I arrived at the dining hall.
Just as I had expected, Charlotte had already beaten me there.
The moment she noticed I was the last to arrive, a mischievous grin spread across her face.
There was unmistakable satisfaction in her eyes, as though she had just discovered yet another excuse to tease me.
"You're late, Ian. Don't tell me those romantic novels are more tempting than sharing supper with your family."
I answered only with a faint smile.
No protest.
No explanation.
Just an awkward little smile that caused Charlotte to raise an eyebrow, clearly puzzled by my reaction.
For a brief moment, my gaze wandered across the dining hall.
Everyone had already gathered.
Before I realized it, their eyes had briefly settled on me as well.
I frowned slightly.
Grandfather wasn't here.
Had he not returned yet?
Since I had spent most of the afternoon secluded in my room with a book, I had no idea he had actually come home much earlier.
Sensing my confusion, Grandmother spoke before I could ask.
She said very little.
With her usual gentle smile, she simply gestured toward the empty seat beside Lucas.
"Come, my dear. Take your seat."
"Yes, Grandmother. Thank you."
I gave a small nod before asking, "But... where is Grandfather?"
"He was called away by an urgent matter with the City Lord. There's no need to worry about him."
Hearing that answer, I quietly took my seat.
As one of the senior executives of the Brandenburg Merchants' Guild, Grandfather possessed tremendous influence.
His name was known throughout the city.
He maintained strong relationships with both the nobility and the city's officials alike.
So long as no danger threatened his life, there were very few people capable of shaking his position.
With that in mind, I dismissed the matter from my thoughts.
Instead, my attention shifted toward Lucas, who sat beside me.
Strange.
His expression was unusually subdued today.
Normally, he was always smiling, forever finding something new to talk about.
Yet now he seemed remarkably quiet.
Had something happened?
Or...
Had he gotten himself into trouble again after flirting with far too many noble ladies?
Who knew?
Honestly, that possibility felt the most believable.
Not long afterward, Grandmother led us in a brief prayer.
Once it had ended, she invited everyone to enjoy the meal laid before us.
Thus, supper quietly began.
I picked up my knife.
Carefully, I cut a piece of the meat resting upon my plate.
Then I brought it to my mouth.
It was astonishingly tender.
Warm.
So delicate that it nearly melted against my tongue.
The seasoning had seeped deep into every bite, filling it with a wonderfully rich flavor.
Before I realized it, I had already cut another piece.
Across the table, Dorothea sat quietly in her chair.
Adela patiently sliced her daughter's meat into smaller portions, making it easier for the little girl to eat.
The gesture was so natural.
So full of quiet affection.
It was the gentle gaze of a mother caring for her beloved child.
Watching them reminded me of Karina.
Mother often did the very same thing for her.
Even though Karina could be so peculiar and impossible to predict, Mother's affection for her had never diminished in the slightest.
Grandmother's voice gently pulled me from my thoughts.
"Ian. Charlotte."
The two of us lifted our heads almost simultaneously.
"Yes, Grandmother."
She gave a slow nod, making certain she had our full attention.
There was an unusual seriousness within her eyes.
"The day after tomorrow, the two of you will depart for the Imperial Capital."
Those words caused a brief silence to settle over the dining hall.
"It's earlier than we originally planned. You should have been able to remain here for a few more days."
Neither of us spoke.
"But...Our plans have changed."
Grandmother drew a slow, measured breath.
There was a noticeable weight behind it.
As though the news she was about to reveal was far from easy to say aloud.
The warmth that had filled the supper table only moments before gradually gave way to a quiet, solemn stillness.
Everyone waited for Grandmother's explanation to continue.
Yet something wholly unexpected happened.
Dorothea slowly lifted her face to look at her grandmother.
Marianne's words had shaken the little girl's heart far more deeply than anyone had anticipated.
She did not even have time to think about proper manners.
The emotions welling inside her overflowed before anything else.
Shaking her head over and over, she spoke in a trembling voice filled with panic.
"No... Big Sister Charlotte can't leave yet. She can't. Dorothea hasn't had enough time to play with Big Sister."
Her innocent plea plunged the dining hall into silence once more.
For a long moment, no one answered.
Dorothea's sapphire-blue eyes slowly turned toward Charlotte.
Tears shimmered within them.
It seemed they needed only the slightest push before they spilled over.
Adela, seated beside her, was about to speak.
So was Marianne.
But Charlotte moved first.
She gently set her knife upon the plate.
Then she offered the warm smile that never failed to soothe Dorothea's heart.
"Big Sister isn't leaving just yet, Dorothea. Tomorrow I'll spend the entire day with you. We'll play together, eat together, and when night falls, we'll sleep together again. Doesn't that sound nice?"
