The sun had begun to rise, slowly pushing back the darkness with its blinding light. A warm golden hue spread across Velthoria like a blanket, seeping through every crack and opening it could find.

  Sunlight poured through the window of an old stone building, gradually illuminating its interior. As it crept past the kitchen, the light revealed a small but well-organized space, neatly arranged utensils and cookware scattered throughout.

  Farther in, a modest entryway came into view. It was tidy, with several pairs of shoes placed neatly on shelves close to the floor, and a few hanging from hooks above.

  As the morning light continued its path, it reached the living room. There, a simple couch and a small round table rested in the center of the room. Lush green plants stood at the windowsill, healthy and clearly well cared for.

  Near the center of the room, beside the table, three figures sat motionless on the floor. A father, a mother, and a son. The father held their heads gently against his chest, his face buried in the mother’s hair. His expression was hidden, but now and then, a hoarse, broken sob escaped him. Quiet, raw, and spaced far apart, like echoes in an empty room.

  Aven had carried his son into the living room, laying him beside his mother. After that, he had simply sat there, clutching them, crying through the entire night. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken. It was only when the morning light began to gently wash over him that he stirred, the warmth breaking through the numb haze that had consumed him.

  Slowly, he lowered their heads from his chest, placing them side by side with care, before rising shakily to his feet. His face was pale, streaked with the dried trails of countless tears. His hair was a mess, and he looked as if he had aged years in a single night.

  He stood there for a long time, staring down at them, lying motionless on the floor. They looked just as they always had—peaceful, familiar—but this time their faces were pale, and their chests no longer rose and fell. He wanted to believe they were simply sleeping, to lie to himself just a little longer. But he knew better.

  Eventually, he turned and walked toward the door. Stepping out onto the street, he moved in a direction he knew all too well. His face was blank, drained of life. He looked less like a man, and more like a corpse set in motion.

  He passed houses, shops, and parks as he walked. Passersby couldn’t help but glance his way, casting curious and concerned looks, but he paid them no mind. His thoughts were empty. Numb.

  As time went on, the buildings around him grew fewer, gradually replaced by slender birch trees with pale bark swaying gently in the breeze. Eventually, even the trees began to thin out, giving way to open fields.

  To his left stretched a vast meadow, an endless sea of grass reaching as far as the eye could see. To his right, a massive lake shimmered in the sunlight, the rippling surface glittering like a reflection of the night sky.

  Up ahead, a tall white marble wall gradually came into view, stretching outward on both sides, extending deep into the meadows, so far that Aven couldn’t see where it ended. On the lake side, it extended about a hundred meters into the water before coming to an abrupt stop.

  Soon, a massive black metal gate appeared. Set into each of the twin doors was an identical, intricately crafted image, forged in dark iron by a clearly skilled hand. The design was unmistakable. Two lions locked in combat, their bodies tangled in spiked thorns, both bleeding as they fought for their lives.

  It was the crest of the Valthorne family. A symbol every citizen of the city would recognize.

  Upon passing through the gate, he was met with countless sculpted bushes shaped into animals, historical figures, and elegant forms simply pleasing to the eye. Ponds and trees were scattered throughout the area, each one clearly placed with intention. A network of narrow walkways stretched out like a spiderweb across the open space beyond the gate. It could easily overwhelm someone visiting for the first time, but Aven moved through it with ease. He had walked these paths more times than he could count.

  After traversing the grounds for about fifteen minutes, his destination finally came into view. A majestic mansion built from white stone stood tall and imposing, its presence both elegant and daunting. In front of the main entrance was a large roundabout, and at its center rested a pristine pond filled with koi fish, each one marked by distinct, vibrant patterns, as if carefully chosen to belong there.

  He didn’t waste a second admiring the grandeur. He walked straight to the doors and threw them open. As they swung wide, movement inside the mansion came to a brief halt. All eyes turned to the entrance. The moment they recognized him, a subtle tension swept through the room. Servants straightened and bowed with practiced elegance.

  Even though Aven had tried to distance himself from his noble lineage, the truth remained. He was still the firstborn son of the family head. That alone placed him far above the maids, servants, and staff working under the Valthorne estate. Out of duty and tradition, they were expected to show respect as he entered.

  He didn’t acknowledge them. With steady steps and a cold expression, he moved through the mansion. He knew every turn, every hall. This had once been his home. Along the way, more staff noticed him and bowed, but he kept his eyes forward.

  Soon, he arrived in front of a pair of tall, dark brown double doors. The family crest was engraved deeply into the wood. Aven stopped for a moment, then reached out and pushed the doors open.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  As he stepped through the door, a wave of warm air greeted him, thick with the scent of old paper and books. The room was quiet, dimly lit by the soft glow of lanterns. At the far end, a massive desk made of dark oak stood firmly in place. Behind it sat a middle aged man with broad shoulders, calmly signing documents. A small, neat stack of papers rested beside him, waiting their turn.

  “Father.”

  Aven blurted out the moment he entered the room, his voice shaky and uneven. For the first time in a long while, some color had returned to his face as he called out for his father.

