The powerful Stratton family, a tech industry titan, claimed I was their long-lost son.

They brought me back from my remote mountain sanctuary.

However, when I arrived, my father accused me of peddling superstition and called me a fraud.

My adopted brother, the false heir, spread rumors that I was practicing dark magic and cursing the family.

My uncle sided with him. He put on a serious face as he warned me. “Ethan, the Stratton family built this empire on technology. If you insist on this occult nonsense, you’ll leave us with no choice but to disown you!”

Confronted with their ignorant ridicule and malicious setup, I felt the urge to roll my eyes.

I thought. “Whoever said I came back to reconnect? I came down from that mountain to save your lives! Are you really too blind to see everything is about to come crashing down in your family?”

I was wearing the hand-sewn ritual cloak my mentor, Joel Whuzmarc, made for me when a luxury sedan escorted me to the Stratton mansion.

When the door opened, I saw a middle-aged man standing at the entrance with a frown.

That was my biological father, Ted Stratton, a man I had never met before.

“That’s what you chose to wear after coming back down from the mountain?”

He sized me up with unconcealed disgust in his eyes.

“What a disgrace! Go get changed now!”

Before I could say anything, a young man in a smart suit, who looked about my age, walked over with a glass of red wine in his hand.

“Dad, take it easy. He just got back. He needs time to adjust.”

He raised his glass toward me in a mock toast. His smile was bright, though his eyes were filled with cold contempt.

“Welcome home, Ethan. I’m Mason Stratton.”

Suddenly, he seemed to stumble. His red wine splattered the leather satchel I held against my chest.

The dark liquid soaked through the ritual parchment Joel had drawn for me.

It was the first protective charm Joel had painstakingly prepared for the Stratton family.

“Oops. I’m sorry, Ethan. It was an accident.”

Mason apologized, but there was a smug grin on his face.

I looked at him quietly.

Ted waved his hand dismissively.

“Enough. It’s just a ragged old satchel and some worthless scribbles. What’s the big deal? Let’s get something straight, Ethan. This is the Stratton home, not your occult shack. I want you to put away all that bogus psychic nonsense!”

The butler led me to a small attic room in the farthest corner of the third floor.

It was cramped. It only contained a bed and a desk. It was more like a storage closet than a bedroom.

I opened the soaked leather satchel. The ritual parchment inside was ruined. The carefully inked sigil had blurred into black smudges.

The first protective charm for the Stratton family had been destroyed by their own hands before I even stepped through the door.

I looked out the window at the glittering city lights, then down at my out of place ritual cloak.

I thought to myself. “Fine, since you’re determined to see me as a clueless fraudulent psychic, I’ll play the part then. Let’s see how long your perfect lives last without this charm. After all, that mass of thick, pure dark energy hanging over your heads is no joke.”

I did not touch the designer clothes hanging in the wardrobe.

Instead, I remained in my rough, hand-sewn ritual cloak.

The attic might have been tiny, but at least it was quiet.

I set my suitcase in the corner as a makeshift altar. Then, I put three white warding candles into a small dish and lit them.

Whether they believed it or not, the energy in this house was totally chaotic. If I did not stabilize it soon, something bad was going to happen.

I had just lit the candle when the door slammed open with a violent bang.

Mason stood there with our father, Ted. He pointed at me with feigned, dramatic concern.

“Dad, look! I told you he was being weird and creepy. What the hell is he doing in here?”

When Ted saw the small candle setup, his expression turned livid in an instant.

He stormed into the room and kicked my altar over.

The white candles skidded across the floor. The wax spilled across the wood.

“Ethan Stratton!” He jabbed a finger toward my face while his body shook with rage.

“What did I tell you? Instead of studying, instead of doing anything real or scientific, you chose to become a con artist! Do you really think this is something to be proud of?”

Looking at the mess on the floor, there was not a ripple of emotion inside me.

“I was trying to bless our family.”

