My mother killed a man. Ever since I was born every part of my life had been affected by that incident. It determined where I grew up. My social standing was dictated by its consequences. And all of it had led me here.

To the breathing and living golem in front of me, who also claimed to be the man she had killed.

Maxemillian Gesti.

"You're the man my mother killed?" I got straight to the point.

Maxemillian looked up at me.

“I am.” He nodded. “And I'm not.”

His posture was tense as he sat, and I saw him shuffling uncomfortably under my stare.

I took a deep breath. Then I stood up, my shoes tapping against the marble floor. A twinkle of light glimmered into life as my silver bar floated around me.

My chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. A wave of confusion crashed through me, hooking its talons into my mind and heart.

Maxemillian watched me carefully.

He rubbed the back of his neck, and I could see his body tensing. He didn't know how I was going to react.

Neither did I.

I took a breath, the dust and lingering scent of neglected paintings entering my nostrils.

"You're the man my mum killed.” I repeated.

This time it wasn't a question.

The words conflicted with my mind the moment I spoke to them.

“How is that possible? Dead people stay dead.” I only knew one exception. “I'm staring at you right now. And talking to you.”

I paused.

That wasn't true. I wasn't really speaking to Maxenillian Gesti. Not technically.

This man was a golem, a construct controlled by a magician. Every patch of skin, every stray hair and each part of his body was driven by magic.

Despite knowing that, I couldn't see it by looking at him.

Maxemillian shoved his silver hair away from his face, blowing at a stray strand that persistently hung over his eyes.

"You already know I'm a golem. I can see it on your face.” He tapped his hand on the chair.

He extended a single finger and poked it into the side of the chair. A material so heavy and dense that I could barely lift it.

It cracked.

The material caved in, giving way to the golem’s finger as it pushed deeper.

"Golems require their casters to manipulate them at all times." I countered. "Does that mean the real you is alive?”

Wait. Is that true?

I didn't know the process behind creating golems, but I knew that it had to be impossible to make one after dying. That didn't mean they couldn't continue to exist if they'd been made before the caster passed away.

Or was a golem a separate being altogether?

I'd seen William’s dad manipulating his golems, but only passively. Then there were my teachers.

Tago of the earth and Tago of metal.

Both golems had different levels of elemental expertise, and slight differences in personality. I hadn't spent enough time with either of them to know if there were more differences.

"If you believe I am him, then he is alive. Personally, I don’t believe that.” Maxemillian tilted his head. “And he didn't create me. I was born after his passing. To continue his work. Both of us were.”

He gave little Bob a pat on the head.

The child looked up at him and then at me and nodded his head. He didn't seem to mind the subject matter at all if he could even understand it.

Maxemillian stood up, rubbing his hands together and giving me a kind look.

It was impossible to distinguish him from an ordinary person.

"So, you're really the man she killed? Maxemillian Gesti.” I sounded out the name slowly. "Except you're also not.”

He was a copy. A replica born of magic.

“Maxemillian Gesti died.” He nodded. "That is a fact. One that I have spent a long time reconciling myself with. And after he did, I was born.”

He folded his arms behind his back as he took a step forward toward myself and the painting. Emotions crossed his features, sadness, pride, and finally uncertainty.

This wasn't a man that wanted to harm me. At least, that wasn't what I saw in front of me.

“You have a story.” I gestured at the room. “And I have time.”

“Oho.” His eyes gleamed. “I thought you could barely spare a few minutes?”

I could see he was joking by the way his lips creased upwards.

His demeanor shifted, turning serious as his chin perked upwards and his shoulders tightened.

"For one thing, my name is not Maxemillian. Others may call me that, but I decided that wasn’t me a long time ago.” He crossed his arms. “I would be happy if you called me Bob.”

His words struck a chord in me.

It was a minor difference, but it changed my perception of him.

Bob was a strange name. It wasn't a noble name. It also didn't belong to a lineage. It was so boring it could be called common.

"Alright, Bob." I spoke.

A beaming smile spread across his face at my words, and I blinked in surprise.

The change from one moment to another was extreme. His new name meant a lot to him. I shifted to my side and let out my mana sense.

Gerial was still nearby. Everything was okay, and I had nothing but time.

"Why did you change your name?" I asked him.

I could see it meant a lot to him.

“For the same reason your name is Andross Silver.” Bob chuckled. “I follow the old traditions. Although my conversion was later in my life. Or rather, after my death.”

My head perked up at his words. The old traditions were the ones that my dad and mum followed. They’d allowed me to choose my own name, but other than that I'd never paid too much attention to them.

The reason I’d ignored them was simple. The old traditions weren't a religion, they were a way of living life.

Dietary requirements, customs and other restrictions were included. Breaking my habits that I’d had back on earth wasn't an option when I was younger, and I’d never grown into my parent’s customs.

It was tough enough trying to learn noble customs and figure out what people in this world considered to be common sense.

Bob nodded in understanding when he saw my expression.

