The night of the banquet had arrived.
Outside Rosenfeld Estate, winter winds swept across the mountain cliffs.
Snow drifted through the darkness like wandering spirits.
Ancient dragon statues stood atop towers and battlements, their massive stone forms illuminated by countless magical lanterns.
The entire fortress glowed beneath the night sky.
Golden lights reflected across snow-covered pathways.
Dragon banners fluttered proudly in the cold northern winds.
Far below the mountain, an endless procession of noble carriages climbed the winding roads leading toward the ancestral seat of House Rosenfeld.
One after another.
Without end.
Nobles.
Merchants.
Military officers.
Guild representatives.
Influential figures from across the Empire.
Everyone had come.
Tonight was more than a birthday celebration.
It was an introduction.
The North's future heir would finally step into the Empire's gaze.
Inside the fortress, countless servants moved through decorated halls.
The atmosphere felt grand.
Majestic.
Yet strangely tense.
Like the calm before a storm.
Meanwhile—
Far away from the gathering nobles.
Far away from the bustling halls.
Inside a quiet chamber located near the eastern wing of the estate—
Kel stood before a full-length mirror.
Silence filled the room.
Only the crackling sound of a nearby fireplace could be heard.
Warm orange flames danced behind an ornate silver grate.
The room itself remained largely unchanged since his childhood.
Bookshelves lined the walls.
Ancient maps hung within elegant frames.
The scent of cedar wood and old parchment lingered in the air.
Kel stood motionless.
Several servants had already completed their work and departed.
Only Marine remained.
The trusted maid adjusted the final details of his formal attire.
A black noble coat embroidered with silver dragon patterns.
A long ceremonial cloak woven from enchanted northern wolf fur.
Silver buttons engraved with the Rosenfeld crest.
Black gloves.
Dark trousers.
Polished boots.
Elegant.
Simple.
Powerful.
The clothing reflected House Rosenfeld itself.
Not excessive luxury.
Not unnecessary extravagance.
Only quiet authority.
Marine stepped back.
Her sharp eyes carefully inspected every detail.
Then nodded.
"Acceptable."
Kel almost smiled.
Coming from Marine, that was practically a compliment.
"You look exactly like your father."
Kel raised an eyebrow.
"Should I be concerned?"
Marine considered it.
Then nodded.
"Yes."
Kel sighed.
The maid's expression remained perfectly serious.
Then she adjusted his collar one final time.
"There."
For several moments, neither spoke.
Then Marine quietly left the room.
The door softly closed behind her.
Silence returned.
Kel stood alone.
His reflection stared back from the mirror.
Silver hair.
Silver eyes.
Black ceremonial attire.
A young noble standing at the threshold of adulthood.
For a brief moment—
His thoughts wandered.
Toward Frostbound.
Toward Lyra.
Toward Marcus.
Toward the Unwritten Horizon Guild.
Toward Aetherial Institute.
Toward countless futures waiting ahead.
Then—
A familiar voice echoed inside his mind.
"You clean up surprisingly well."
Kel immediately recognized the voice.
Seiren.
Far away within the waters of Scarder Lake.
The Guardian laughed softly through their soul bond.
"Honestly, I almost didn't recognize you."
Kel glanced toward the mirror.
"That is concerning."
"No."
Her voice carried amusement.
"Normally you look like someone preparing to solve a national crisis."
"Today you look like a noble."
Kel decided not to comment.
The lake guardian continued.
"Actually..."
Her voice became thoughtful.
"I've been wondering about something."
Kel already sensed trouble.
"What?"
Several moments passed.
Then Seiren asked:
"Your father is the youngest among the three brothers, correct?"
"Correct."
"Then why is he Duke?"
Kel blinked.
Unexpected question.
"Shouldn't the eldest brother inherit?"
The curiosity in her voice felt genuine.
"And another thing."
Kel sighed.
Of course there was more.
"If inheritance follows the eldest line..."
"Why are you the heir?"
"Shouldn't the eldest son of the eldest branch inherit?"
For several moments, silence filled the room.
Snow drifted beyond the windows.
The flames crackled softly nearby.
Then Kel smiled faintly.
Because Seiren's confusion was understandable.
The inheritance system of House Rosenfeld was different from most noble families.
Very different.
"You are thinking according to normal noble standards."
"Aren't those the standards?"
"No."
Kel calmly walked toward the window.
The mountain fortress spread below.
Countless lights illuminated the night.
Beyond the walls.
Beyond the cliffs.
The North stretched endlessly beneath darkness.
Ancient.
Powerful.
Unforgiving.
Then Kel answered.
"Technically speaking."
"My eldest uncle should have inherited."
Seiren immediately responded.
"See?"
"Technically."
Kel emphasized the word.
The lake guardian became quiet.
Listening.
"My father is the youngest of three brothers."
"However."
"House Rosenfeld does not operate solely through birth order."
Kel's silver eyes reflected distant lights.
