The reception room where Deon found himself was luxurious and spacious, adorned with a high ceiling decorated with golden patterns and a massive crystal chandelier at its center. The walls were covered with mirrors and gilded frames, while the glossy marble floor embraced velvet sofas in royal colors arranged around an elegant table.
He and Vierenna sat on the sofas beside each other, facing old Jan, Anna-Accia—who was now his knight—and her mother, Anna-Lina. Felice was nowhere to be seen. In fact, they were waiting in silence for his late arrival.
Deon let his eyes wander over the murals within his field of vision. Each one depicted a part of the history of House Eirenios, most of which he had already learned through his self-studies.
But one painting stood out to him.
It depicted an aerial view of a cold, snowy land. Part of the painting showed the vast ocean stretching toward the upper edges of the artwork. A fleet of ships was making its way along the icy land, avoiding the floating ice masses in the ocean. Thin white lines gave the illusion of fierce winds, and Deon could almost picture them in his mind.
In the lower left corner of the painting, three pillars reached toward the sky. The design of the pillars was simple, but a crude line ran vertically along each one, splitting into smaller lines around the width of each pillar.
The pillars were not as prominent as the ships in the painting. After all, the artwork was meant to illustrate the beginning of House Eirenios history when they arrived in the Macezar Empire. But what bothered Deon was that there were supposed to be seven pillars.
He was certain of this because that was where his story "Forever Unfinished" began.
Of course, it was possible that the painting only captured three of the seven because its focus was on House Eirenios and their migration. But that did nothing to dispel the sense of wrongness in the image. Why include the three at all? Was there a connection to be made?
Through his studies, Deon had learned that House Eirenios had the oldest recorded history in the current world. They were once part of another empire on another continent, but they suddenly migrated, abandoning their homeland to come to the Macezar Empire—before it even bore that name.
Not long after their migration, the Forgotten Continent, as it later became known, faced ruin. A catastrophic event, still unknown to this day, wiped out an entire history. The only remnants of that past were House Eirenios, who had left just before the disaster.
The icy land was not part of the Forgotten Continent—it was merely its northern border, separated by the vast ocean. That was why, during House Eirenios migration, they merely passed by the northern frostlands without settling there. That was understandable—there was nothing in the north but ice, wind, and death. Nothing except one thing—cold.
And yet, the painting depicted the pillars?
This was not the first time Deon had seen the artwork, and every time, his train of thought never strayed from the same unanswered questions. He had thought that as his studies progressed, his questions would lessen in number. But the opposite happened—they only multiplied. It was deeply frustrating, but Deon always reminded himself that his true goal was to learn about Viktoria de Avila. That was more important.
But when has the logic of the mind ever triumphed over the feelings of the heart?
Deon had a feeling that Viktoria had something to do with House Eirenios. He believed so mainly because his research had shown him how much power she wielded. But not just over them—over them all.
These were merely Deon's speculations—he was not certain. But the small details pointed to the validity of his suspicion.
He first became suspicious when he saw her for the first time in the Memory Records. And his doubts only grew when he learned how she died. It was strange and mysterious at best. Everyone told a different version of her death. And that only helped to obscure the truth even further.
His curiosity about her had begun solely because she was connected to his current existence in her son's body. But the more he learned about her, the more he realized that she had a hand in every other secret and mystery surrounding House Eirenios itself.
Deon looked away from the painting, frustration and helplessness clouding his mind once again. To push those feelings aside, he focused on one of his joys—coffee with milk.
He lifted the cup to his lips—
"Sorry for the delay."
And was interrupted.
Deon raised his eyes from his cup to see Felice entering the reception room with steady steps. He did not look as apologetic as he claimed. Regardless, Deon returned the cup to his lips, savoring the heavenly taste.
'I love you, Yven.'
His body relaxed like a cloud drifting through the clear blue sky. But his expression remained neutral so as not to draw attention.
"Take a seat. Since you're late, I'll start with you first."
The dissatisfied tone of Old Jan hastened Felice' steps. He moved to sit on the single sofa beside Vierenna. His body was tense, but his forward lean spoke volumes about what was going on in his mind. He was focused, ensuring he would not miss anything.
'So this is unusual for them!'
Deon was right. Despite Old Jan being Felice and Accia's grandfather, he did not regularly instruct them. He would say a word or two, but he always encouraged them to learn from their own mistakes.
"First, I won't tell you what you should learn for yourselves. Your fighting styles are unique to each of you, and each of you should form your own opinions on that. What I will tell you are the mistakes each of you made in this fight. My words may help you improve if you learn from your mistakes today, or they may mislead you because they do not necessarily define your fighting style. For this reason, I will be brief but clear."
Old Jan waited for someone to speak, but everyone seemed focused on his words. This gave him some satisfaction.