"Your mum and I used to talk. Not just about work, but also about her life. Her beliefs.” He smiled. “I always found the old traditions boring, but the concept of choosing your own name especially appealed to me.

That is why I chose my new name when I was born. There are differences in my existence compared to what I once was. Or rather, what I never was, but remember being.”

He chuckled at his own clarification.

His mention of my mother reminded me of the person that he had been based off. A business partner to my mother, and the reason she spent her days locked away in our house.

"Why didn't you tell her?" I spoke softly.

I didn't mean to insult him, or anger him, but I needed to know.

My mum had lived secluded for years. I'd seen firsthand the emotional damage the incident had caused to her. She couldn't even speak about it all these years later. No matter how hard I’d tried to get her to.

So much of that could've been resolved if this man had simply shown up and introduced himself.

Maybe I was simplifying things, but I couldn't see it being worse.

I saw the golem’s hands curl into fists. There was a grating sound, as though stone was being pressed against stone.

"You don't think I wanted to?" Bob'a voice rose. "I have friends I’ve wanted to meet all my life. To comfort them and to cry with them. To connect with them how I used to. These people were as close to me or closer than my family.”

There was an undercurrent to his tone. Warning.

It was the closest I had gotten to seeing him angry aside from when I’d mentioned the claim.

Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. I sensed a shift in the mana around me. No spell was being cast, connection mana was moving and gathering around the man protectively.

Mana Communication.

I activated my skill and examined the mana around Bob. There were emotions from waving out in all directions.

Joy. Comfort. Protection. Hope.

They acted as all mana did, friendly and present.

Bob sighed as he took in the feelings of the mana around him, and his posture softened.

"I apologise, but my life is not as liberating as it may seem to you. My freedom extends to my name. No further.” He kneaded his shoulder, tension crossing his features. “I wasn't even allowed to choose my appearance. Maxemillian’s bloodline wasn't awakened, and his jaw wasn’t this chiseled. My body is that of a stranger. I was brought back as they wanted him to be. Nostalgia and imagination rolled into one. All I got were the memories.”

His words struck a chord in my heart.

This was a person who had no choice in what he had become, or what he could do.

“No wonder you hate claims.” The words left my mouth before I could stop them.

“I am a creation.” Bob shook his head. “There was no claiming, there was only the existence I was born into.”

I'd come here expecting resistance, but I was beginning to realise how foolish I was.

This man was the same as me.

“There was never any ambush, was there? That was all in my imagination.” I asked.

There were no men that would spring out to hold me down and force me to accept the claim. Little Bob wasn't a trap that would be sprung on me and an unsuspecting moment.

"No." He chuckled, a light smile flitting over his face. "They don't know you're here. Otherwise, they would never have let me meet you. That's why I cleared the museum."

I gazed at the empty room around me, silence falling whenever we stopped talking. I’d thought it was to isolate me, but it was to keep me safe.

His own family didn't know I was here.

"What did they think you're doing?" I asked.

A wave of curiosity brushed over my heart. If he was as helpless as he claimed to be, then I couldn't see a reason why the Gesti would close this section for him.

Bob gestured with his thumb at the painting.

"My job.” His eyes roamed over the canvas. "I have many things that I'm able to do, purely because of my brother’s lingering love. However, his one condition is that I continue to stay here.

He wanted me to finish my life's work. No. He wanted me to finish his brother's work. And the only part left was the one that only Maxemillian could complete.”

His fingers brushed the air over the painting.

My heart skipped a beat at the mention of a brother. Bob saw my hesitation and pursed his lips.

I could see from his expression that he didn't want me to ask any further questions, but I couldn't do that.

“Is your brother the person that sent me the claim?” I kept my tone steady, and calm.

I'd already resolved to ignore the claim no matter what happened. However, I also knew the value of having as much information as I could at my disposal.

"What would you do if he was?" Bob asked.

I looked at him and gazed at the claim in my inventory.

My thoughts took a step back and I examined my situation.

I was a Marked one of the Crijik.

A sense of peace washed over me.

The Gesti’s hold over me was waning, and soon it would be over. Even if this person held their grudge against my mother until I reached the age of 25 it wouldn't matter. I intended to still be alive and kicking when that time came.

“When I thought you gave me the claim, the worst I did to you was lose my temper a little.” I smiled. “So long as it doesn't impact the people around me for long, I’m strong enough to ignore some provocation.”

My words rang true, and Bob felt it. He gazed down at me, and he stroked his chin pensively.

"You have a lot of confidence. I'm not sure where it comes from, but I approve of it." He smiled.

I raised my palm and my silver rested in it.

It shifted and liquified, then reformed at my command into a replica of the claim sphere. Little Bob looked at it curiously, his eyes following its every movement as I rolled it around in my palm.

“Confidence in my success is one thing. Allowing my oppression to continue without trying to stop it is another.” I held the sphere in front of him. "Can you have the claim revoked?"

Bob raised his hand towards the sphere, and I let him hold it.

