Vincent van Lowenhald.

  To Jin, the name hung in the air like a thick, wet goblin fart. Everyone knew the source, wincing as they imagined the disaster the creature had eaten to produce such an attack on the senses.

  His lip curled in unadulterated disgust. It wasn't the hate of an enemy, but the weary irritation of a man watching a household surrender their senses to chase a ‘rotten’ fantasy.

  The name was alien to Jin, yet it carried a weight that anchored the others to their seats as if a deity had walked into the room. Even Old Man Sid, usually indifferent to any Player beyond his own front door, sang lyrical praises while Ironshield played the 'tone-deaf bard'. Eustace tapped the table, giving them the rhythm as Wong Ka Fei completed the quartet of fanboys, rapping whatever nonsense leaked from his foul mouth.

  Meanwhile, Elise, a newcomer of less than a month, looked at Emilia with wide, shimmering eyes. Jin watched their gears turn; the two girls were already building a fantasy where this legendary figure swept in to solve their problems, forgetting the actual work at hand.

  Tome made it worse, spewing a litany of details into Jin’s mind – focusing on Vincent’s public achievements – cluttering his thoughts with information he hadn't asked for. To add insult to the injury, the bird dared to allude that Vincent would make a better master. A perfect man, blessed by the gods. Unlike Jin. The suggestion irked him further.

  Jin sighed. “So, where’s this brother of yours, Emilia?” he asked, his voice cut through the reverie like a cold draught.

  The question flattened the room. It was the question of a man who didn't care about the fantasy, only why the table was devoid of food.

  “Wait, what? Why all that look?” Jin asked as the other stared in silence.

  “I did tell you about it back at the Chief’s house,” Ironshield said, his voice dropping the bardic tone for a moment of genuine disbelief. “Did you forget?”

  “Heh. I forget many things.” Hungry and pissed, Jin stood up. The chair scraped a harsh, shrieking note against the floor. “Despite how I look, age might be catching up with me. Remind me again.”

  He didn't wait for the answer. He walked towards the fridge, shaking his head. The table was cluttered with maps and notes, but it was devoid of real sustenance. Ironshield leaned back on his chair, gesturing for Emilia to take the floor. She spoke with a rehearsed reverence, detailing Vincent’s rise, his dual-class mastery, and the vacuum he left behind when he vanished.

  While she spoke, Jin took out a bottle of chilled beer. “So, he’s missing?” Jin asked once she finished. He let the words sit for a moment. “A Platinum-V, Level 80 Dual-Class Player, still in his peak age of twenty-seven, just... went missing?”

  Emilia nodded, her expression earnest and hopeful. She leaned forward, her eyes searching Jin’s face for the awe she expected to find there. Perhaps she saw him as the leader who would bridge the gap between their current struggles and the company he planned to build – a goal she believed her brother could accelerate.

  Jin laughed inside his head. He had seen this story many times before. And he always knew how it ended.

  “You know what I think?”

  “Yes! What is it, Frank?”

  With the beer in hand, he hooked the cap on the edge of the counter and slammed his palm down with a sharp thump. The metal gave way with a crisp clink. He then took a long, unhurried swallow of the bitter liquid.

  “I think it’s bullshit.”

  The silence that followed was different. The cheerful atmosphere vanished into an eerie vacuum. Even Ka Fei, the ever-mouthy thug, lost his words.

  “Huh?” someone – Jin didn’t care who – managed to choke out a word that broke the tension.

  “What? Don’t know what bullshit is? Cow dung. Fish crap.” Jin gestured with the bottle before taking another drink. “At least this piece of shit you call beer tastes better.”

  Emilia’s face drained of colour. With Elise urging her on, the Lowenhald’s princess swallowed a lump down her throat, summoning the courage she had to speak out.

  “W-What do you mean it’s bullshit, Frank? Y-you think I’m lying? About my own brother?”

  Jin didn't flinch. He didn't even look at her, focusing instead on the label of the beer. “Lying? Don’t know about that. But you and the others might be speaking out of your arse. Stuck in cuckoo land. All nothing but nonsense, I tell you.”

  Emilia was on the verge of tears. The insult to her brother – the man she idolised second only to her father – stung worse than a slap to her face. She gripped the edge of the table, her hands trembling. Under normal circumstances, she might have lashed out, but the memory of Jin’s strength and what he did for her kept her mouth still.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “You want to tell us why you have to say it like that?” Ironshield’s voice was low. It was a warning.

  “Yeah,” Elise snapped, placing her arm around Emilia’s shoulder. “You owe us that much, douchebag. Look at her.”

  Jin exhaled a long, weary sigh. He set the bottle down on the counter with a soft thud. “Alright. Apologies, Emilia. Everyone.” He raised a hand to placate them, though his expression remained cold. “But my words stand. It’s bullshit.”

  Ironshield, ever the pragmatist, narrowed his eyes. He watched Jin, looking for the angle their leader was playing at. “Are you not going to tell us why?”

  “I will. It’s simple,” Jin said. He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “If this Vincent van Lowenhald, the ever-godly blessed man with all the achievements, is half as strong, awesome, and marvellous as you all claim, do you think he’d go missing? Suddenly? Just like that?”

  The question hung there, the cold reasoning sapped everyone’s warmth away. The room fell into an eerie, heavy silence as the weight of Jin’s scepticism began to sink in.

  “Look,” Jin said, swirling the bitter dregs of his beer. “Compared to you folks, even Elise, who arrived here recently, I don’t know the man. His achievements, his classes, whatever. It’s all nothing but noise to me. I take your words at face value. But a man like that going missing out of nowhere? That’s a red flag.”

