"Tomorrow's the gathering," I said, watching the sun dip behind the mountains. "I plan to attend, as usual."
I glanced at the demon standing silently beside me. "Sebastian, did you manage to get anything out of the Ashen spy posing as one of our guards?"
His sharp eyes flicked toward me, his voice low but edged with frustration.
"No. They've got Licarus bugs near their hearts — they can trigger them at will. It's no use, Everard."
He took a step closer, gaze burning.
"Listen to me. Just give the order. I'll annihilatethe Ashen. Turn them into nothing more than a tale told in haste. Why wait... when you can hunt?"
There was a hint of anger in his tone — not just at the Ashen, but at the restraint I was showing.
"Sebastian, believe me—no one wants to wipe out the Ashen more than I do. But this... this just isn't the right move. Not yet."
"Serena chose the stalemate—she wouldn't put that kind of strain on her heart unless she truly had no other choice. We're not seeing the full picture here. Let's not act blindly and make a move we can't undo."
Sebastian clicked his tongue but said nothing. We made our way back to my chambers, and I returned to my work, a quiet anticipation building for tomorrow.
My brain keeps whispering that this hope is only setting me up for disappointment… but my heart insists—don't let go of it.
Because if I do… what was all this effort even for?
Sebastian assisted me in getting ready, silent but attentive, sensing my restless energy. The closer we got to the gathering, the louder the thoughts in my head became—but I kept my face composed.
I arrived at the hall early, as always. Seraphina stood by the door like a sentinel, her posture perfect. The moment she saw me approaching, she opened the door without a word and stepped in behind me. Her loyalty was steady—comforting in its own quiet way.
But what truly caught me off guard was Serena.
She was already inside.
I paused for just a heartbeat—not enough for anyone to notice, I hoped—but my chest tightened slightly. Of all people, she was never early. Yet there she sat, already composed, her expression unreadable.
The maids stood along the perimeter of the grand hall like living ornaments, their presence carefully curated to perfection. I walked in, back straight, and took my seat without a word.
Serena rose.
With a graceful bow, she greeted me in a voice polished and formal—nothing like the Serena I remembered. No flicker of warmth, no trace of the fire in her eyes that I used to know.
Still, I responded with equal grace. There was no space here for personal emotion, not with so many watching.
But inside… I felt the shift. Something was changing. I didn't know what—but I could feel it.
I kept my eyes ahead and waited. For Priscilla. For Juli. And for Hugo… as always.
The doors opened two more times—first for Priscilla, then for Juliet, each arrival spaced about five minutes apart.
Priscilla greeted me with her usual grace, her tone formal and poised. She walked with the kind of effortless confidence born of experience and discipline, taking her seat without a wasted motion.
Juliet followed after. Her greeting mirrored her mother's, but there was a subtle hesitation in her voice—a flicker of uncertainty she couldn't quite hide.
And somehow, that trace of vulnerability, that gentle awkwardness… it added a softness to the air. A quiet charm. A reminder of youth.
In its own strange way, it soothed something inside me—some corner of my war-hardened soul that still remembered gentler days.
Ten minutes passed.
It was nearly time.
I glanced toward the doors one final time, preparing to speak, to formally begin breakfast—when it happened.
Two presences.
Moving.
Approaching.
I felt them before I saw them. My legs trembled ever so slightly, and my hand… it shivered. Just a twitch, but enough that I curled my fingers to steady it. Sebastian must have sensed it too.
I caught the subtle twitch in his expression—the rare flicker of surprise that he couldn't quite mask.
It was him.
Hugo.
He was coming.
It took everything in me to suppress the grin tugging at the corner of my lips. Not now—not in front of Priscilla, or the assembled maids, all watching with their elegant stillness.
I pulled my composure tight around me, returned to the mask I wore so well.
And then—
A faint step.
Another.
The sound of motion, closer now.
Creak.
The doors opened.
A heavy step echoed across the marble floor.
Then, from beneath the grand double doors, the tip of a polished black shoe emerged—followed by another. Slowly, deliberately, the figure stepped into view.
Crimson eyes gleamed under the soft glow of chandeliers, sharp and unwavering. The boy's frame, still as skinny as I remembered, was cloaked in heavy black fabric that billowed slightly with every step. The cloak masked his thin build, transforming him into something taller, more composed—almost regal.
His slightly long hair danced with the breeze that drifted in through the open windows, swaying with each silent stride.
His left hand remained tucked into his pocket, his posture relaxed—but his presence was Unmistakable.
He walked forward, not with the fearful shuffle we'd grown used to, but with a quiet, calculated confidence.
And when his eyes locked onto mine, they didn't waver. There was no fear. No hesitation.
The maids—trained, disciplined, and accustomed to nobles of all kinds—bowed instinctively as he passed.
Not because of the insignia on his chest.
But because of him.
The authority that walked in was not worn—it was owned.
From the corner of my eye, I stole a glance at Serena.
For a moment—just a brief, fragile moment—her calm shattered.
Her blue eyes, usually serene and unreadable, shimmered with emotion. A glimmer of color returned to them, like morning light breaking through frost.
Her lips parted slightly, trembling as if words were trying to escape but couldn't.
She tried to compose herself, to pull the mask back over her face, but failed—again and again. Her breath hitched. Her fingers curled against the fabric of her dress.
I could see the storm building beneath her graceful exterior.
I wanted to reach out. To place a hand over hers. To stop Hugo in his tracks, say something, anything—but I couldn't.
A single move like that would stir the waters too violently. It would change everything in ways we might not be able to undo.
So I watched her, helpless.
She struggled—futilely at first—then slowly, painfully, regained control. Her breathing steadied, her lips pressed into a firm line. But the truth still lingered in her eyes, faint but undeniable.