Emotions sparked through him as he held the silver. I could see that he wanted to help me, but something was holding him back.

He shook his head and tried to hand the sphere back to me.

"This man is your brother. He’ll listen to you.” I didn't take the silver back. “Even if you have a different body, he knows that your decisions are the ones that Maxemillian would make.”

Bob looked at the sphere again. Then he dropped it.

It didn't hit the ground.

I manipulated it through the air, the sphere dissolving into a tendril of silver that wrapped around me.

"Once upon a time, that may have been true.” He pursed his lips. "But that's not how it works. Day by day the magic fades more. He knows I'm not the man Maxemillian used to be.”

There was a catch in his voice that made me pause. His words were final, and there would be no arguing against them.

I wouldn't give up. I could see the claim in my inventory, where it would remain for the rest of the year or longer.

“What do you—”

My words cut off mid-sentence as I spotted a change in my inventory. It wasn't my claim.

It was my texting regent. It was glowing.

I had messages. Not just one, but two. One was from Roxxy and the other one from William.

William would only message me during an emergency.

‘Andross, what's going on over there? It's happening again. Someone is trying to connect to Roxxy.’

What?

Roxxy’s message opened up next.

‘It happened again, but it disappeared after a few seconds. I think it did something, but I don't know what. Weird, right? William is panicking.’

I spun around to face Bob.

"What's the meaning of this?” My voice cut through the air.

His eyes widened in surprise.

"You're going to have to be clearer about the subject.” He was looking at my regent curiously.

"Your household is using connection magic and trying to control my friend." My silver wrapped around my fingers. “They’ve been using it all week to puppet her body and drive her away from me. All because of this claim.”

I jabbed a finger towards him, and he took a step back. Concern flashed over his eyes and he raised his arm defensively.

“We’re talking. We’re getting along.” My voice rose. “So why are you still trying to get to her?”

Bob’s lips tightened.

“That magic isn't ours.”

What?

“What?” I repeated my thoughts out loud.

“The magic you're describing. It's not ours.” Bob held a hand up to his chest.

“I possess the ability to connect with the hearts and minds of those around me. It’s how Maxemillian painted his pictures, and how little Bob found you no matter where you went. Controlling others is possible, but it is also not an ability possessed by either of us.”

"Then your brother or another Gesti member is the cause.” I shook my head. “It can't be a coincidence.

That's the only reason I came to this meeting in the first place." My fingers curled into fists. “My friends are being targeted and I want that to stop. I can't ignore the claim if the Gesti are driving away anyone that befriends me.”

“They will not.” Bob spoke resolutely. “The Gesti household has already launched a claim against you. No more, no less. An immortal household won't stoop so low as to target unrelated children.”

"Excuse me?" My anger stopped.

A wave of dread washed over my features as I saw Bob’s expression. He genuinely didn't know what I was talking about.

"That's impossible.”

"That's the truth.” He was resolute.

The regent in my hand grew heavier as I took in his words.

I’d assumed the Gesti were threatening Amanda, or toying with her to force me to accept the claim.

The timing had fit. The location had fit. The magic was the same. But the conclusion I’d reached was wrong.

A piece of information was missing.

"If it wasn't the Gesti, then who?” The words spread across the room.

There was movement and Bob took a step towards me.

"I don't know the full situation like you do, but what if I didn't exist? If the Gesti weren’t suspects?” Bob asked. “What would have happened then?”

I raked my fingers through my hair.

“Gerial!” I bellowed. “You need to get William and Roxxy!”

Roxxy was my only lead on what was happening, and William would be able to make sense of the information.

Gerial jolted from his rest, and I saw him through my mana sense. He nodded towards me and disappeared.

"I thought it was Gesti because of the timing.” I spoke my thoughts out loud, running through the chain of events.

Bob stayed quiet, allowing me to work through my thoughts.

Amanda had left with us the day after she had been attacked at the academy.

I'd been targeted first.

I was the event organiser, and her closest friend. My anger would have caused the entire event to be cancelled.

Amanda would have been isolated.

When that didn't work. They had escalated their magic.

"Day one. Two incidents. Both were designed to look like accidents and make her look unsound and dangerous to those around her.” I tapped my side nervously.

The spells were suspicious.

In the hotel room she had seen a figure appear suddenly, just like Oubliez had. The spell was designed to trigger her trauma and provoke a reaction.

Even if she hadn't reacted badly, she would've been shaken. She would have been isolated from her friends, possibly even turning against them if she’d thought Roxxy was the caster.

From there she had only one definite course of action.

"She would have gone to her family." The realization hit me like a truck.

Whoever was doing this to her would have expected her to isolate from her friends and go home straight away.

Straight to her brother.

The only reason she hadn't left earlier was because she was safer here, in the company of two Marked ones and their guards. We were looking after her better than being alone could.

Until I’d sent her away.

“It’s the Koshima nobles.”

My heart sank.

“They’re using her to get to Alexis, and I've sent Amanda to them on a silver platter.”