Clara glanced at her watch. It was 11:49 AM, leaving exactly eleven minutes until her shift finally ended. Gratefully letting out a soft sigh, she looked up at the woman sitting in the wheelchair near the window.
Ethea Valmere.
Even trapped in stillness, she possessed a striking, lethal kind of beauty. Her long black hair spilled past her shoulders, framing delicate features that most women would envy, but it was her eyes that held Clara's attention. They were a piercing ice-blue, though they rarely focused on anyone or anything in the room. Right now, they were locked onto the front door, as if waiting for someone to walk through it.
A small smile tugged at Clara's lips.
She'd been working with Ethea for several days now and had picked up on her habits. The woman was almost mostly silent, using only single words or faint nods to communicate. It made her seem detached and indifferent, but Clara had enough life experience to see past that.
It wasn't that Ethea was indifferent to her husband; she just didn't show her feelings like most people. Clara had picked up on the subtle signs: the quiet watchfulness when Soren wasn't looking, and the slight change in her breathing whenever he entered the room. Even more telling was the way she accepted his help without resistance, even though being so dependent clearly pained her.
They didn't seem to love each other romantically. Not yet, anyway.
But their relationship was good.
Better than most marriages Clara had seen.
And having been in a similar situation herself once, Clara could guess it wouldn't be too long before they warmed up to each other.
She had noticed how Mr. Valmere looked at his wife when no one was watching, from the gentle way he cared for her to his determination whenever he talked about helping her get better. None of it felt like a forced obligation. It was something deeper than that.
Turning back to her work, Clara finished folding the laundry and set it neatly on the table.
"Mrs. Valmere," she said gently. "Is there anything you need before I leave?"
Ethea didn't respond immediately.
Then, quietly: "...No."
"Alright. Your husband should be back soon. He said the gate would clear in a few hours."
Ethea's gaze never wavered from the door. Smiling, Clara gathered her things and moved toward the entrance, but just as she reached for the handle, it turned from the other side. The door opened, and Soren stepped inside.
"Welcome ba—"
Clara froze mid-sentence.
His clothes were tattered and stained with blood, dirt clinging to the torn fabric. His right palm was wrapped crudely with a piece of white cloth, already soaked through with red.
But despite everything, he was smiling.
"I'm back."
Clara recovered quickly from her shock. "Mr. Valmere! Are you alright? Should I call for an ambulance?"
Soren shook his head. "Don't worry, it's nothing serious. Will be healed soon."
Clara hesitated, her eyes scanning his injuries with concern. She knew that Awakened were different from normal people; being one herself, she knew their bodies could endure more and heal much faster. Still, the sheer amount of blood coating his clothes was worrying.
"If you're sure..." she said reluctantly.
"I'm sure."
Clara nodded slowly. "Alright then. I've finished everything for today. Mrs. Valmere had her morning care, and lunch is ready in the kitchen. Just needs to be served."
"Thank you, Lady Clara."
"Take care of yourself, Mr. Valmere. And please, rest properly."
With that, Clara gave a small bow and left, closing the door quietly behind her. Soren stood in the hall for a moment, letting out a long breath. When he looked toward the living room, he found Ethea staring at him, her ice-blue eyes wide as she scanned his injuries. For the first time since he'd met her, there was something undeniable in her expression: concern.
Soren caught her eye for a second but quickly looked down, not wanting to make her worry.
"I'll be back in a bit," he said quietly.
Ethea gave a faint nod in response.
Sighing in relief, he headed upstairs to the bathroom.
The shower water stung his cuts, but he gritted his teeth and cleaned himself thoroughly. With the blood washed away, he could see the actual damage: shallow lacerations along his shoulder and side, though his right palm was far worse, cracked and raw from the backlash of his Frost Palm Strike.
Once dry, he changed into clean clothes and carefully bandaged his hand with medical gauze from the first-aid kit, which felt much better than the torn cloth from before. From the looks of it, the injuries would fully heal in about two hours. Satisfied, he came back downstairs and went straight to the kitchen to plate lunch.
Ding-dong.
The doorbell rang.
Soren paused, frowning slightly.
'Who could that be?'
Miss Clara had just left, and he wasn't expecting anyone else. Or was it the police?
Pondering, Soren walked to the front door and pulled it open, only to freeze instantly at the sight of the figure standing on the porch. The man was in his late sixties, immaculate in a crisp black suit and neatly combed gray hair. He looked entirely professional, his expression perfectly neutral.
Soren recognized him instantly. He was none other than the old butler of the Valmere.
'...Could it be?'
A bad premonition rose in Soren's heart, but he quickly recovered his composure.
"Mr. Aldric," he greeted carefully. "What brings you here?"
The butler's eyes flicked over Soren briefly, showing no emotion.
"I'm just here to deliver this." The butler didn't even greet in return and instead extended a folded parchment.
Soren hesitated briefly before taking the paper. Trying to maintain courtesy, he offered, "Would you like to come inside?"
The butler shook his head dismissively. "That won't be necessary. I will take my leave after making sure you have read the document."
"...Alright." Soren unfolded the parchment and began reading.
As he read, his expression didn't change, but his grip on the paper tightened slightly.
The document...
It was a disownment notice.
Effective immediately, he was no longer recognized as a member of the Valmere family. All ties, financial support, inheritance rights, and family name privileges were hereby revoked.
Signed by his father. Witnessed by the family council.
It was stamped with the Valmere family seal at the bottom, proving its authenticity.
"...I see," Soren muttered after finishing. 'So they decided to make it official now, huh?'
He'd expected this to happen sooner or later. They already used him for the marriage arrangement, so he had no use left for them now.
But maybe this was for the better.
He had no attachment to that family anyway. They'd ignored him for all his life, treated him like he didn't exist.
Now it was just made official.
Taking a deep breath, he looked back at the butler. "Thank you for delivering it."
Aldric's eyes narrowed briefly, perhaps not expecting such a calm reaction.
But he simply nodded. "Understood."
Without another word, the butler turned and walked away. Soren stood there for a moment, staring at the parchment in his hand. He closed the door quietly and leaned against it, letting out a slow breath, then folded the paper and set it on the side table. There was nothing else to say about it, so he headed to the kitchen to serve lunch. As he did, however, he noticed Ethea staring intently at the parchment, looking genuinely interested in what it was about.
'...No. Better not to mention it.'
He shook his head and quickly served the lunch.
"Here."
Just as he was about to start feeding her, the door rang once again.
Ring-ring!
"..."
Speechless, Soren let his hand down and headed to open the door.
"Welcome, wha-!"
And froze.
"F-Father-in-law?!"