Dorothea gently bit her lower lip.
The worry had not completely left her eyes.
"Promise me, Big Sister. Please don't leave. If you go... who will play with Dorothea anymore? I've missed you so much... so you mustn't leave."
Charlotte nodded without allowing her gentle smile to fade.
"Of course. I promise. Tomorrow belongs to the two of us."
Hearing those words, the brightness slowly returned to Dorothea's face.
Although her eyes still glistened with tears, none of them fell.
"I love you, Big Sister Charlotte."
Charlotte's smile became even softer.
"And Big Sister loves you just as much, Dottie."
I watched the scene unfold in silence.
Tonight's supper had turned out very differently from what I had expected.
Throughout the meal, Aunt Adela had scarcely spoken a single word.
Managing the affairs of House Handler already weighed heavily upon her every day.
And now...
Dorothea's innocent plea had undoubtedly added another burden to her heart.
No mother could watch her daughter grieve without sharing that pain herself.
My gaze slowly drifted to the seat beside me.
Lucas.
He was quietly watching his little sister.
Though he tried to conceal it, the sadness lingering behind his light-brown eyes remained impossible to hide.
As the eldest son of House Handler, the weight of responsibility was gradually settling upon his shoulders.
He would inherit the family.
He would have to learn how to lead.
Yet at the very same time...
He also wished to protect the little sister he cherished so dearly.
A faint smile slowly appeared upon his face.
Seeing that Charlotte had succeeded in comforting Dorothea, he seemed to relax ever so slightly.
The promise could delay their farewell for only a single day.
But at least...
Tomorrow still belonged to them.
Dorothea would still be smiling.
For now, that alone was enough.
At that very moment, Lucas noticed someone continually glancing in his direction.
He turned his head.
His eyes met mine.
As though refusing to let the atmosphere sink back into melancholy, Lucas forced himself to become his usual cheerful self once more.
A playful grin spread across his face.
"What is it, Ian? Am I so handsome that you simply can't stop staring at me?"
The silence that had settled over the dining hall shattered almost instantly.
Soft laughter rose from every side of the table.
Charlotte laughed louder than anyone.
That familiar mischievous grin returned to her face.
She raised a finger, pointed at Lucas, then shifted it toward me before turning to Dorothea with an exaggeratedly serious expression.
"Now then, Dorothea. Look very carefully. Never grow up to be like these two. Lucas and Ian have just demonstrated a truly dreadful example."
Dorothea blinked several times.
She looked utterly bewildered.
"What did they do wrong, Big Sister?"
Charlotte smiled mysteriously.
"That... is a lesson for another day. I'll explain it when we're alone. Right now, my sweet Dottie is still far too innocent to understand."
Those words drew a helpless sigh from Lucas.
His cousin always managed to find a new excuse to tease him.
Perhaps that was why the two of them could never truly get along.
Neither was willing to surrender an inch unless the other yielded first.
As for me, I could only rub my temple in resignation.
I honestly had no idea why I had been dragged into this.
Charlotte always found a reason to make me the target of her teasing.
Her gaze then shifted toward Adela.
Smiling warmly, she asked, "Aunt Adela, Dorothea and I would like to sleep together again tonight. That is all right, isn't it?"
Adela looked at her daughter, whose bright smile had finally returned.
Then her eyes settled upon Charlotte.
A gentle smile blossomed across her lips, accompanied by a small, understanding nod.
"Of course. Aunt has no objection."
The instant those words were spoken, Dorothea's face lit up with joy once again.
That small happiness seemed to wash away every trace of sorrow that had filled her heart only moments before.
And seeing her daughter's smile bloom once more made Adela's own heart feel infinitely lighter.
Grandmother, who had been quietly observing the atmosphere around the dining table, slowly shifted her gaze toward Charlotte and me.
Her light brown eyes remained calm.
Yet there was a seriousness within them that could not be hidden.
"Ian. Charlotte."
Both of us immediately turned toward her.
"Yes, Grandma."
Our replies came almost at the same time.
Across the table, Aunt Adela merely gave a small nod.
As though the matter Marianne wished to discuss was not new to her at all.
More than likely, the two of them had already spoken about it beforehand.
Marianne continued in a gentle voice.
"We shall discuss this matter together with your aunt in my room later."
"Of course, Grandma."
She nodded in satisfaction.
"For now, continue your meal."
And so the conversation came to a temporary end.
No one brought up the journey to the Imperial Capital again.
At least, not tonight.
Even so, the warmth that had filled the dining hall left behind a faint trace of melancholy.
Not because of conflict.
Nor because of tension.
But because a farewell was steadily drawing closer.
A few more days.