"Felice…"
Felice leaned forward even more, his eyes shining with curiosity and anticipation.
"You are stronger than you showed, and you know it. But your high regard for your opponent made you rely too much on your team's support—especially your sister's. You did not fight at full strength from the start because you thought you would need it later if you preserved it."
Old Jan's eyes remained on Felice for a moment, gauging his understanding.
"Combat is the moment of truth. No matter your opponent, do not wait for a moment when you might need what you hesitated to use from the beginning. The right moment may never come."
Felice' eyes clouded with confusion. His back leaned against the sofa in deep thought.
Meanwhile, Old Jan focused on the remaining three. Eventually, he stopped at Anna-Accia beside him. But she remained passive, her head lowered as if unaware of his gaze—which was far from the truth.
"Accia, with your knowledge of Vierenna and your natural combat instincts, you have a unique perspective on fighting that no one else does. But you didn't take advantage of that. You simply went with the usual—what's considered standard. Don't be a prisoner of the familiar. Make what others see as your weakness the key to controlling the fight."
Accia nodded with a smile.
"Thank you, Grandfather."
The old man, Jan, nodded back with a smile of his own. Then, he shifted his gaze to Deon, his expression widening into a grin, mixed with a hint of tension and hesitation.
"Young Master Deon! I don't know what to say to you. You had a good understanding of the fight and used it almost perfectly—if not for your experienced opponent. You were the most dangerous among the three, but your decisions were weaker in critical moments. Your control over the battle was solid and utilized well at best, but it was also too transparent, lacking an element of deception."
Deon maintained his composure under the old man's sharp gaze. Everything Jan had said was already known to him. Even Vierenna herself had pointed it out with greater detail. But Jan's words hinted that he had more to say.
"This fight told me that you're lacking in the basics. Whether that's intentional or not, I can't say. This short fight, as your sister made it, didn't reveal much for me to give you advice you don't already know. That's all I have to say about you. Work on your fundamentals, refine your strengths, and sharpen your vision even more."
Deon nodded respectfully, not allowing his disappointment to show on his face. But the old man's words only confirmed what he already knew—he needed to learn more to cover his weaknesses. There was still so much to improve. As frustrating as it could be, Deon felt his path was becoming clearer. And he liked that feeling.
"As for Young Lady Vierenna…"
Deon glanced at Vierenna beside him. Her calm face suggested she was listening attentively. But knowing her as well as he did, he saw something else—something he couldn't quite define.
Vierenna noticed his gaze and turned toward him. The thoughts that had been lingering in her mind lately were something she hadn't fully accepted. But the more she looked at Deon…
She smiled at him before returning her attention to Jan's words.
"You didn't take the fight seriously from the beginning. While I don't think your curiosity would have led to your defeat, it did put you in a difficult position twice. Aside from that, your fighting was flawless, which is exactly what I expected."
Vierenna placed a hand over her chest and bowed slightly in respect.
"Thank you for your words, Sir Jan. But I still have a long way to go."
Jan smiled approvingly at her humility.
---
The conversation at the table gradually turned into lighthearted chatter. Anna-Lena took the lead with her boundless enthusiasm, with Vierenna just behind her in energy. As for the others, they only spoke when they had something to say—or when they were dragged into the conversation against their will, as was the case with Deon.
The evening continued like this until it grew late. The first to leave were the members of House De Ressa, returning to the guest rooms. They decided to stay the night and depart in the morning.
The only ones left in the well-lit room were Deon and Vierenna.
"Just you and me."
She spoke with a calm expression.
"For a few minutes, at least."
Vierenna raised an eyebrow, not expecting a response. But Deon's expression, which mirrored her own composure, seemed to be telling her something.
"And I do wish it to be longer?"
A shiver ran through Vierenna's skin for a split second, but she ignored it with a widening smile.
"You've been speaking your mind quite openly lately. I don't encourage that."
Yet, for some reason, Vierenna didn't feel the same way about her own words as she usually did.
'What's happening to me?'
"I'm going to my room."
Deon stood from his seat. He didn't want to deal with this side of Vierenna so late at night. And for other reasons as well.
"So you're running away? That's not good for your health."
Even so, Vierenna didn't feel as amused by teasing him as she usually did.
She watched as Deon's figure disappeared behind the double doors. Contrary to the calmness of his footsteps, her heart pounded wildly inside her chest.
'I'll be fine!'
She closed her eyes, trying to reassure herself. But neither her heart calmed nor her mind returned to its usual state.
---
Deon returned to the darkness of his room. The silence around him mirrored his mood, even the cold hitting just the right nerve. He closed his eyes, expecting the fear he had anticipated—but it never came.
Only a quiet, chilling sensation that wrapped around his being.
'Her doubts are starting to surface.'