"Power matters."
"Capability matters."
"Influence matters."
"Potential matters."
The words echoed softly within the room.
Then he continued.
"My great-grandfather evaluated all three sons."
"The result was obvious."
No arrogance.
No pride.
Simply fact.
"My father surpassed them."
The answer was simple.
Direct.
Absolute.
Seiren remained silent.
So Kel continued.
"In military capability."
"In political influence."
"In personal strength."
"In leadership."
"In future potential."
"My father stood above his brothers."
Therefore—
"He became Duke."
Far away.
Seiren seemed surprised.
"The others accepted that?"
Kel nodded.
"Because they understood it."
"House Rosenfeld rules the North."
"The North is not forgiving."
"The strongest leader must stand at the front."
For several moments—
Only the wind spoke.
Then Seiren laughed softly.
"Interesting."
"Very dragon-like."
Kel raised an eyebrow.
"Dragon-like?"
"The strongest becomes leader."
"...Fair enough."
The Guardian seemed pleased with the comparison.
Then another question emerged.
"What about you?"
Kel already knew what she meant.
"The heir position."
"Yes."
"Same principle."
Silence followed.
Then Kel calmly explained.
"If the curse had remained."
"If I had continued growing weaker."
"If my future became uncertain."
"My position as heir would naturally disappear."
The words carried no emotion.
Only reality.
Seiren immediately understood.
"Roland."
"Yes."
The eldest son of the eldest branch.
Count Roland Rosenfeld.
Powerful.
Talented.
Respected.
A capable leader.
If Kel had remained cursed—
Roland would likely stand where Kel stood now.
And no one would question it.
The North valued results.
Not sentiment.
Then Kel continued.
"But the curse is gone."
The mountain winds howled outside.
The fire crackled softly.
The atmosphere became strangely solemn.
"My achievements exist."
"Frostbound exists."
"My accomplishments exist."
"The future I demonstrated exists."
The facts spoke for themselves.
No further explanation required.
Then Kel calmly added:
"Therefore no one questions my position."
Far away—
Seiren remained quiet.
Thinking.
Understanding.
Then finally she spoke.
"So being heir isn't automatic."
"No."
"It's a title."
"Yes."
"A position."
"Yes."
"Something earned."
"Correct."
The Guardian fell silent once more.
Then suddenly laughed.
Softly.
Amused.
"That means anyone can challenge you."
Kel nodded.
"Anyone from House Rosenfeld."
"And if they win?"
"They become heir."
Silence.
Then Seiren immediately replied.
"That's insane."
Kel smiled slightly.
"Welcome to the North."
The Guardian laughed.
A long laugh.
A genuine laugh.
Then finally asked:
"Has anyone challenged you?"
Kel thought about it.
Then shook his head.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because most of them are intelligent."
Seiren burst into laughter again.
Far away within Scarder Lake, waves crashed against ancient shores.
The soul bond transmitted every emotion perfectly.
Amusement.
Warmth.
Curiosity.
Then—
The Guardian's voice softened.
More serious.
More thoughtful.
"Do you want it?"
The question lingered.
Unexpected.
Simple.
Yet important.
Do you want to become Duke?
The future ruler of the North.
The next leader of House Rosenfeld.
The position waiting beyond the horizon.
Kel looked toward the snowy landscape beyond the fortress.
For several moments—
He remained silent.
Then answered honestly.
"I don't know."
Seiren blinked.
"You don't?"
"No."
The answer surprised even him.
Because it was true.
Years ago.
The position had felt inevitable.
Then came the curse.
Then Frostbound.
Then exploration.
Then countless experiences.
The world had become much larger.
Much more complicated.
Eventually he spoke again.
"I don't seek the title."
The firelight reflected within his silver eyes.
"But."
His voice remained calm.
Steady.
Certain.
"If I become Duke."
"I will do the job properly."
Those words carried conviction.
Responsibility.
The weight of countless decisions.
The weight of leadership.
The weight of a future ruler.
Far away—
Seiren smiled.
She could hear it.
The sincerity.
The certainty.
The same reason Frostbound followed him.
The same reason Lyra trusted him.
The same reason people believed in him.
Then—
A knock sounded from the door.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
The telepathic conversation paused.
"Enter."
The door opened.
Marine appeared.
Perfectly composed.
As always.
"The guests have arrived."
Kel nodded.
The moment had come.
The banquet.
The nobles.
The Empire.
The beginning of a new chapter.
He took one final glance toward the window.
Toward the North.
Then turned.
His cloak flowed behind him.
The silver dragon crest upon his chest gleamed beneath the firelight.
As he walked toward the door—
Seiren's final message echoed through their soul bond.
Warm.
Playful.
And slightly mocking.
"Try not to accidentally become engaged tonight."
Kel nearly stopped walking.
Then calmly replied.
"...I am ending this conversation."
The Guardian's laughter followed him all the way out of the room.
And beyond the chamber doors—
The future waited.