Only a few more days.
Then Ian and Charlotte would leave Brandenburg behind.
The feeling was both familiar and strange.
It was the same feeling the Weiser family experienced whenever Charlotte and Ian departed from home.
James.
Irene.
Ryan.
Karina.
They had all endured the same sense of loss.
And now the Handler family was experiencing it as well.
As the closest of relatives, the bond between the two families had long surpassed ordinary ties of blood.
Irene regarded Marianne Handler as a mother.
Not merely an aunt.
Not merely a relative.
But someone who had filled the emptiness left behind by her own mother.
The same was true for Irene's children.
They had grown up calling Marianne their grandmother.
And Marianne had accepted that title with all her heart.
There had never been any distance between them.
Never any distinction.
Within her heart, Irene had long ago become a daughter she cherished just as dearly as Adela.
A precious reminder of the beloved elder sister who had departed from this world far too soon.
Because of that, Charlotte, Ian, Karina, and Ryan were also her grandchildren in every way that truly mattered.
The affection she gave them was never measured.
Never compared.
And never diminished.
Decades ago, the death of her elder sister had shattered a piece of her heart.
They had grown up together.
Shared their childhood.
Shared their laughter.
Shared their dreams.
Then one day, it all came to an end.
The loss left behind a wound so deep that even time itself required years to soften its pain.
Back then, Martin had remained by her side.
Though he carried wounds of his own from a complicated relationship with his father.
Though he bore countless burdens upon his shoulders.
He still did everything he could to comfort his wife.
He remained beside Marianne when her world seemed to crumble apart.
And amidst that sorrow...
Irene continued to grow.
With each passing year, she resembled her mother more and more.
Her smile.
The light within her eyes.
Most of all, the pink hair she shared with both Marianne and her late sister.
Even certain little habits she herself never noticed.
The resemblance was uncanny.
At times, it hurt.
At times, it brought comfort.
As though fate had preserved fragments of an old memory within a child so that grief would not feel quite so cruel.
Slowly.
Little by little.
Irene filled the empty place left behind by her mother.
Not as a replacement.
For no one could ever replace the departed.
But enough to warm Marianne's heart once more.
Enough to help her smile again.
And Marianne would always remain grateful that Adela had welcomed Irene with open arms.
Never jealous.
Never resentful.
Instead, she loved Irene as though they were true sisters born of the same parents.
That bond endured into the next generation.
Now their children had inherited the same closeness.
Marianne blinked slowly.
For a brief moment, her thoughts drifted into memories long buried within the depths of her heart.
Gradually, the sounds of the dining hall returned to her awareness.
She rested comfortably against the velvet-lined chair.
Her gaze moved across the faces of her grandchildren.
They chatted amongst themselves, and she made no effort to interrupt, allowing the dining hall to remain lively and full of color.
Then her eyes settled upon Ian and Charlotte.
Thanks to the connections Martin possessed within the Imperial Capital, the letters of recommendation required for admission into the Imperial Academy had finally been secured.
It had not been easy.
Yet neither had it been impossible.
Especially for a man of her husband's influence.
Still, Marianne's reason for supporting her grandchildren's departure was far simpler than politics or connections.
She knew how gifted they were.
Especially Ian and Charlotte.
No.
More accurately...
All of Irene's children were different from ordinary children.
The signs had been evident since they were very young.
Their abilities.
The way they thought.
The speed at which they learned and understood new things.
Everything about them exceeded common expectations.
And among all those peculiarities, there was one person who had always quietly intrigued Marianne.
James Wieser.
Irene's husband.
A man who seemed to have appeared from nowhere.
A man who rarely spoke of his past.
To most people, that would mean very little.
But to Marianne, who had spent her life dealing with merchants, nobles, and influential figures, something about him had always felt unusual.
James's aura.
His manner of speaking.
His composure.
His bearing.
All of it reminded her of the nobility.
Not ordinary nobles.
But someone accustomed to moving among the highest circles of society.
That was why, years ago, Marianne had conducted a discreet investigation.
Not because she suspected ill intentions.
But because she worried for Irene.
She wanted to know the identity of the man who had married her beloved niece.
Yet the result...
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
No records.
No traces.
No past.
It was as though James Weiser had never existed before appearing in Irene's life.
And that was precisely what made Marianne even more suspicious.
Because erasing every trace of a person's existence was no simple feat.
Even she, a member of the wealthiest merchant family in Brandenburg, could not accomplish such a thing.
Only the highest-ranking nobles.
Or those who wielded extraordinary power.
Could conceal someone's identity so completely.
Yet in the end, none of it mattered anymore.
It simply did not matter.
As long as he treated Irene well.
For Marianne, that alone was enough.
