The hallways of the Winters estate stretched before Cael in quiet elegance.
He walked slowly, his boots brushing against the polished marble floor, the faint echo of each step following him like a ghost.
The walls were lined with old portraits — ancestors long gone, their oil-painted eyes watching with cold pride.
The morning light filtered through tall arched windows, scattering golden dust over the crimson carpets.
He remembered this place far too well.
Every curve of the staircase, every vase and sconce, every faint scratch on the wall — it was all the same.
The air smelled faintly of roasted bread and tea, mixed with the polished wood's scent and blooming lilacs from the courtyard.
Cael's gaze flicked toward a painting hanging near the dining hall's double doors — the Winters family crest. A silver hawk soaring over snow-tipped mountains, wings outstretched as if protecting the land below.
"I really came back…" he thought, his chest tightening.
He drew a slow breath and pushed open the grand double doors.
The dining hall came into view.
A long polished table of dark oak stretched almost the entire length of the room.
The chandeliers above glittered faintly, their candles flickering in the light breeze.
Silverware gleamed, and the scent of fresh bread, meat stew, and spiced tea filled the air.
And at the head of the table sat his father.
Marcus Winters, the Baron of this estate.
Black hair, trimmed short and neat.
Gray eyes like tempered steel — sharp, cold, always calculating. He carried the kind of presence that could silence a room without raising his voice.
To his right sat Rosalie Winters,
Cael's mother, her golden hair falling like sunlight over her shoulders, eyes olive-green and gentle as spring.
Graceful, warm, elegant — she had the kind of beauty that made even nobles look twice, but it was her smile that always disarmed him.
Beside her, Lily Winters, Cael's younger sister, barely fifteen.
She had inherited her mother's hair and eyes — the same vibrant gold and olive-green — though her expression often carried mischief instead of grace.
Across from them sat Aldric Winters, the eldest brother.
His resemblance to Marcus was uncanny — the same black hair, the same steely gray eyes. His posture was proud, every gesture deliberate.
And beside him sat Celeste, Aldric's wife, her long hair the color of twilight and eyes of soft violet — gentle, radiant, and warm in a way that softened even the stern air of the dining hall.
Cael's breath hitched.
'They're all here… just like I remember. Alive.'
His throat tightened as he stood by the door. He wanted to speak, to say something, anything — but his voice refused to come out.
'Calm down, Cael. Calm down.'
He steadied his breathing and stepped forward.
The soft clink of cutlery stopped.
Every head turned toward him.
For a moment, the entire table froze. His mother's spoon hovered mid-air.
Lily's eyes went wide, and the silver utensil in her hand slipped, clattering against the plate with a sharp clang.
Even Marcus's usually unflinching expression faltered.
Cael could almost hear their thoughts.
He was on time.
The one who always stumbled in late — sometimes so late he had to eat alone — was standing there, neatly dressed and calm.
He offered a faint, polite smile. "Good morning."
No one replied for a heartbeat too long.
Then, slowly, his mother blinked out of her daze and motioned to the maids. "Y-Yes, good morning, Cael. Serve him his breakfast."
The maids, who had been frozen in confusion, rushed into motion, hastily bringing out plates that hadn't been prepared for him yet.
Cael moved to his seat beside Lily and quietly sat down. He could feel their eyes on him — a mix of surprise and suspicion.
He ignored them, focusing instead on the soft aroma of buttered bread and the warmth of being surrounded by the people he'd thought he'd lost forever.
'I missed this… all of it.'
"Brother!" Lily's voice broke through his thoughts, bright and cheerful as ever. "You're up early! Does that mean you'll finally take me to the market today?"
Cael turned to her, his lips twitching into an unbidden smile. "The market?"
Before he could answer, a familiar voice cut in from across the table.
"Don't be ridiculous, Lily."
Aldric leaned back in his chair, smirking. "Our dear brother has much more important things to do — like taking a nap. Maybe even two."
Lily pouted. "That's not funny."
Aldric ignored her and turned his smirk toward Cael. "So, tell me, little brother — what's the occasion? Did the sun rise from the west today, or did you suddenly decide laziness is a disease?"
The mocking tone was sharp — casual, but dripping with disdain.
Cael's jaw tensed. Every fiber in his body screamed to lunge across the table and punch that smug grin off Aldric's face.
Because this man — this arrogant, poisonous bastard — was the one who betrayed them when the Monster Tide came.
If not for him, the family might have lived.
But Cael exhaled slowly, forcing his hands to stay still.
'Not yet. Calm down.'
He raised his eyes, meeting Aldric's gaze evenly. "I just felt like waking up early today. Any problem with that?"
Aldric's smirk twitched. He opened his mouth — but before he could fire back, a deep voice cut through the air.
"Enough."
Marcus didn't raise his tone. He didn't need to. His voice carried weight, firm and commanding.
"Do not start bickering while we're eating."
The silence that followed was sharp.
Aldric scowled but obeyed, muttering a short "hmph."
Then, unable to resist, he said, "Father, how long are you going to tolerate his laziness? First, he's talentless, and now he doesn't even contribute. If this were any other noble family, someone like him would've been cast out long ago."
Lily's spoon clinked as she set it down. "He's not worthless!" she burst out. "Cael's—"
"Enough," Marcus said again, this time with steel in his voice.
His gray eyes cut across the table.
