As they walked through the corridor, Ethan but now Azael couldn’t help but glance around. The mansion was enormous; crystal chandeliers hung from carved ceilings, golden-frad portraits lined the walls, and the scent of polished oak filled the air.
Yet despite its beauty, sothing about it felt... cold. Too silent. Like a ho that had forgotten warmth long ago. It looks silent.
When they finally reached the dining hall, the heavy double doors opened to reveal a long table that could seat twenty. Only two people were present.
At the head of the table sat a mature beauty. She was elegant, refined, and as distant as the moon. Her long golden-blonde hair was arranged in a perfect twist, her dark gown decorated with crimson lace. Her red eyes, calm but unreadable, lifted when she saw him. She was an extrely beautiful woman. Her face had soft make up. Yet she looked too much beautiful.
’She...is so beautiful....have I ever seen soone as beautiful as before?’ Azael thought.
Despite being one of the strongest in his past. Knowing lot of high profile figure. Beautiful won.
Yet he thinks that the woman in fron of him was far more beautiful than anyone he had t before.
Her skin was fair and smooth. She looked soft. What drew Azael’s eyes, however, was her chest. They were huge and round shaped. Perfectly held in beautiful curved by her gown. Below it was her thin waist.
’Damn! They are huge.’ Azael thought the mont his eyes fell on those heavy things.
Across from her sat a girl around his age, with the sa blonde hair and sharp red eyes. She looked up from her teacup with mild curiosity as he entered. She looked like a younger version of the mature woman.
"Good morning, Azael," the woman said. Her voice was smooth and formal. It was not cold, but not warm either. "You seem better today."
Azael stared at the two figure. Both looked like sisters. But the woman in front of feels more mature. More experienced.
Not forgetting she was Lady of this house.
Azael ca to a conclusion. She was mother of the young lady. Not her older sister.
"Good morning... Mother," Azael said, bowing slightly.
The woman sitting in fron of him stiffened. Her eyes widened a little in surprise, but it vanished just as quickly.
Her lips curved faintly, though there was little affection in it. "It’s rare for you to be awake this early."
She paused for a while. "...And you suddenly call mother. What’s gotten into you?"
The young girl who looked similar to his age smirked. "He might not be feeling well, Mother. I an, he usually faints before noon."
Azael only gave a worried smile.
’I don’t call her mother? Then what? Lady?Madam?Duchess’Azael thought. ’Isn’t she my mother? Was I actually wrong.’
While coming here, Azael had talked to the maid. He had learned at least that the one who called him was a Duchess. Basically, he had heard the maid calling her Duchess.
And he being a young master. Only led him to one sad and bitter conclusion. That she was his mother. It doesn’t matter if he was wrong. But he felt that he was not all wrong.
Though despite being her son, he couldn’t find any resemblance to her. He looked different from her.
The Duchess gave Liana a warning glance. "Liana, mind your tongue."
Liana shrugged but quieted down, her smirk still faintly lingering.
So...
Azael took his seat quietly, trying to rember his role.
The Duchess spoke again, her tone composed. "The physician said your condition has stabilized, but you should still avoid mana exertion for a few days. Your illness reacts poorly to stress. Yesterday your condition was too bad. It seems you are feeling better today."
"My... illness," Azael repeated softly. That must’ve been the cause of the fainting.
"Yes," she said. She frowned, taking a sip of tea. "You were born with a weak flow of mana... Why are you acting like this? Did your illness cause so problem with your mory now? ...Hah, really." she said with frowned on her otherworldly beautiful face.
"The Duke did his best to treat it before he passed, but even the best healers couldn’t completely cure it," she muttered under her breath.
Even though her voice was low, Azael heard it.
So that was it. An incurable condition. The perfect explanation for why this body had been dying.
"I see," he murmured. No one heard.
"It’s just my mind is still hazy about yesterday’s events. So it’s not that my mory has any problem, Mother."
Liana leaned forward slightly. "Well, at least you can walk again. You worried everyone when you collapsed yesterday. Just like alwyas."
Her tone was teasing, but her eyes carried a flicker of concern she probably didn’t notice herself.
Before Azael could reply, the Duchess set her teacup down gently. "We’ll be attending the spring gathering at House Levarin this evening. Your sister will be returning from her mission. I expect you to greet her properly."
Sister? Another one?
The Duchess seed to notice his confusion. "You rember your elder sister, don’t you? Lady Arista. She’s been away serving as the crown’s envoy in the northern provinces."
"Ah... right. Of course," Azael said quickly. "It’s been a long ti since she’s been gone... now that I think about it, how long has she been away?"
"Nearly a year," Liana replied. "And she’s still perfect at everything she does. She’s practically the heir of the entire house, after all."
The Duchess gave a soft nod. "Arista is the official successor to the Ignivar na. You should learn from her composure, Azael."
The words weren’t cruel. But rely factual. But for so reason, they stung.
It wasn’t bitterness. Just... the feeling of being unnecessary.
He forced a faint smile. "I’ll try."
The Duchess stood, adjusting her gloves. "Good. Ellire will help you prepare. Don’t tire yourself too much."
As she and Liana left the hall, their footsteps echoing across the polished floor, Azael let out a slow breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
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