhmet could not move. Not because he was afraid. Because his world had just grown a second hidden layer.

Three maids.

Chaos Rank Three.

Standing in his house’s auction hall like it was normal.

His mind instantly filled with questions that collided into a single pressure: How.

How did a merchant house have three Rank Three “maids.”

How he had never known. How had he never sensed it? How had Elena never mentioned it?

Had they been trained in secret while he was gone? Had his father known them? Were they spies planted long ago? Were they loyal? Were they dangerous?

But I saw them growing up. What happened in the last five years… when I was in purgatory? It is the only time I didn’t see them. Did they train at that time?

The system’s note appeared in his mind like a calm voice speaking to him, not broken into separate brackets, not cold machine fragments, but one steady statement that felt like it belonged in a real conversation.

[System Note: Your perception of these three servants was deliberately shaped. They are wearing concealment tools designed to suppress aura presence and mislead casual instinct. Your Blood Eye can see through it because of your bloodline resonance. The concealment does not confirm betrayal. It confirms preparation. Someone wanted them hidden from ordinary observation, including yours, until necessary.]

Preparation… Someone… His father… Or Elena… Or both…

Sekhmet’s questions did not vanish, but he forced them to wait. Now was not the time to interrogate ghosts. Now was the time to survive the living threat in front of him.

Dickoff’s voice cut in again, more impatient now. “You have nothing to say.”

Sekhmet looked at him calmly. “You brought seven Rank Three into my hall after an auction. That is not a question. That is an insult.”

Dickoff’s gaze remained cold. “It is a demand. Will you tell me where my son is?”

Sekhmet’s lips curved faintly, and this time the curve held mockery like a blade edge. “If your son went missing after trying to rob people, perhaps you should teach him not to rob.”

Dickoff’s escort stepped forward. It was one pace and the air tightened inside the hall.