“Bless?” Ted snorted, as if he had just heard the most absurd thing in the world.

His eyes locked onto the pocket of my ritual clock, where the end of a braided black cord peeked out.

His hand darted into my pocket and roughly pulled out a clear-quartz pendant.

It was a protective relic Joel had bestowed upon me when I left. The crystal was flawless and almost luminous. Its facets were carved with intricate banishment sigils.

“Did you plan to bless us with this?” Ted held the pendant up to his face, which was full of contempt.

“What is this, some one-dollar junk you bought from a street vendor? Do you really think it’s special?”

I kept my eyes on the quartz and flatly said, “It can deflect one fatal omen.”

“Ha!” Ted let out an enraged laugh. “A fatal omen? You’re not a psychic, you’re just a delusional loser!”

With that, he raised his hand and hurled the clear-quartz pendant to the floor.

Crack!

A crystalline snap echoed in the small room.

The pendant shattered into pieces.

I could feel the last trace of protective energy within it dissipating into nothing.

I looked down at the fragments, then at my enraged father and Mason, who was enjoying the show.

The last fragile thread of familial feeling in my heart snapped along with the crystal.

The final sliver of affection I had left for this family shattered right along with that pendant.

He had no idea that what he had just shattered was not merely a piece of quartz, but the life force of my grandfather, Arthur Stratton.

Forget it.

Some people only understood lessons when they came with consequences.

Thanks to Mason’s efforts, the news that the Stratton family had a fraud-psychic for a son quickly spread through their entire social circle.

I became the running joke of the entire rich-kid social circle.

A few days later, the family hosted a formal dinner for business associates.

I was ordered into a suit and seated at the far end of the table.

During the meal, my uncle, William Stratton, suddenly spoke up with a chuckle.

“Ethan, I heard you picked up some skills during your time in the mountains. Why don’t you show us something? Maybe read someone’s fortune?”

William was Ted’s younger brother and a senior executive in the company. He looked friendly.

However, I could see the greed and malice in his eyes. He was much more vicious than Mason.

Mason jumped in immediately and pushed me into the spotlight.

“Yes, Ethan, show us what you can do.”

Every eye in the room fixed on me.

A woman, dressed in revealing clothes, draped over Mason. She pressed her fingertips to her forehead and cooed dramatically. “Hey, wonder-boy psychic. I’ve had these awful headaches lately. Why don’t you read my aura?”

I glanced at her.

Her aura looked deceptively bright on the surface, but underneath it was dull, clouded. The relationship markers around her energy field were smudged and dark.

Those were classic signs of toxic romantic entanglements and a destabilized pregnancy aura.

I did not elaborate. I simply pulled a warding charm on a piece of ritual parchment that I had drawn earlier from my pocket and handed it to her.

“Keep this on you. It will help.”

She took the parchment with a look of distaste. After a subtle nod from Mason, she tucked it into her clutch purse.

I thought that would be the end of it.

However, that very night, the woman was rushed to the hospital, violently ill.

She immediately claimed it was the parchment I gave her. She accused me of “poisoning” her.

Mason and William seized the opportunity and fanned the flames at home.

“Dad, look at what he’s done! He’s trying to hurt people! How could someone this twisted stay under our roof?”

“Ted, this is a serious stain on the family’s reputation. This needs to be dealt with decisively. Otherwise, if this gets out, the Stratton name will be a laughingstock.”

Ted looked like he was about to have an aneurysm from the rage.

He pointed a trembling finger at me. He struggled to form words before finally roaring one command. “Scram!”

I was locked back in the attic and forbidden from seeing anyone.

Ted probably thought calling the police would be too humiliating.

I sat in the dark room, unnervingly calm.

Fine by me. We would see just how spectacularly stupid this family could get.

They kept me confined for three days.

On the third day, I was summoned downstairs for dinner. The atmosphere at the table was icy.

William placed a piece of meat in my bowl. Then, he asked with feigned concern, “Ethan, have you thought things through up there? Maybe this place just isn’t for you. How about I give you some money, and you can return to the mountains?”