"Did I not tell you kids not to quarrel during meals? Or do you think you've grown enough to ignore my words?"
Lily shrank back slightly. Aldric's confidence cracked.
"And you," Marcus continued, turning to his eldest son, "are you trying to teach me how to run my family? Know your limits."
Aldric stiffened, color draining from his face. "No, Father. I didn't mean it that way."
Marcus raised a hand, silencing him.
He turned his gaze toward Cael. His expression was unreadable, but there was a weight in it that made Cael straighten instinctively.
"Meet me in my office after breakfast."
Then, as if nothing had happened, he picked up his fork and resumed eating.
The room went dead silent. Only the sound of utensils and the faint ticking of the wall clock filled the air.
Cael didn't say a word. He just nodded faintly and focused on his food, though his appetite had long vanished.
✧✧✧
Later, he stood before a tall wooden door carved with the Winters crest. The air here was heavier, quieter.
Marcus's office.
He took a slow breath, letting his hand rest on the door for a moment before knocking.
Knock, knock.
"Enter."
Cael pushed the door open.
The office was large but orderly.
Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with ledgers, reports, and scrolls.
A massive desk of dark mahogany dominated the center, behind which sat Marcus, his head slightly bowed as he read through a parchment.
Cael entered and quietly shut the door behind him.
Marcus didn't look up.
He just kept reading. The scratch of his pen against paper was the only sound in the room.
Cael stood there in silence for nearly two minutes, the atmosphere pressing down on him.
Finally, he spoke. "May I know the reason you called me, Father?"
The pen stopped.
Marcus lifted his gaze slowly, gray eyes meeting Cael's. His expression didn't change, but inwardly, he was startled.
The boy in front of him — the son who usually waited endlessly in silence, too afraid to speak without permission — had actually spoken first.
Something felt different.
He set down the parchment and folded his hands atop the desk.
"I called you to talk about your future."
Cael's chest tightened.
Marcus's tone was firm, measured.
"Even though I scolded Aldric earlier, his words weren't false. You have no significant talent. No achievements. To be blunt, you hold no value in this house."
The words hit like stones, but Cael didn't flinch.
Marcus continued, "The Winters name you carry — it isn't something you earned. It was given to you at birth. But name alone cannot sustain you forever."
He paused, leaning back slightly.
"This world is cruel, Cael. To survive, you must have worth. Power, skill, or influence — something that proves your place. You lack all three."
His tone softened, just a fraction. "And yet… you never tried. That's what disappoints me the most."
The silence stretched. Marcus's gaze lowered briefly, and his voice grew quieter.
"I know I haven't been the best father," he admitted, almost reluctantly. "But don't mistake my words — I do care about you. The only reason you're still here is because you're my son. But even I can't shield you forever."
He reached under the desk and pulled out a small leather sack, setting it down with a soft thud.
"This," Marcus said, tapping it with a finger, "is the last thing I can do for you as your father."
The sack clinked — gold coins, heavy.
"You have two choices. Take this gold — a hundred coins — and leave this estate. Live quietly somewhere, in peace. You'll have enough to live comfortably for the rest of your life."
He paused.
"Or… you can stay. Work hard. Earn your place. Prove that you have value in this world."
For a brief moment, something almost like sorrow flickered in his eyes.
'Please, son… make the right choice.'
Cael stared at the sack in silence.
His throat tightened, and memories flickered like ghosts — Marcus standing before him on that final night, sword in hand, protecting the family as the monsters breached the gates.
He clenched his fists at his sides.
'He's just like I remember. Stoic. Harsh. Awful with words. But he cared more than any of us realized.'
'I won't let him die again. I won't let any of them die.'
Cael stepped forward. Slowly, he reached for the sack.
Marcus's eyes darkened — disappointment flickering faintly beneath his calm mask.
He opened his mouth to speak. "If that's your decision, then—"
"I choose the third option," Cael interrupted.
Marcus blinked. "…The what?"
Cael smiled faintly — the first real smile he'd shown since returning.
"I'll take the coins as a loan. I'll pay you back with interest before the end of the year."
His voice grew steady, confident. "If I fail, I'll work as a servant in this household until I do. But I will pay it back."
Marcus stared at him, momentarily stunned. The son who could barely meet his eyes before now looked at him head-on — calm, steady, almost defiant.
Then, slowly, Marcus's lips curved into something rare — a grin.
"You've grown bold," he said quietly. "Are you sure? If you fail, I'll work you to the bone."
Cael nodded. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
Marcus studied him for a moment longer, then nodded once. "Fine. Be sure to make it count, Cael. This is your last chance."
"I will."
Cael turned toward the door, his expression thoughtful. His hand touched the doorknob, but he stopped, glancing back.
"Father."
Marcus looked up. "Yes?"
Cael's tone turned serious. "It might sound strange, but… keep an eye on Aldric."
Marcus raised an eyebrow. "What are you—"
Cael raised a hand, stopping him. "It's not about our usual quarrels. I just… have a feeling something's wrong with him. Please. Just watch him."
Marcus hesitated, caught off guard by his son's uncharacteristically grave expression.
Finally, he exhaled. "...Alright. I'll keep an eye on him."
Cael's serious look softened into a smile. "Thank you."
Then he opened the door and stepped out, sunlight spilling across the polished floor as the door closed behind him.
For a long time, Marcus sat there in silence, staring at the empty space where his son had stood.
'That boy… has changed.'