  “Why?” Emilia asked, her voice small. “We can find him. And when we do, he’ll be an asset to you, Frank. To the party.”

  Jin let out a dry, knowing smile. Finally, the cat was out of the bag.

  Earlier, when Tome had flooded his mind with the legend of Vincent van Lowenhald, the bird had also whispered a bit of truth.

  Emilia wasn't only praising her brother, but she was also fishing. She wanted to 'use' Jin to find him. She hadn't said it outright, and the others were too blinded by the legend to notice, but Jin saw through the fog – the tears, the puppy-dog eyes, and the desperation. But there was a second, more pressing question.

  Had Vincent actually gone missing?

  “You know what, Emilia?” Jin said, setting the bottle down. “If we want to find this brother of yours, we need to talk to your father.”

  Emilia’s downcast eyes lit up. The transformation was instantaneous. “Y-you will?” She wiped her cheeks dry, her hope rekindled.

  When Jin nodded, she stood up and jumped, hugging him with a force that almost knocked the wind out of him. The room fell into a chorus of silent expressions. Ironshield and Old Man Sid looked perplexed, while Eustace and Ka Fei wore the identical 'you-got-her-bro' grins. Elise, however, wasn't smiling. She pursed her lips, her brow furrowed in a flash of jealousy.

  “Tomorrow, first thing in the morning, we’ll meet with your father,” Jin said, peeling himself away from the hug. “Will he be available?”

  “He’s always available for me, Frank,” Emilia said with a small, triumphant giggle. “Any time of the day.”

  Once the energy died down, Jin dismissed the meeting. Ka Fei, Eustace, and a much more cheerful Emilia finally filtered out of the house, leaving a heavy silence in their wake.

  Ironshield didn't leave. He stood by the door, watching the street for a moment before turning back to Jin. “You’re planning something,” he said. “You’re not doing this out of kindness, are you?”

  The words were a statement, not a question.

  “Yeah,” Old Man Sid added as he came over and clamped a hand on Jin’s shoulder. “You’ve got that look. You don’t ask to see a Count on short notice just to help a girl find her lost brother.”

  Jin let out a bittersweet smile, the kind that reached his eyes but lacked any warmth. “Listening to your stories about this Vincent... I’m tempted to invite him. A man like that would make the company's foundation unshakable. But I need to know the truth first.”

  “What truth?” Ironshield asked.

  “He reminds me of me,” Jin said, his voice almost a whisper. “And my wife.”

  The warm summer air shifted. The two older men went still. They knew enough of Jin’s history – Elyzabeth’s ghost and her family’s politics – to understand the weight of that comparison.

  “A man like Vincent is a hot prospect.” Jin looked down the dark street where Emilia’s ride had vanished. “Much more than the princess herself. As the Lowenhald heir, every company worth its salt wants a piece of him.”

  “But Emilia said her brother hasn’t joined the family’s companies. Not yet, anyway.” Ironshield said. “So, we still got hope, right?”

  “It doesn’t matter. It won't stop rivals or, worse, his own kin from using whatever they can to keep him on a leash. Mutual benefits, coercion, manipulation, or outright blackmail."

  “So, are you worried they will do that to us? A fledgling company?”

  Jin chuckled. “You don’t strike me as the type to count the chickens before they hatch, Ironshield. But to answer your question, no. The only thing I care about is if he’s like Elyzabeth and me.”

  “You and your late wife?” Ironshield asked. “Noble politics and all?”

  Jin nodded. “Yeah. For us, we simply had enough. So, we went incognito. Escaped all that nonsense. The two of us with Eleana. In a place no one cared who we were and where we came from. Thought it could last forever.” Jin heaved a deep sigh. “And maybe Vincent is the same? Who knows?”

  Ironshield and Old Man Sid could now see what went through Jin’s mind.

  Emilia was too young, too wrapped up in her sibling worship to see the social and political intricacies. But a father? A Count who watched his son deal with the daggers behind noble smiles? The blood of the court ran thick, and if the Count was as Emilia described, he wouldn't let his dearest Vincent drift away without a reason. He would know if his son had vanished or stepped out of a game he no longer wanted to play.

  “I won’t waste my time recruiting a man who wants to stay hidden,” Jin said before gesturing at the other two to enter the house. “But if he’s out there for another reason... then we can talk. Earn myself a favour or two from the Lowenhalds.”

  “Fair enough,” Ironshield added. “We need people with the same wavelength. Else, it’ll get messy and ugly very fast. What do you think, Sid?”

  “What do I think?” Old Man Sid said with his usual sandpaper charm. “Well, here’s one. Next time, do your fucking team meetings elsewhere! My house is not a hotel! Or an office! Or your playground!”

  He pointed a shaky finger at the fridge.

  “And you better restock my beers, dammit! Especially you, Ironshield. You’re a fucking camel!”

  The tension snapped. Jin and Ironshield shared a rare, genuine laugh that echoed through the house. But it didn't stop them from ordering delivery. Jin was still hungry, Ironshield wanted to get drunk, and Old Man Sid wanted his beer stock replenished.

  Twenty minutes later, a delivery van stopped by the front door, dropping off three cartons of Old Man Sid’s favourite beer brand and five large pizzas. The three men didn't bother with plates. They sat around the kitchen table where Elise had left her notes before retiring for the night.

  “Eat and drink your fill,” Jin said, raising a slice in a mock toast. “Tomorrow, we walk into the lion’s den.”