Mason did not bother to hide his scorn.

“Aren’t you a shameless con artist? I’d lose my appetite from the guilt if I were you.”

As he said that, he reached out to snatch the leather satchel resting on my lap.

I did not even look up. My wrist flicked.

A slender steel pin soundlessly slipped between my fingers and swiftly sank into his forearm.

“Ah!”

Mason cried out in pain. His entire arm went numb in an instant and dropped limply to his side. He could not even hold his fork.

He stared at me in terror, as if he had seen a ghost.

“What... What did you do to me?”

I ignored him and turned my gaze to the middle-aged man sitting across from me, Mr. Danson. He was the father of the “poisoned” woman.

I said calmly, “Mr. Danson, your daughter wasn’t poisoned. She’s pregnant. The illness was a reaction to the pregnancy being unstable.”

A sudden expression of shock rippled across Mr. Danson’s face.

I then turned to William, who was staring at me in stunned silence.

I fixed my gaze on his head.

“Uncle William, your aura is collapsing into a dark spiral. A violent spike is forming above you. Before midnight, you’re heading straight for a serious, possibly bloody accident. My advice for you is not to drive tonight. And stay away from anything sharp or metallic.”

“Nonsense!” William snapped with a dark expression. “You insolent little brat!”

Mr. Danson was already on his feet. He shot me a look of sheer disbelief before hurrying from the dining room to make a phone call.

Ted stayed stone-faced the entire time, silent.

The dinner basically fell apart after what I said.

Mason’s arm did not regain any sensation even by the end of the dinner. He had to be helped back to his room, which was a pathetic sight.

I took my time to finish the food on my plate.

Good.

I simply wondered if they would still have the nerve to shout at me like that when the real storm finally hit.

Things proved me right even sooner than I expected.

By the next day, news had spread all over the social circuit that Mr. Danson’s daughter was, in fact, pregnant. Unwilling to tell her family, she had been taking unauthorized medication, which destabilized the pregnancy.

Mr. Danson called the Stratton family himself. While he did not say it explicitly, his tone was laden with gratitude and an unspoken apology directed at me.

Suddenly, all those people who had mocked and doubted me were no longer as certain.

That night, William was driving home when a black cat darted across his path. Swerving to avoid it, he lost control and crashed into a roadside barrier.

A piece of decorative metal dislodged from the steering wheel and cut his face.

It had been exactly midnight.

The blood omen had come to pass.

Ted was more enraged than ever. He stormed into my attic with bloodshot eyes.

“You! This is your doing! You jinx! Security! Get him out of my house! Now!”

He pointed at the door and gave a final order of expulsion.

A profound calm settled over me.

Some people really had ignorance carved into their bones.

I did not resist as two large security guards seized me by the arms and began dragging me out.

Just as one of my feet was about to cross the threshold of the mansion, Ted’s personal assistant stumbled through the door in a panic. He said in a trembling voice, “M–Mr. Stratton, we have a problem! Our core company servers have crashed! All at once!

Ted’s expression fell. “What? Where’s the tech team? Tell them to fix it immediately!”

The assistant looked on the verge of tears. “They’re all stumped, sir! They can’t find any hardware failures or software bugs. It’s as if... As if the whole system’s been hexed!”

Almost at the same moment, the helper’s panicked scream came from upstairs.

“Mr. Arthur! Mr. Arthur has collapsed! His pulse… He barely has a pulse!”

Ted staggered as if he had been struck. His face turned pale.

His company was his life’s work. Arthur was the father he revered.

The two pillars of his world were crumbling simultaneously without warning.

He was overwhelmed and stunned. He muttered to himself, “How is this happening? It doesn’t… It doesn’t make sense.”

I pulled free from the guards’ grip. Then, I turned around and walked up to him.

Looking at his devastated face, I asked with a measured tone, “Now… Are you still going to put all your faith in science?”