The Almighty Dominance

Three years earlier, Alex was on his knees in the cold marble hall of the Rosenheim mansion, pressed down by a trio of chrome robots and a pale-faced servant.

The light from the chandelier carved hard lines across his face. The machines made no sound but their grips were insistently mechanical.

"Who are you, thief?" Otto Rosenheim barked, stepping forward. "Why are you trespassing on this property?"

Alex kept his chin up. "I'm Alexander Saint-Claire," he said. "Son of Logan Saint- Claire. I believe this property belongs to my family."

Otto let out a short, incredulous laugh. "You say you're the child of Logan Saint- Claire?"

"Yes." Alex's voice didn't waver. "The blood test proved it. The Prussian Government hospital ran it."

With deliberate calm, Alex tapped the three-dimensional bracelet on his wrist and the document bloomed in a pale hologram. He pushed it toward Otto.

Otto's eyes flicked over the projection as if it were a curious insect.

"So you claim the Marquis Saint-Claire's estate," he said slowly, savoring the words. "Interesting."

"Yes." Alex swallowed.

Otto's laugh was sharp and cruel, echoing through the hall like a crack of a whip.

"Maybe if Logan himself rode through that door, we'd hand it all back on a silver platter," he sneered. "But you-" he jabbed a finger at Alex, venom in his tone, “— you're half-blood, aren't you? Xia blood running through your veins."

He took a step closer, eyes burning with disgust.

"Do you even know what that means here? It makes you filth. A servant. A dog born to obey. In Prussia, your kind doesn't own land-you serve the ones who do."

His lip curled in mock pity.

"So tell me, boy, what gives you the right to stand in my house and claim anything as yours?"

Alex's jaw tightened in silence.

Otto circled him like a predator. "Listen, lad. I knew Logan once. We were close- children running over these grounds."

He paused, then smiled with the cruelty of a man offering poison. "I'll make you an offer. Marry my daughter, Katarina Rosenheim. She's the finest match in this house. Marry her, stay here, and we'll let you keep your head-and a roof."

read the motion in

those mechanics would obey another

and careful, "you'll give me Katarina if I stay.

together, the sound sharp and smug. He

the crack, voices leaked through a conversation never

men would've

sharper than ordinary, every whisper as clear as

burst out like breaking glass. "I

listen,” Otto snapped. "We are not the legal owners of the Saint-Claire lands. We care for them. We were once servants to that family. This can't last. We

marrying that-thing?" she

has no right to inherit. For him to claim the estate he must marry a Prussian woman, live under Prussian law for three years, and receive approval from a

what do you want,

voice flat as a blade. "After three full years, Katarina, you'll be legally

like a mutt - keep him in the servants' quarters, feed him kitchen scraps. He's just

dropped between them like a heavy curtain. Katarina drew a slow, steady breath, her eyes narrowing as she turned toward the door.

for the Saint-Claire property," she said, her

"Put a smile on your

make sure he's insured and that I get the payout when he's gone." Her voice was cold business, the kind that closed deals and

behind her,

on his knees in the hall, metal hands at

lucky," she said, the words a

I've always said no. You-" she laughed softly, cruel and warm at once,

next month was simple and

damp room by the garden-a space so

when spoken to, and moved through

Rosenheim household watched him like spectators at a cruel

through the servant's gate. The moon cut the garden into black

down an empty street that smelled of coal and wet

out of

in unison, their movements sharp and practiced. The oldest spoke, his voice roughened by years of smoke

"We are the Kingswell-frontline men, from Estoria to

to stop the absurdity. "We're on