The night eventually came to an end.
Even legends could not keep people awake forever.
The ritual grounds emptied.
The snow-covered garden returned to silence.
The lanterns were extinguished one by one.
Only the stars remained above the northern heavens.
Watching.
Silent.
Ancient.
Unchanging.
Yet despite the quietness of the night—
Very few people actually slept peacefully.
The events of Kel's awakening had left deep impressions upon everyone present.
The priests.
The priestesses.
The attendants.
The Rosenfeld family.
Every person carried different thoughts.
Different questions.
Different theories.
And somewhere among those countless questions—
One particular priestess found herself unable to rest.
Scholar Mirielle.
Priestess of Knowledge.
Her guest chamber overlooked the eastern gardens of Rosenfeld Estate.
A warm fireplace crackled softly.
Ancient books rested upon a nearby table.
Moonlight entered through the windows.
Yet the scholar remained awake.
A thick journal lay open before her.
Several pages had already been filled.
Page after page.
Observation after observation.
Theory after theory.
Yet every conclusion eventually led to the same destination.
Kel Rosenfeld.
The scholar lowered her pen.
Then sighed.
"He makes no sense."
The statement sounded almost defeated.
For a scholar—
Nothing was more frustrating than encountering something that refused to fit inside established knowledge.
And Kel refused to fit inside anything.
Eighty-eight constellations.
Space awakening.
Manifesting celestial symbols.
Perfect political judgment.
Each topic individually could occupy years of study.
Yet all of them belonged to one person.
The scholar suddenly felt tired.
Not physically.
Mentally.
"This boy is academic poison."
The thought appeared naturally.
Then she laughed softly.
Because it was true.
Hours later—
The estate finally became quiet.
And eventually—
Even Scholar Mirielle fell asleep.
Morning arrived.
The northern sun slowly rose beyond distant mountains.
Golden rays illuminated the snow-covered estate.
Servants resumed their duties.
Knights changed shifts.
The kitchens became active.
Life returned to normal.
Or at least—
Normal for House Rosenfeld.
The guests began preparing to leave.
Carriages assembled outside.
Horses were prepared.
Attendants organized luggage.
The Twelve Priests and Priestesses gathered near the main courtyard.
Farewells were exchanged.
Formalities completed.
Blessings given.
One by one—
The carriages departed.
The Priest of Dawn left.
The Priestess of Fate left.
The Priest of War left.
The Priest of Judgment left.
Eventually—
Scholar Mirielle's carriage also departed.
Or so everyone believed.
Even her own attendants.
That was the amusing part.
Nobody knew.
Not even the people working under her.
The carriage traveled peacefully along the northern road.
Snow-covered forests stretched across the horizon.
The wheels rolled steadily.
The attendants chatted casually.
Everything appeared ordinary.
Until they reached nearly halfway toward the nearest temple branch.
Then—
One attendant frowned.
Something felt wrong.
Very wrong.
He looked around the carriage.
Then again.
Then a third time.
His expression slowly changed.
"Wait."
The others looked toward him.
"Where is Lady Mirielle?"
Silence.
Everyone froze.
Then immediately looked around.
The carriage suddenly became chaotic.
One attendant checked the front section.
Another checked luggage.
A third opened storage compartments.
Nothing.
The Priestess was gone.
Completely gone.
Several moments passed.
Then one attendant covered his face.
"We are finished."
Another nodded.
Completely agreeing.
Because they knew their superior.
Very well.
Far too well.
One attendant slowly sighed.
"She stayed behind."
The others immediately nodded.
Because there was only one explanation.
And it was absolutely something she would do.
The carriage continued traveling.
While somewhere far behind them—
The missing Priestess remained perfectly content.
Rosenfeld Estate
Morning sunlight illuminated the estate grounds.
Snow glittered beneath golden rays.
Servants moved through pathways.
Knights conducted patrols.
Everything appeared peaceful.
A particular figure sat atop a large tree near the eastern gardens.
Completely hidden.
Wrapped inside concealment magic.
Watching.
Observing.
Scholar Mirielle smiled.
A very dangerous smile.
The smile of a scholar who had discovered an unprecedented research subject.
And intended to study it personally.
Below—
Rosenfeld Estate continued its daily activities.
Nobody noticed her.
At least—
That was what she believed.
The scholar carefully adjusted her glasses.
A small notebook appeared in her hand.
Fresh pages.
Ready for observation.
"Day One."
She wrote carefully.
"Subject: Kel Rosenfeld."
The words looked strangely official.
She nodded with satisfaction.
Then continued.
"Objective: Determine how his brain functions."
A pause.
She crossed it out.
Then rewrote:
"Determine if his brain functions."
The correction felt more accurate.
Because after witnessing last night—
She genuinely wasn't sure.
The scholar leaned comfortably against the branch.
Prepared.
Focused.
Ready.
The estate remained quiet.
Then—
A bedroom window opened.
Her eyes immediately sharpened.
Target acquired.
Kel had awakened.
The young heir stepped onto a balcony.
Morning sunlight illuminated his figure.
His silver hair moved gently with the wind.
The scholar immediately began writing.
"Subject awake."
A pause.
"Appears normal."
Another pause.
"Suspiciously normal."
She underlined that sentence twice.
Because normality had become suspicious where Kel was concerned.
Below—
Kel simply stretched.
Nothing unusual.
The scholar narrowed her eyes.
Waiting.
Surely something extraordinary would happen.
This was Kel Rosenfeld.
The boy who broke awakening theory.
The boy who rejected eighty-eight constellations.
The boy who connected to Space itself.
Something dramatic should happen.
Several minutes passed.
Nothing happened.
Kel simply stood there.
Watching the morning sky.
The scholar frowned.
Then wrote again.
"Subject appears to enjoy fresh air."
She stared at the sentence.
Then sighed.
Because it sounded ridiculous.
Yet it was technically accurate.
Unknown to her—
Inside the room.
A certain dragon guardian was laughing.
"Kel."
"Hm?"
"There is a priestess hiding in a tree."
A brief silence followed.
Kel slowly blinked.
"A what?"
"A priestess."
"Why?"
Sairen laughed harder.
"I think she wants to study you."
Kel remained silent.
Several moments passed.
Then he looked toward the distant tree.
Not directly.
Just enough.
And for a brief moment—
Scholar Mirielle felt an inexplicable chill.
As though something had noticed her.
The feeling vanished immediately.
She looked around.
Nothing.
The scholar relaxed.
Then returned to writing observations.
Completely unaware—
That her target already knew she was there.
And inside his room—
Kel quietly wondered whether every scholar on the continent was this strange.
Unfortunately for him—
The answer was no.
Scholar Mirielle was simply exceptional.
And thus began perhaps the strangest research project in the history of the Twelve Temples.
One scholar.
One impossible subject.
And an entire future full of headaches waiting to happen beneath the cold northern skies.