Seeing the weird-looking man's departing back, Damian sighed in relief. However, the relief was short-lived as he felt a fierce gaze boring into his own back. Damian knew who it was even before he turned around. He did so slowly, keeping his gaze fixed on the wooden floor and avoiding her eyes.

"Leave us," she said coldly.

Everyone began to exit the room. Besides Damian and the commander, only three others had remained after Lord Tristan left, with the order the last three also left. Damian tried to sneak away too but found himself unable to move freely. Her aura control weighed heavily on his small shoulders, making each step feel like an immense burden, That was just crazy aura control now... Wasn't she a mage..? He continued walking though, doing his best to ignore the oppressive weight, but it only grew heavier until his feet dug into the wooden floor, forcing him to stop.

With no other choice, he turned around and faced her beautiful, yet annoyed, expression.

"What are you playing at here?" she demanded.

"Uhm... Sorry about that..." Damian muttered.

"Why would you suggest such an absurd idea? Is that what you want us to do? Waste our time?" she asked, her tone serious.

"It just randomly came to my mind, okay? I am not a spy... Not that you'll believe me..." Damian replied.

"Everything you say contradicts your claims of not being a spy. You have knowledge about third-rankers that can only be acquired in the midst of battle or by staying close to one. Maybe I should just kill you right here and be done with it."

"Haha... That's the proud noble style I thought you lacked... Found something different, or difficult to explain, Let's chop its head off..." Damian knew he shouldn't provoke her further. He should have tried harder to manipulate her and be whatever she wanted him to be. But it felt too dishonest; it wasn't something she wanted him to do.

'Huh? Since when did I started caring what she wants? Why does it feel like I want her approval so badly? I want to be cute with her, be with her, serve her...'

"What did you do to me? The vines... They manipulate my thinking. You want me to serve you? Obey your every command?" Damian felt horrified by the implication that she could affect his mind so much. Could she really have seen his memory and said nothing?

"The vines? What do you mean?" She seemed genuinely surprised, but Damian didn't buy her act at all.

He forced himself to stay silent, knowing that anything he said could endanger his survival. The situation left him with little hope for the future. She kept him around because she knew she could make him talk, which was just another form of torture—providing him with food and a place to sleep, giving him a false sense of security so he would think more freely and trust her more as a captive.

"You think you can just choose not to speak, and I will stop asking? You think you have a choice in this matter? You joined the army to serve, right? Then serve me," she said, each word threatening him, yet he wanted to hear more of her silvery voice.

'No, focus... Control yourself...'

"You are just a kid. I have a kingdom to protect. Do not think for a second that you matter." Her icy gaze, surrounded by thick menacing mana from her throne-like chair, felt like his worst nightmares come alive.

She was a devil. If he lied, she could tear him apart like a piece of paper. Maybe he should tell her everything and beg for forgiveness and mercy.

'No... It's fear. She's controlling my fear. Resist, fool. This is not real. No matter how great, it's just another spell...'

Damian needed to do something. He brought his right hand to his mouth and bit his finger, slumping onto the wooden floor under him. The aura crushing his shoulders made it easier to touch the wooden surface with his fingertips. He had to draw something useful. The mana in his blood wasn't potent enough for long spells, and wood wasn't a good medium.

Lady Vidalia watched as Damian drew a circle, filling the structure with runes and numbers, divided in various sections, connecting them with a web and bleeding on every line. At last, a glowing black runic circle rose from his messily created blood circle, covering his whole body in a transparent box. It was too weak and wouldn't last even 15 seconds, but it was a relief—a brief respite to reset his mind. As expected, she could not continue her assault with the barrier. His mind felt lighter, clarity finally returning to him. The vines around his body also felt a bit loosened. Damian tried reaching for his mana, but even weakened, the vines blocked all his attempts to reclaim it.

When the 15 seconds ended, the box dissipated into thin air. Damian breathed heavily almost out of oxygen, looking up to find the commander standing inches away from his face, staring down at him with her unblinking, ice-cold gaze. The load on his mind returned, deep fear creeping in. The shadow that had seemed clear a moment ago now felt alive, as if dark, thorny vines were emerging from it and grabbing his limbs one by one...

'It's not real. It's not real. It can not be real...'

She gestured with one hand, whispering something under her breath. Real tangible green vines emerged from the wooden floor, lifting him up to her eye level.

"WHAT IS YOUR TRUE IDENTITY?"

A horrifying, deep grumbling voice echoed in his mind and in the room at the dame time as his mouth moved on its own, his mind having no control over it. His breaths grew shorter, and his heart raced faster and faster. He couldn't stop his own actions.

"Ben Carter – An orphan from St. Williams Parish Church, from Michigan..."