A hoarse voice filled with disbelief echoed in the room. The man’s chest rose and fell heavily as if the words themselves were too heavy to carry. "How is this possible? It has been years since it started. Once taken, they can never be found out. So how can this happen?" His words trembled with both anger and fear. "We do not know what happened," the servant answered carefully, his head lowered. "Still, we should be cautious." The man sat in silence, his face darkened with a heavy shadow. For a moment his expression shifted, sharp and filled with dread, as though his very life was being weighed by unseen hands. His mind raced, trying to make sense of this sudden blow. He clenched his fists so tight that his knuckles turned red, then stood up with a loud thud, the sound of his chair falling back echoing across the cold chamber. "He, along with the others, is in the capital now. This is crucial. We should use this chance to leave." The servants gasped. Fear spread across their faces, and one of them stepped forward. "Leave? But my lord... if we leave now, everything will crumble. Everything you built will be lost." His voice shook as he spoke. The man’s eyes turned cold, filled with both anger and the sharp edge of despair. "That is better than dying," he said slowly. "You do not know his means. Once he finds out, he will not wait to listen. He will tear me apart first and only then start listening. So it is better to run while there is still a chance." The servants lowered their heads. Their eyes carried sadness, but they could not argue. They knew his words were true. All that they had built, all the sweat and blood that went into creating their home, might fall apart in an instant. The weight of that truth sank into their hearts. Silence followed. The air itself felt heavy, filled with the sorrow of what must be left behind. Back in the capital, the atmosphere was completely different. A grand stadium stretched wide, its stone walls towering with pride and strength. The seats were filled one after another, orderly and disciplined. Guards in polished armor stood along every pathway, their eyes sharp, their hands ready on the hilts of their weapons. Every corner was watched, leaving no room for mistakes. The streets leading to the stadium were lined with people. Carriages with noble crests arrived in a slow but steady stream. From every region of the empire, nobles had come, their clothes shining with fine fabric and jewels. They walked with grace, but there was also a trace of unease in their steps, for the weight of the event was clear. A loud cheer erupted as each notable figure entered, the voices of the crowd rising like waves. Applause followed one after another, echoing across the vast place. Yet, just as quickly, the noise began to fade when the announcer stepped forward. His voice was steady and commanding, reaching every corner of the stadium. "Ladies and gentlemen," he declared. "Please welcome the respected Grand Duke of the Heizen Empire and the noble Veydrin family." The entire stadium seemed to hold its breath. Heads turned, whispers rose among the people, and the tension in the air thickened. What had once been a celebration now felt like the beginning of sport. The crowd inside the stadium grew restless. The announcement had set every pair of eyes toward the large arched gate at the end of the hall. Guards in iron armor stood tall on both sides, their weapons gleaming under the torchlight. The banners of the empire waved proudly, yet another set of flags soon appeared, carried by soldiers dressed in black and silver. The flags of the Veydrin family. A chill swept through the place. Whispers died down. The air itself seemed to tighten when the first figure walked in. His steps were steady, slow, and firm. His face showed no hint of warmth. His cold eyes carried no emotion, only a sharp aura that pressed against everyone who looked at him. He wore a deep black coat lined with silver trim, and his presence alone silenced the hall. People did not dare to move, as if a single sound might offend him. Behind him walked Ramos. His back was bent and a wooden stick supported his weight, but his gaze was still steady and sharp. Even age could not hide the discipline carved into him. Every step he took carried the weight of someone who had seen too much and survived it. Next was Kael. He looked like a miniature reflection of Grand Duke Ruth. The same eyes, the same jaw, the same sharp aura, only younger. His dark clothes fit tight against his frame, and his movements carried control beyond his years. His eyes scanned the stadium like a hawk, calm yet heavy with focus. Beside him walked Adele. Her long purple hair shone under the lights, flowing down her shoulders like silk. She had the striking features of her mother Emilia, but the sharp edge of her behavior belonged to her father. Even her silence carried strength. Her steps were straight, her gaze clear. She looked like a young noblewoman, but no one who saw her could mistake her for weak. Follow current ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs on novel_fіre.net The banners of the Veydrin family waved high above them. The silver crest against black cloth seemed to cut through the air. Each flutter of the flags added to the power pressing down on the crowd. The announcer’s voice broke through the silence. "Ladies and gentlemen,once again welcome the respected Grand Duke Ruth of the Heizen Empire, with the honored Veydrin family." The hall erupted with applause, but it was not filled with joy. It was the applause of respect, of fear, of recognition. No noble dared to hold back, for the presence of the family demanded it. Grand Duke Ruth did not acknowledge the noise. His face stayed still, his eyes cold. He walked forward with the same sharp aura as if the applause had never happened. Kael followed him with his measured steps. Ramos pressed forward with his stick, his bent back refusing to bow to time. Adele’s purple hair swayed with her steps as her gaze swept across the nobles, calm but piercing. The guards surrounding them stood tall, their armor shining, their halberds upright. The banners behind them filled the hall with the power of the Veydrin name. The nobles in their fine robes lowered their voices to whispers as the family passed. Some looked with respect, some with envy, and others with fear. But no one dared to stop staring. The Veydrins were the first to arrive, their status making them lead the way. Behind them, the Dukes and Counts would follow in turn. Soon, one by one, other Dukes began to enter. The first was Duke Salvatore. His wife walked at his side, her face calm and composed. The moment Salvatore entered, his eyes fell on Ruth. At once Ruth’s cold gaze met his, and for a brief moment, silence passed between the two. There was weight in that silence, a heavy past that neither of them could ignore. Luke had heard of the matter and knew what had happened. Ruth had sent a special message to him, informing him of what had transpired. All his life, Salvatore had cursed and hated the Veydrins, especially Ruth. The resentment had burned for years. But after learning that Jess had a hand in the tragedy, his heart was filled with anger toward her instead. The thought of Jess made his blood boil. She had been the maid handpicked by Emilia herself, trusted above all others. Who could have known that she would turn and betray them? He wanted nothing more than to rush in and cut her apart with his own hands. At that moment, Alina placed her hand on his arm. He turned to her and gave a small nod. His breath calmed, and he moved forward, leading her towards the stands. Following him came Duke Serpentine and Duke Wilhelm. Both entered with quiet strength, their steps steady and their faces grave. They made their way toward the stands without pause, their eyes briefly scanning the hall. Then came Duke Martin De Ruther. At his side was his daughter, Elara De Ruther. Elara’s face carried a soft and loving look as she glanced at the crowd. Her smile was warm, her presence gentle. Yet as she appeared, the expression of the crowd turned solemn. Their gazes shifted from Martin to Kael, and whispers spread through the air. All eyes seemed to measure the space between them, waiting for some sign. To their shock, Kael did not react. He did not even glance at Elara. Instead, his hand played with the small dragon-like lizard resting around his neck. A gentle smile spread across his face as he stroked its tiny scales. The little creature chirped softly, curling around his shoulder as if it was the only thing that mattered. Elara’s expression froze. She stood still, her smile faltering as her eyes remained locked on Kael. The Kael she remembered was nowhere to be seen. Before, he had always looked at her with longing, his eyes filled with softness. But now there was nothing. There was no recognition, no warmth, only indifference. The difference between the Kael of the past and the Kael before her now was like heaven and hell. The silence that followed pressed heavily around them. Elara lowered her eyes, her heart tightening as if something precious had slipped away.