  Vael glanced up briefly, his deep blue eyes as icy as ever, expression unreadable. Without a word, he turned his attention back to the papers on his desk.

  “For what do I owe the pleasure, Aven?”

  “Please, help me. I’m begging you. I’ll come back, I’ll marry into another noble family—anything. Just help me. Please.”

  Vael was slightly taken aback by the desperation in Aven’s voice. Come back to the family? After all these years of trying to break free? None of it made sense.

  He finally set down his pen and gave Aven his full attention. He had been deeply displeased by his son's decision to marry a mortal, but Aven was still his son. More than that, he was the rightful heir of the family. He couldn't be allowed to wander the city looking like a living corpse, dragging the family name through the mud.

  "Calm down, and tell me what you need help with."

  Aven let out a breath of relief. At the very least, he was being acknowledged. He had not spoken to his father in over a year and had no idea how he would be received. He sank into the chair in front of the desk and began to explain everything that had happened.

  The moment he mentioned his family—his wife and son—his voice cracked. He broke down and had to pause, struggling to catch his breath before he could continue.

  After Aven was done explaining everything one could feel how the atmosphere had shifted in the room, and the sound occupying the room was only the sound of Vael’s pen slowly tapping against the desk, his expression dark.

  After a long moment, Vael finally set down his pen and looked up at Aven.

  “This is troublesome,” he said calmly. “But you did the right thing by coming back. How many people know about this?”

  Aven was caught slightly off guard by the cold response, but he didn’t hesitate.

  “No one. Just me.”

  Vael let out a quiet sigh of relief.

  ‘Thank god… it’s still salvageable, as long as the public doesn’t know.’

  “Alright. Go find a guest room and get some rest.”

  Aven stared at him, lips slightly parted, unsure of what to say.

  “What will you do? We have to act now against the Eireindaile family.”

  Aven had risen from his chair, both hands planted firmly on Vael’s desk as he leaned forward. His voice trembled with urgency.

  “We can’t just sit around. That would only show weakness. We can go after him—I got a good look at him.”

  Vael met his gaze with a cold, unblinking stare.

  “I said go to a guest room. You don’t understand the situation well enough to offer your opinion. And besides… no noble died.”

  Aven slowly sank back into his chair, his expression hollow.

  In that moment, it all came flooding back—why he left this family, why he hated the nobility. His father didn’t even see the death of Elsa and Evan as something worth mourning. The only reason he cared at all was because of the political implications. Because they were the wife and child of a noble heir.

  It wasn’t because they were his family, or even because they were human.

  "Vael snapped his fingers once, and a pair of guards entered to escort Aven to an empty room."

  "Don’t let him leave until he’s calmed down,"

  Vael instructed.

  —

  Far away from the noble mansion, tucked within one of Velthoria’s quieter districts, a bathhouse built from aged pale stone and dark beams. The entrance was humble, an arched doorway framed with hanging cloth embroidered in soft gold, gently swaying with the breeze. The scent of heated minerals, lavender and faint smoke drifts out with the steam.

  Inside, the structure opens into a wide chamber, dimly lit by glowing motes trapped in thin glass orbs that hang from the ceiling like muted stars.

  This bathhouse was unique, both Luminaires and mortals were welcome here. That alone made it stand out, as such places were rare. But that was exactly what made it special and widely visited. Many Luminaires had never planned to awaken, and even after they did, they still held their ties to the mortal world close.

  The space was crowded, the air thick with steam, making it hard to see more than a few feet ahead. Faces blurred into the haze, giving the place a sense of anonymity. But that same haze also softened the atmosphere, making people more at ease—strangers talked more freely here. Kael sat in the warm water, his head resting against the stone wall behind him, silent and still with his eyes closed.

  Steam curled around him, clinging to his skin like a second layer. The quiet hum of distant conversation faded into the background, blending into the soft splashing of water.

  Sigh.

  ‘Yesterday went better than expected, however… it used up more thoughts than I expected, but the outcome was nothing short of amazing, I must say. Titanwoods Stalker, huh…’

  Yesterday, Kael had activated his rank two mote for the first time after the assassination.

  ‘He completely lost track of me… no, that's not right, more like he was not able to even think or form thoughts about me. It was like he unconsciously avoided acknowledging me. He didn’t even notice when I walked past him, only a hair’s width away from him. But ninety thousand thoughts for a single activation that only lasts a moment though…’

  Kael silently clicked his tongue as he thought about it.

  “Did you hear about what happened recently?”

  Kael opened his eyes, his interest piqued.

  “About the fishermen?”

  “No, about the assassination of the heir’s family.”

  “WHAT?”

  “Yes, I know, right?! Apparently the Eireindaile family sent out an assassin to eliminate the family of the heir, and actually succeeded.”

  Soon, more voices joined the conversation, eager to listen and throw in their opinions and theories on the matter.

  ‘Seems like Syleena is fulfilling her part too.’

  With that thought, Kael stretched his arms slightly before rising and stepping out of the bath.