Chapter 2: Silver Thread Revealed

Snow fell like a white curtain, sealing The Castle off from the rest of the world. Wind whipped up tiny shards of ice that felt like needles, pattering violently against the stone windows. Konrad stepped back into the courtyard, his boots crunching in the fresh snow. Each step pressed deep into the soft, powdery layer, leaving clear footprints that were immediately buried by the falling flake.

The wind was bitter, but it couldn't chase away the strange warmth in his chest. The heirloom Pocket Watch rested against his heart, tucked inside his shirt and coat. It was slightly hot, as if pulsing in rhythm with something waking up deep within the depths of The Castle. He took a deep breath; the air was thick with the sharp, clean smell of ice mixed with the smoky scent of burning pine.

In the early morning, sunlight sliced through the venetian blinds of the floor-to-ceiling windows at the Zurich International Art Appraisal Center, casting striped patterns of light and shadow across the climate-controlled exhibition hall. The air smelled of coffee and old paper—a mixture unique to high-society gatherings, expensive and distant. Marcus wore a perfectly tailored custom suit and entered the room with his usual arrogance.

The heels of his leather shoes clicked sharply against the marble floor. He nodded politely to a few old acquaintances, then turned to face the highly sought-after ancient coin. His voice rang out, loudly declaring that the coin came from a royal hoard, was worth a fortune, and could support the Castle family's expenses for the next half-century.

The whispers around the room instantly died down. Every eye focused on the object, filled with both desire and caution.

Through the sight of the Pocket Watch, the internal material structure of the coin was crystal clear. It wasn't solid pure silver. Instead, a thin layer of silver skin wrapped around a grey-black lead core. Cracks spread like spider webs at the microscopic level, and the plating had unnatural peeling marks on the edges. Those were flaws left by high-temperature welding, not the natural oxidation of age.

Konrad pulled his gaze away and gently placed the coin into a velvet pouch, locking it into a hidden compartment of his desk. His eyes were cold and deep; there was no joy of victory, only the patience of a hunter. Outside, the wind and snow intensified. The heavy, slow ticking of The Castle's clock echoed through the hall, striking the family's last shred of dignity.

Every tick sounded like a countdown, pointing toward the moment when everything would collapse.

Konrad stood up. His footsteps were starkly clear in the silence, breaking the surface calm. He walked to the display stand without Marcus's flashy body language, simply opening his mouth with a calm, steady voice. He pointed out that the coin's weight was far lower than the density of a standard silver coin.

He raised the Pocket Watch. Instead of showing the face, he used the watch's unique optical refraction to project the coin's internal structure onto the white wall behind him. It was a clear cross-section diagram. The outline of the lead core was distinct, contradicting everything Marcus had said about it being pure silver.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees instantly. The easy conversation cut off abruptly. Countless eyes focused on the projection on the wall, the air filled with a disbelief that was almost shocking.

Konrad, the unexpected guest of honor as The Castle's heir, sat in the shadow of a corner, clutching the warm Pocket Watch. The surrounding light was a bit blinding; he squinted, looking through the watch's crystal to double-check the distribution of the lead core inside the ancient coin.

Marcus's performance was nearing its end. He was waiting for the bankers to nod in approval, as if the fake coin was already his prize. Marcus's gaze swept the room and finally locked onto Konrad. His eyes carried a clear message of suppression: keep silent, don't ruin this carefully planned show.

Konrad just watched, his fingers gently stroking the edge of the Pocket Watch. The cool metal contrasted sharply with his racing heartbeat.

Sophia sat on a high-backed chair in the side row, wearing a deep blue suit. Her hair was pinned up in a flawless bun, not a single strand out of place. She wasn't part of the discussion; she just looked down, taking notes on her tablet, the faint sound of her fingertips sliding across the screen barely audible.

Her gaze was cold and pragmatic, like a precise instrument evaluating the risks and returns behind this transaction. Clara, acting as the academic advisor, stood by the display stand. She described the coin's circulation background and inscription meanings in a smooth, restrained tone, deliberately avoiding the sensitive topic of the material's authenticity.

This silence served as a subtle red flag to the professionals present. The air felt frozen, with only the low hum of the air conditioning filling the space.

He pushed open the door to the study. The charcoal fire hadn't died out; the residual warmth lingered in the air, carrying the scent of burning pine. The flames in the fireplace licked at the black bricks, occasionally popping with a quiet snap. The ancient coin that Marcus had sent for repair sat forgotten in the corner of the table, lying alone. Its silver light was dull, looking lifeless under the dim yellow lamp.

Konrad ignored the unwashed glasses and walked straight to the table, lightly touching the coin with his fingertips. The cold sensation traveled up his hand, but the Pocket Watch in his grip was still burning hot. The watch lid sprang open automatically. Through the transparent crystal, the world looked different—colors stripped away, leaving only the exposed structure.