Hugo approached, his posture poised, movements steady. He bowed lightly to me, his voice even and respectful as he greeted me—formally, but deliberately stripped of any sentiment. Not cold, not detached, just… intentionally neutral. A subtle display of control.
I nodded in return, keeping my face unreadable.
He turned to Serena then, his steps unhurried but certain. When he reached the seat beside her, he offered another polite bow.
Serena, having finally found her footing, gave a slight nod in return—though her eyes darted away the very next moment, like looking at him too long might break her all over again.
There was no fear in Hugo's gaze. No trembling, no hesitation. Just quiet resolve. He sat beside her, composed as ever, then turned and greeted Priscilla and Juli with the same calm, poised tone.
He calmly began eating the food that the maid behind him served, his movements smooth, unhurried.
There was no trace of the awkwardness Juli displayed, nor the composed reverence one would typically expect in the presence of a duke.
His demeanor made one thing clear—this meeting, to him, was merely the prologue to something far greater.
He didn't force conversation, nor did he insert himself into any. He simply observed, listening in silence as I engaged with the others.
But when I subtly brought up the issue of the Ashen spy with Priscilla, I noticed it—the faintest shift.
A smirk tugged at the corner of Hugo's lips. It was brief, but unmistakable, a ripple of amusement breaking through the surface of his otherwise impassive expression. Until then, he had shown no interest, but that one reaction spoke volumes.
After the breakfast concluded, I rose from my seat. As I made my way toward the exit, I cast one final glance back at Hugo—my last for the day.
His eyes hadn't changed. Still calm. Still steady. And when they met mine, it wasn't with surprise or hesitation.
He held my gaze, effortlessly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. There was no fear in that look. No uncertainty.
Just as I reached the doors, I paused, feigning the recall of some overlooked matter.
As I exited the hall, I made the announcement without breaking stride. "From now on, these gatherings will take place thrice a week."
The words left my mouth effortlessly, as though I had only just remembered them—casual, but deliberate.
"Sebastian," I said once we were out of earshot, "my son—has he lost the ability to feel pressure?"
My tone carried a layer of sarcasm, but it wasn't a rhetorical question. I wanted an answer.
"I think he's just lost the ability to care," Sebastian replied dryly, the same edge of mockery sharpening his voice.
"It's my fault for asking," I muttered, but I caught the faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He knew I was smiling too—he could sense it, even from behind me.
The next day, Hugo's movements caught my attention—not because they contradicted his usual routine, but because they were so purposeful, so pointed, it was as if he wanted to be seen.
He used his insignia to reserve the entire second floor of the estate—the most prestigious level, where scholars, advisors, and my most trusted personnel worked. A bold move, one that would give the illusion that I had summoned him for a private reprimand. Clever.
But I couldn't afford a misstep. One wrong decision here could trigger consequences I wouldn't be able to undo.
So I thought carefully.
Instead of calling Hugo myself, I asked Seraphena to visit his chambers. She was to summon him only if she deemed it appropriate. I also instructed her to quietly spread a rumor among the maids—that I was furious over Hugo's actions.
It was a necessary cover.
If someone with a 'truth-seeker' skill were listening, they wouldn't find a lie in the narrative. Seraphena, after all, could manipulate even her own memories. As far as anyone could tell, she brought Hugo to me of her own volition, believing the situation demanded it.
Now, the rest was up to him, whether he can make Seraphina deem him worthy.
I didn't doubt he would come—not even for a second. Somewhere deep within, I already knew.
He will be here.
The doors to my chamber opened with a solemn creak. Standing there, composed and unmoving, was Hugo.
With a subtle tilt of my eyes, I signaled the ministers to leave. They understood instantly and filed out without question, leaving only Hugo, me and Sebastian in the quiet gravity of the hall.
He entered with measured steps, firm in posture, and halted at the center of the room.
A polite bow preceded his first words.
I wanted to speak with him longer, to test the waters of this sudden transformation—but I curbed the urge.
Instead, I simply asked what he sought, masking my growing curiosity behind a composed facade.
What followed… caught me off guard.
His tone dropped—steady, calm, and utterly without hesitation. He didn't waver or meander through pleasantries.
He dove straight to the point, as if he'd been anticipating this exact moment.
Then he spoke, and as his words unfurled, something strange happened.
He began with what he knew, moved into what was believed impossible, and then framed his proposal as the only viable alternative to lingering in impossibility. Every step calculated. Every phrase perfectly paced.
He acknowledged variables before I could even raise them, addressing potential obstacles with the foresight of a seasoned tactician.
It was uncanny—almost surreal. The format, the structure, the rhythm… it mirrored the strategic presentations held in the imperial court's war chambers.
How did Hugo become so… proficient?
And more importantly—how long had he been hiding this?
His proposal was bold. Risky. But undeniably clever.
Suppressing my astonishment, I gave Sebastian a short nod. He vanished and returned shortly after with my four ministers.
Not to deliberate on Hugo's suggestion. I'd already made my decision.
Hugo would carry out the plan himself, and I'd assign Garveric to aid him.
But the other theee—though unskilled in business—were the backbone of my wartime command.
The same strategists once honed under Serena's direct tutelage, back when she stood beside me as the duchy's sharpest mind.
With them gathered before me, I opened the discussion with a simple but heavy declaration:
"Our goal is to make the Ashen a tale of the past. Keep in mind—they are the Emperor's daggers. Plan accordingly."
Sebastian smirked beside me, his eyes flashing faintly with the demonic mana only I could sense.
Inwardly, I smiled wider than I had in years.
'Serena… I will no longer uphold the stalemate you forged. Hugo is not someone to shelter anymore. Let him roam free, and you might just witness the wonders you've always feared—and hoped—he could become.'
And this time, I didn't bother hiding the grin tugging at my lips