Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound cut through the quiet study like a crack in glass, pulling Sulien out of his thoughts. For a moment, he remained still, eyes fixed on the papers scattered across his desk, as if acknowledging the interruption would somehow confirm its existence. When the knock came again, slightly firmer this time, he finally exhaled and leaned back in his chair, his expression smoothing into something composed and unreadable.
"Come in," he said calmly.
The door opened with a soft creak, and Sulien instinctively adjusted his posture. It was an unconscious habit now—one he hadn't yet decided whether he found comforting or irritating. His gaze shifted toward the entrance as two figures stepped inside, and his hand, almost on reflex, moved to the drawer beside him. He pulled out a pair of thin gloves and slipped them on with practiced ease, tightening each finger carefully as if precision alone could keep his thoughts in order.
Only then did he look at them properly.
Arabella and Aldari.
His younger siblings.
The twins stood side by side, both thirteen years old, both carrying the unmistakable aura of nobility that came not from posture alone but from upbringing. They shared the same dark hair as him, but their differences were immediate once one looked closer. Arabella's eyes were a clear, sharp gold—something inherited from the Duke, bright and unyielding. Aldari, on the other hand, had silver eyes like their mother, softer in tone but no less perceptive. Together, they looked like reflections of two opposing sides of the same coin, placed deliberately into the world to confuse anyone trying to tell them apart.
If Sulien were honest, they were also slightly overwhelming.
"What brings you here?" he asked, voice even as he adjusted the fit of his gloves.
Interacting with siblings still felt unnatural. In his previous life, family had been an abstract concept rather than a lived experience. He had no memory of arguing over dinner, no recollection of shared childhood moments, no instinct for casual warmth or teasing familiarity. Every interaction with them required conscious effort, like following a script he had never rehearsed.
The twins, meanwhile, acted as though this was entirely normal.
Arabella walked in first, unbothered, and sat on the long sofa near his desk without asking for permission. Aldari followed more hesitantly, glancing around the office before settling beside her. Their presence made the room feel smaller in a way Sulien couldn't quite explain.
His eyes briefly shifted to Aldari's hands.
Smudged.
Chocolate.
There was also a faint streak near the corner of his mouth that had gone unnoticed.
Before he could even decide whether it was worth commenting on, his body moved on its own.
Sulien stood, crossed the room, and without hesitation pulled a tissue from the nearby box. He gently wiped Aldari's hand first, then his mouth, with precise, almost clinical movements. The boy stiffened immediately, while Arabella watched with a look that suggested she was torn between embarrassment and mild outrage.
"I asked what brought you here," Sulien repeated calmly, as if nothing unusual had just happened.
Arabella crossed her arms. "Mother asked us to bring you this."
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, holding it out toward him.
Sulien disposed of the used tissue, then took the box. His fingers lingered on it for a moment before he opened it.
Inside lay a sapphire brooch.
The gem was cut with precision, its surface catching the morning light spilling through the window and scattering it into soft fragments of blue across the desk. It was elegant, expensive, and unmistakably crafted by a master artisan.
"What else did she say?" he asked, tone unchanged, even as his hand instinctively reached out to straighten Aldari's slightly crooked collar.
Both twins reacted at once.
"Hey—stop that," Arabella complained, swatting his hand away.
Aldari frowned but didn't move away, only adjusting his posture with a hint of protest. Neither of them liked being treated like children, but Sulien couldn't help it. If something was out of place, it demanded correction. Ignoring it was harder than dealing with the reaction afterward.
"Nothing else," Arabella replied, though her voice carried a faint disappointment.
Sulien didn't respond immediately. Instead, his gaze drifted toward the window where the morning sun had fully risen now, spilling across the estate in long golden streaks. Another sleepless night had passed without him noticing.
"I see," he said quietly.
He closed the box and placed it carefully on his desk, aligning it perfectly with the edge before letting go.
"Brother," Aldari spoke after a brief silence, more hesitant than before, "Mother said you'll leave today."
Sulien looked at him. The boy's expression was serious in a way that didn't quite fit his age.
"Yes," he replied simply. "The journey takes half a day. I need to leave early."
"But the academy opens the day after tomorrow," Aldari continued, tilting his head slightly. "Why leave so soon?"
There was no accusation in his tone, only curiosity. That made it worse.
Sulien felt a faint twitch in his brow.
Too perceptive.
Even for a child.
This family really is full of monsters.
Not in a literal sense. Not yet. But every member of the Wald household seemed to possess an unsettling sharpness—an awareness that went beyond what Sulien expected from people who were supposed to be supporting characters in someone else's story.
