The winter morning pressed quietly against the stone walls of Morgain Castle, snow drifting past the tall windows in slow, silent curtains. Trafalgar walked through the main corridor, guided by two maids who kept a respectful distance behind him. Their steps were light; their gazes lowered.
"Right this way, Lord Trafalgar," one of them said softly.
He still wasn't used to that—Lord Trafalgar.
Before Euclid, these same corridors might as well have been empty whenever he passed. Maids pretended not to see him, guards didn't bother saluting, and servants only spoke to him when duty forced them to. He was a shadow in his own home.
Now?
Every servant he crossed moved aside immediately.
Every guard straightened, fist to chest. "Good morning, my lord."
Every maid dipped her head with careful precision.
Trafalgar kept his expression flat, eyes forward. 'Great. I went from invisible to… whatever the hell this is. Well, at least now I have the respect I deserve.'