The man loved Irene.
Protected Irene.
And built a warm, loving family beside her.
There was no reason for Marianne to concern herself with whatever past James chose to leave behind.
After all, James was a good man for Irene.
Throughout the many years Marianne had observed their married life, she had never found anything that disappointed her.
He was responsible.
Caring.
And he always placed his family above most other things.
If there was one aspect of the man that remained difficult to understand, it was only the past shrouded behind an impenetrable veil of mystery.
Beyond that, there was scarcely a flaw she could find.
The evening meal gradually came to an end.
One by one, family members began leaving the dining hall.
Servants moved quietly about the room, clearing away plates and utensils.
The lively conversations that had once filled the chamber slowly faded into silence.
Marianne rose from her seat.
She was no longer a young woman.
Though her health remained strong, she could still feel the weariness of a long day settling gently upon her shoulders.
With calm and graceful steps, she departed from the dining hall.
The corridors of the mansion, illuminated by the warm glow of crystal lamps, welcomed her passage.
Several servants bowed respectfully whenever they crossed her path.
Marianne acknowledged them with nothing more than a slight nod.
As she walked, her thoughts gradually drifted back toward memories long buried within the past.
Memories from many years ago.
Back when Irene was still much younger.
Back when a man named James Wieser first stepped into her niece's life.
In truth, Marianne herself had been one of the people most responsible for their marriage.
Together with the village chief of that time and Peter, she had offered her full support to their relationship.
Not out of pity.
Nor because circumstances had forced their hand.
But because they had seen something genuinely good within James.
The man might have been mysterious.
Yet he was not a bad person.
He was kind.
And most importantly...
Irene had chosen him.
Marianne could still remember the look in Irene's eyes whenever she spoke of James.
A gaze that could never be fabricated.
The gaze of a woman who had already entrusted her heart to another.
As Irene's guardian and the closest thing she had to a mother, Marianne had never viewed marriage as a tool for profit or advantage.
She despised the notion of treating children as commodities to be traded for political influence or commercial gain.
If two people truly loved one another.
If they respected one another.
If the man possessed good character.
Then that alone was already a strong foundation upon which to grant her blessing.
Of course, there were other matters that still had to be considered.
Marriage could not survive on love alone.
Life required food.
Shelter.
And the ability to endure hardship when difficult times arrived.
That was why Martin had once said something she still remembered to this very day.
A husband should, at the very least, possess the ability to provide for his family.
He did not need to be wealthy.
He did not need to surround his household with luxury.
But he should be capable of ensuring that his wife did not suffer unnecessary hardship.
The advice had come from Martin himself.
A man who had long regarded Irene as his own daughter.
And James fulfilled every one of those requirements.
He worked diligently.
He possessed talent and capability.
He carried a strong sense of responsibility.
He frequently helped the villagers whenever they were in need, and his relationship with the Temple of the Gods was so respected that many affectionately referred to him as a benefactor who had fallen from the heavens.
And above all else, he treated Irene exceptionally well.
Even after all these years, that devotion had never diminished.
Remembering those days caused the corners of Marianne's lips to lift into a faint smile.
Time had proven that her decision had not been a mistake.
Irene was happy.
She had a warm and loving family.
And children who were growing into remarkable individuals.
Was that not what every mother wished for?
Her thoughts remained occupied by many things.
Ian.
Charlotte.
Their upcoming journey to the Imperial Capital.
And the future that was slowly opening before the next generation.
Yet for tonight, she did not wish to dwell too deeply upon any of it.
There were times when one simply had to entrust the future to the passage of time.
Just as she had once entrusted Irene's future to the choice of her own heart.
At length, Marianne arrived before her chamber.
Her hand gently pushed open the door.
Then she stepped inside.
The day after tomorrow, Ian and Charlotte would leave Brandenburg behind.
They would travel toward a place far greater.
Far more complicated.
And far more dangerous.
"The Imperial Capital..."
The thought drifted quietly through her mind.
"They will be departing alongside Adela and..."
Her thoughts naturally turned toward Dorothea, who would undoubtedly be heartbroken when the day of farewell finally arrived.
The image of her youngest granddaughter appeared within her mind.
Without realizing it, Marianne's brow furrowed slightly.
She could easily imagine Dorothea's reaction when the separation became reality.
Yet after a few moments, her expression softened once more.
"Dottie will grow accustomed to it. Just as she did during all those times when Charlotte was away from this house."
Even so, deep within her heart, Marianne understood a simple truth.
Some farewells could be accepted.
But they never truly became easy.
The night at the Handler residence was still far from over.
Beyond the door of Marianne's chamber, Adela, Charlotte, and Ian had already arrived.