SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant Chapter 635: Demonstration

Even after everything Trafalgar said, Esmond was clearly thrown off.

For the first time since entering Matteo's house, that pleasant rot in his voice lost part of its rhythm. Trafalgar du Morgain should not have known he was alive. He should not have known his name, his work, his past, or enough about him to come with questions already prepared. A student of the Academy, an heir of House Morgain, appearing from behind Matteo's walls was not a coincidence anyone sane would accept.

Matteo was the first to speak, because his patience had finally cracked under the weight of too many impossible things arriving at once.

"Wait, wait, wait. What is happening right now?" Matteo's cane struck the floor as he turned toward Selara. "Trafalgar du Morgain? Why is he here? Selara, do you have anything you would like to explain before this room becomes even more absurd?"

Selara did not move from her place near the table. Her attention remained on Esmond, but her answer went to Matteo.

"Yes. I wanted to see my master because of Trafalgar. There are things we need to discuss with him."

Matteo stared at her as if she had handed him a knife by the blade and expected thanks.

"May I know what an heir of the Eight Great Families wants from Esmond?" he asked, each word gathering more suspicion than the last. "Actually, forget that. How do you even know he is alive? Almost no one should know that, and if you have been searching for him from the start, that means you already knew before coming here."

Matteo was asking good questions.

Annoyingly good questions.

Esmond seemed to agree, because his surprise folded back into curiosity. The old man's mouth curved again, though the expression no longer carried the same ease as before.

"Yes," Esmond said. "Exactly what my dear friend Matteo asked. How do you know all of this, Trafalgar du Morgain? If you sought me with such dedication, I think I can permit myself some curiosity. If you want to speak with me, surely I deserve a proper answer."

Trafalgar turned slightly toward Caelum.

Caelum understood at once. Things could go bad in a breath, and Trafalgar wanted him ready before the first spark found dry wood. Caelum's posture did not change in any obvious way, yet the air around him tightened with preparation. His attention moved to Selara next, giving her the same warning without a word. Selara caught it. Her hand drifted behind her back, fingers already positioned to summon one of her pistols if Esmond made the wrong kind of movement.

Trafalgar began speaking before Matteo could press again.

"Esmond, the reason I know about you is Director Selara. I gave her a sample of something and asked her to help me understand it. The answer she gave me was that only one person could create something like that." His voice remained even, but the room followed every syllable. "That person was you. So I needed to find you."

Matteo's attention cut toward him. "Something only he could create?"

Trafalgar nodded. "That is how I learned you existed. Since then, I have also heard parts of your past, enough to understand what kind of man you were. I heard more just now from behind the wall, so I have some idea of your personality as well."

Esmond chuckled faintly. "A rude education, but an efficient one."

"I have a question," Trafalgar said. "What is someone involved in a war doing alive when he should have been dead more than a century ago?"

The room changed.

Matteo did not understand the question immediately. War? Which war? What involvement? Selara's hand remained behind her, her fingers closing around the mana pattern she would need. Trafalgar's own hand slid behind him, ready to call Maledicta into his grip. Caelum kept both hands inside his coat pockets, the kind of harmless posture that made a man like him more dangerous rather than less. Matteo's mind caught up piece by piece.

War.

Morgain.

A sample only Esmond could have shaped.

The last war.

House Morgain had been involved in that. Everyone with ears knew that much. Yet if Trafalgar was here, if Selara had recognized something, if Esmond had truly been connected to that matter, then the situation had just crawled beyond old crimes, old laboratories, and one forbidden homunculus.

Esmond had been involved.

That was not supposed to be known.

Esmond's expression confirmed enough before he spoke.

For a breath, the room saw the old man beneath the mask. No fondness. No mockery. Only calculation, cold and immediate, cutting through exits, distances, bodies, walls, the homunculus beside him, and the four people now turning his reunion into a trap.

"Well," Esmond said at last, "I believe I may finally have to demonstrate my masterpiece."

The homunculus moved.

The small elven vessel did not lunge, growl, or reveal anything theatrical. That might have been easier to stomach. Instead, mana began to gather inside her body with terrible discipline. It did not spill from her like ordinary power. It threaded through her channels, rising beneath pale skin in thin luminous lines, each one answering an internal structure too precise to be instinct. The gray cloth shifted with the pressure. Her white hair lifted slightly from her shoulders. The floor wards responded with a strained hum.

She was strong.

Far stronger than anything wearing that fragile shape had any right to be.

Matteo's face lost its color.

Esmond's voice softened, almost apologetic, which made it worse. "I do not know how you learned that, Trafalgar du Morgain, but I fear I dislike the direction of this meeting. I would prefer to leave before anything unfortunate happens."

09:05

Maledicta appeared in Trafalgar's hand.

The sword manifested without ceremony, dark and familiar, its weight sliding into his grip as if it had been waiting just beneath the skin of the world. He angled it low, not attacking yet, but denying the room any peaceful exit.

At the same time, Selara's pistol appeared in her hand, pointed directly at Esmond. Her face held none of the trembling rage from before. That had burned down into something steadier and far more dangerous.

Caelum's daggers came out last.

One in each hand, quiet and narrow, their edges catching the light with a promise that did not need decoration.

Matteo stood between too many revelations, too many weapons, and the homunculus gathering mana beside the man he had helped capture more than a century ago.

For once, he looked frightened.

Esmond smiled as if the fear pleased him.

The homunculus raised her head.