He exhaled slowly.
"I have something to take care of on the way," he said at last, choosing the simplest lie available.
It wasn't entirely false. It just wasn't something he could explain to them.
Arabella narrowed her eyes. "What kind of something?"
Sulien ruffled both their heads before either could press further.
"Something important."
Arabella immediately slapped his hand away again. Aldari sighed but said nothing, clearly dissatisfied but aware he wouldn't get a better answer.
Before the questioning could resume, Sulien raised his voice slightly.
"Lin."
The door opened almost instantly.
Butler Lin stepped inside with perfect composure, as if he had been waiting outside the entire time—which, knowing him, he probably had. His gaze moved briefly between the twins and Sulien before he bowed slightly.
"Escort them back," Sulien instructed.
"As you wish, Young Master."
The twins protested lightly, but Lin was already guiding them toward the door with quiet authority that left no room for argument. Arabella glanced back once before disappearing into the hallway, while Aldari followed after her, still frowning as though trying to solve a puzzle that refused to make sense.
Only when the door closed did the room finally feel quiet again.
Sulien exhaled.
Then he picked up the velvet box once more.
The sapphire brooch rested inside like a fragment of frozen ocean.
Tidecaller's Grace.
A rare artifact designed to enhance mana recovery. Even among nobles, it was not something easily obtained. It required connections, resources, and time—things most people could not afford to waste. Yet his mother had simply given it to him without hesitation.
He stared at it for a moment longer before carefully fastening it to the left side of his chest.
A faint pulse of warmth spread through his body the moment it clicked into place, subtle but unmistakable, like something responding to his presence.
Sulien let out a slow breath.
His mother chose well.
"Then I will be on my way."
The carriage door closed behind him with a soft thud.
Outside, Butler Lin stood with the maids, all of them bowing in unison. The estate stretched behind them in quiet grandeur, its tall walls and elegant structure bathed in morning light. His mother and the Duke were absent, but Sulien could feel them watching from the upper windows. Not physically visible, but present in a way that didn't require sight.
He hesitated for only a moment before inclining his head slightly toward the mansion.
A silent reassurance.
He wasn't sure if they saw it.
He hoped they did.
As the carriage began to move, the wheels grinding softly against the gravel road, Sulien allowed himself to lean back into the seat. The estate slowly receded behind him, its silhouette growing smaller until it was nothing more than a memory framed by distance.
Only then did the weight of what he was doing settle in.
Leaving.
Again.
Not just leaving home, but stepping toward the beginning of everything he remembered.
The Academy.
Aiden McFerrin.
The story.
The future.
Sulien stared out the window as fields stretched endlessly on both sides of the road, golden under the afternoon sun. Somewhere out there, the plot he once read in a book was already waiting for him to interfere with it.
Or be crushed by it.
He wasn't sure which outcome was more likely.
After a while, he leaned forward and knocked lightly on the carriage wall.
"Change course," he instructed the driver. "Stop at the village ahead."
The coachman hesitated only briefly before acknowledging the order.
The detour wasn't random.
It never was.
There was someone he needed to meet.
Someone who, in the original story, had barely existed as a footnote—an unimportant detail, a name easily forgotten. But Sulien knew better now. In a world where even minor characters could alter entire arcs, ignoring potential variables was the fastest path to failure.
Better to bring them in early.
Better to control what he could.
The carriage eventually slowed as the village came into view.
It was quiet compared to the capital, nestled between rolling hills and dense forest. Life here moved at an unhurried pace. Farmers worked the fields, children ran through narrow streets, and merchants called out casually from wooden stalls. It was the kind of place that didn't expect the world to notice it—and usually, the world obliged.
Sulien stepped down from the carriage and adjusted his coat.
The air smelled of earth and smoke.
Simple.
Familiar in a way that almost felt nostalgic.
He entered the village without hesitation.
The tavern was easy to find.
Unremarkable. Weathered wood. Dim interior. The faint smell of alcohol and roasted meat drifting through the cracks in the door.
Inside, the world was quieter.
And there, at the farthest table, sat the man he had come for.
Unshaven. Tired. Hollow-eyed.
A man who looked like he had already decided the rest of his life would not matter.
Sulien approached and sat down across from him without asking.
The man didn't look up.
"I'm not looking for company," he muttered.
"I know," Sulien replied calmly. "I'm not here for company either."
That made the man finally pause.
Slowly, he raised his eyes.
And everything began to change.