Aether is it?

The west wing of the Lumire estate had always belonged to Vale.

Not out of favor—rather, because it was the furthest from the central hall, where most of the real power lingered. His room was the same as it had always been—clean, minimalist, draped in muted grays and silvers. But something about it felt smaller now, like his presence had outgrown it.

He let his bag fall onto the couch near the tall, arched window. The polished dagger he'd trained with at the Academy was still at his hip. He hadn't left it behind—not even at home.

It had become part of him now.

Outside, the wind stirred through the Lumire gardens, rustling the frost-kissed hedges. Inside, silence ruled.

Until someone knocked.

He didn't have to ask who it was.

The door creaked open and in stepped Cassian Lumire—the eldest of the Lumire siblings.

He was everything their father had always wanted in a son: poised, composed, politically lethal. He wore black with silver embroidery, his long coat sweeping slightly behind him. His face was sharp and unreadable, but his pale eyes showed a rare flicker of curiosity.

"So," Cassian said, closing the door behind him, "you're the one who embarrassed Victor."

Vale raised an eyebrow. "Is that what they're calling it?"

"He challenged you. You beat him. Father confirmed it with the steward. Even the guards are talking."

Vale blinked, then leaned against the windowsill. "Victor wasn't expecting me to fight like I did."

Cassian studied him for a moment. "You've changed."

"Three months at Aethercrest will do that."

"Aethercrest made you dangerous." Cassian's tone wasn't mocking. It was… thoughtful. "That school breaks more than it builds. But you seem sharper. More focused. What happened?"

Vale hesitated. He couldn't exactly say, *"I got isekai'd into a game and synced with the memories of my noble character who apparently knew how to fight."

So instead, he just shrugged.

"I started taking things seriously."

Cassian nodded, just once. "It suits you."

Then, as quietly as he came, he left.

Dinner at the Lumire estate was rarely more than a formality. The grand dining hall could seat fifty, but only seven chairs were filled.

At the head sat Count Darius Lumire, flanked by his sons and daughters—Victor, Cassian, Vale, Selene (the eldest daughter), and Elise (the youngest, still barely sixteen). Their mother, Lady Mirelle, sat at the other end of the table, ever poised behind her delicate wine glass.

As servants brought silver platters of roasted pheasant, spiced root vegetables, and chilled fruit wine, the air hung heavy with expectation. No one spoke unless spoken to. The clink of forks and soft whisper of goblets ruled the silence.

That was, until Elise broke form—because of course she did.

"You beat Victor?" she asked Vale, wide-eyed, leaning over the table. "Seriously?"

Victor scowled but didn't refute it.

Selene, calm and regal, raised a finely shaped brow. "That's… unexpected."

Vale glanced up from his meal. "Thanks, I guess?"

Lady Mirelle's lips twitched in amusement. "You never showed much talent with the blade before. Is that what the Academy's been teaching you?"

Vale cut into the pheasant with careful precision. "They teach a lot of things. Combat's just one of them."

"Must be more than that if you bested Victor," Selene mused, folding her hands. "He's never been beaten by a younger sibling."

"I was caught off guard," Victor grunted. "It won't happen again."

"Oh, I don't doubt that," Cassian said mildly, sipping his wine. "But it did happen. That's the point."

All eyes turned to Count Darius.

The head of House Lumire didn't raise his gaze from his plate. But he did speak.

"…Hmph."

Just a faint sound. A half-exhale.

But to anyone in the family, it was seismic.

Vale watched him carefully. In all his life, he could count on one hand the times his father had reacted to something he'd done—usually with disappointment. That hmph was the closest thing he'd ever gotten to acknowledgment.

And then, just as quickly, Darius returned to silence.

Indifference reasserted itself like a king upon his throne.

But the shift had happened.

And the others had noticed.

Later that evening, Vale found himself on the balcony overlooking the outer gardens, alone.

The stars above House Lumire glowed white and cold, distant like the bloodline they descended from. He leaned against the railing, one hand on his dagger, his thoughts distant.

This place still didn't feel like home.

Not even close.

But for the first time… he felt like he wasn't just occupying space within these walls. He had made a crack in the glass, even if it was hairline.

A door had opened—if just slightly.

And across the province, somewhere in her own distant estate, he wondered how Ava—Lyra—was faring with her own family.