Marcus's face changed instantly. First came panic, then he tried to deny it with his experience and credentials, claiming it was some rare alloy craftsmanship. Konrad didn't argue. He calmly requested an independent on-site X-ray scan. It was a reasonable request that couldn't be refused.

Moments later, the scanner screen lit up. The data clearly showed the existence of the internal lead core. The evidence was ironclad, undeniable. Under the looks of disdain and pity, Marcus awkwardly adjusted his cuffs and hurriedly left the room.

His back looked hunched, as if he had aged ten years in a single night. And the reputation of The Castle family had a tear ripped through it at this exact moment.

Sophia smiled. It was a refined, cold expression, like a freshly sharpened surgical scalpel.

"Mr. Konrad, you have the ability to see into the past. That's your talent, but the market doesn't pay for talent. It pays for liquidity. Every ancient coin and every scroll in The Castle is just unsold inventory in the eyes of the bank. And I can turn that into cash. What you call 'looting' is actually a swap.

You are trading a portion of your ownership for the blood needed to keep living. Otherwise, when the tariff storm hits next month, The Castle will become a dead city, and you will be the only gravedigger left among the ruins."

Konrad didn't respond immediately. Instead, he held the gold-embossed business card between his fingers, his thumb rubbing the raised family crest. The texture was cold and hard, just like the scrutinizing look in Sophia's eyes now. He didn't nod or shake his head. He just looked down at the old Pocket Watch in his palm.

The watch cover grew warm under his skin. That familiar sting from the future washed over him again, accompanied by a chaotic background noise only he could hear—the whisper of countless timelines intertwining, signaling an incoming storm.

The chime from the end of the hallway rang out again. This time, it wasn't long and cold; it carried a hair-raising heaviness, as if coming from the deep earth, striking the thousand-year-old foundation of The Castle.

Konrad looked at the card in his hand and realized he hadn't just accepted a contract. He had picked up a bomb capable of detonating the entire European financial world and its historical secrets.

Sophia was just the one pressing the detonator. Or perhaps she wasn't even the one pulling the switch at all—she was just a piece placed there to wait for his signature.

Konrad gripped the Pocket Watch. The scratches on the metal casing dug into his palm, causing a piercing pain. He could see the exact moment the lead core in Marcus's coin formed. He could see the dust, hidden by age, dancing in the air. But he couldn't foresee the complex web of interests behind Sophia's bank.

Her argument was logically tight and airtight, yet it carried an unsettling certainty. That certainty was more frightening than uncertainty because it meant she had already calculated everything, including his struggle and his eventual surrender.

As the sound of Sophia's high heels faded into the shadows of the long corridor, Konrad was left alone. Outside, the night over Zurich was deep. The surface of the Rhine River reflected the dazzling lights of the financial district on the other bank. Those points of light looked like countless eyes, coldly watching this ancient castle.

He looked down at the Pocket Watch. The hands on the dial seemed to move a bit slower than usual. Each tick felt like it was striking his nerves.

He needed to make a choice. But before deciding, he had to confirm if Sophia truly had all the answers. Or if she had missed something. Konrad closed his eyes and forced himself to summon that sight-clearing ability that nearly burned his mind.

This time, he didn't look at Marcus's coin. He projected his consciousness toward where Sophia had just been standing, toward the card he had tucked into his inner pocket.

The sensation of rewinding time shot through his body like an electric current. He saw the moment just before Sophia handed over the card. He saw the paper gleam with a strange color in the light. It wasn't ordinary gold-leafing. Deep within the paper's fibers, a faint hue of blood from the future—one that hadn't fully coagulated yet—was seeping through. It wasn't a symbol of finance. It was the mark of something far more primitive and dangerous.

The Pocket Watch suddenly vibrated violently, emitting a sharp hum that nearly made it fly from his hand. Konrad clamped down on it hard, gasping for air, sweat soaking his shirt. He opened his eyes. The surface of the business card in his hand, once smooth, seemed to be undergoing a subtle change. The still golden paper appeared to breathe, rising and falling slightly, like a nightmare in the process of hatching.

"Thirty percent equity swap, plus an annual financial advisory fee of two and a half percent." Konrad's voice was soft but unusually clear, echoing slightly in the empty corridor. "Miss Sophia, this isn't just expensive. It's plunder. You're turning The Castle into a shell company, draining its true historical value, leaving only an expensive symbol."

Sophia stopped walking but didn't turn around. She just tilted her head slightly, as if listening to a distant bell. "Smart. But that's all it is. My legal team will arrive at The Castle tomorrow morning. If you refuse, I'll have to consider freezing all of The Castle's cultural assets through legal channels to prevent 'asset outflow risk.' At that point, it won't be a swap. It will be enforcement."

She turned and walked toward the floor-to-ceiling window at the end of the corridor, her back to