The last rays of the setting sun streamed through the windowsill of the study in Monte Castle, plating the room in a soft, golden light.

Murphy sat quietly in a custom-made oak wheelchair. The backrest and armrests were lined with thick, deep-red velvet cushions, and a matching woolen blanket was draped over his lap, reaching his waist.

Compared to the pale, frail man he had been eight years ago, his complexion was now calm, even slightly ruddy. His serene gaze was fixed on the gradually dimming sky outside, as if an invisible curtain separated him from the world.

Aurora sat beside him in a high-backed armchair, holding an unfolded letter.

The stationery was of fine quality, its edges stamped with a faint golden Purple Eagle crest.

"...The dispute over the funds for the Holy Image’s restoration has finally been settled for now, using a few compromise clauses from the old canons. The document sent by the Northern Shepherd Chief District last month was still distant in tone, but at least they didn’t return it directly as they did three years ago. Lord Saint Cyril’s energy has been waning lately, yet he still asks about the progress of the Holy Edict Record’s proofreading every day. I can handle these matters proficiently now, but I still feel the weight in my hand when approving the pleas from the Land of Suffering."

She paused briefly, looking up at Murphy.

Murphy was still gazing out the window, his expression unchanged, as if he were listening to a story that had nothing to do with him.

Aurora looked away and continued reading, "The day before yesterday, while organizing old archives, I happened upon the casualty and supply records from Blackstone Fortress eleven years ago. The numbers are still shocking to look at today. It reminded me of what you once said: once you choose a path, you must bear the costs yourself. Over the years, every time I receive a reply from the Monte Territory and learn that you are ’as usual,’ I feel a little more at ease. I’ve already arranged for the quarterly allotment of the Dew of Dawn to be sent to the Monte Territory. While it is no miracle cure, it should have some minor effect in nurturing Life Energy and soothing old pains. Please do not refuse it..."

She took a soft breath and read the final paragraph: "The spring in the Northern Lands is cold; please take care of yourself. There have been storms in the Holy City recently as well, but its foundations remain stable, so there is no need to worry. May the tranquility of Oriane always be with Monte Castle."

The letter was finished.

Aurora gently folded the letter, placed it on her lap, and did not speak immediately, simply waiting in silence.

A brief silence fell over the study, broken only by the soft crackle of firewood in the hearth.

After a long moment, Murphy’s gaze finally shifted from the window back to Aurora. "When you reply, don’t say much else. Just say that all is as usual in the Monte Territory, and that I hope she remains true to herself and walks a steady path in the Holy City."

He paused briefly before continuing, "I am also as usual. The Dew of Dawn... Tell her I appreciate her trouble."

Aurora nodded, the light of the hearth reflected in her azure eyes, gentle and serene. "I understand."

Just then, the sound of approaching footsteps came from outside the study.

KNOCK KNOCK!

"Come in," Murphy answered.

The door was pushed open, and Kaiden and Alina entered, one after the other.

They first bowed respectfully to Murphy in his wheelchair and Aurora in her chair.

"Father, Mother," Kaiden began. His gaze rested for a moment on his father’s calm but slightly weary face before shifting to the letter in his mother’s hand. "The Imperial Envoy has been settled in. The banquet is also ready. Mother, what do you think..."

Aurora put away Elizabeth’s letter and gave Kaiden a gentle smile. "Thank you for your hard work. The banquet will proceed as planned. I will be there on time. How did the afternoon meeting with Miss Adela and Sir Carl go?"

Kaiden and Alina exchanged a look. Alina took half a step forward and replied in a soft voice, "Mother, the meeting was successful overall. Miss Adela is pragmatic and sharp, with a firm grasp of the details of our cooperation. As for Sir Carl, he seemed a bit distracted at first,"

She paused. "But he eventually got on track. We’ve reached a preliminary agreement for three quarters’ supply of pig iron and special steel ingots, as well as an exclusive procurement intent for a batch of printed woolen cloth. The specific prices and shipping guarantees will need to be finalized in subsequent documents."

Kaiden added, "In addition, Miss Adela privately passed on a letter addressed specifically to you, Father, from Lord Colvin, the current Commander of the Imperial Iron Wall Guard."

As he spoke, he took a letter sealed with the Imperial eagle wax seal from his coat and presented it with both hands.

Aurora took the letter and handed it to Murphy.

Murphy’s gaze fell on the familiar wax seal before he reached out to take it.

He did not open the letter, merely placing it casually on the woolen blanket on his lap as if it were nothing of importance.

"Colvin..." Murphy repeated the name under his breath.

Kaiden hesitated for a moment before asking, "Father, this letter..."

Murphy shook his head, his voice flat and calm. "Just old matters. They have nothing to do with the territory’s current affairs."

He looked up at his son and daughter-in-law. "You’ve done well. The trade with the Empire can proceed according to the established principles. No need to be overly enthusiastic, nor deliberately cold. Just maintain the independence and interests of the Monte Territory. Ignore the rest."

"Yes, Father," Kaiden and Alina replied in unison.

"Your mother and you two will host the banquet," Murphy continued. "I will not be attending."

Hearing this, Aurora reached out and gently placed her hand on the back of Murphy’s, which rested on the wheelchair’s armrest. Her fingertips felt a little cool.

She said softly, "You just focus on resting. We’ll handle things outside."

Murphy turned his hand over and gently squeezed her fingertips.

Then, he turned his gaze back to the twilight that had already fallen outside. Beneath the weariness in his profound eyes, something even deeper seemed to stir in the silence.

...

The banquet was held in the main hall of Monte Castle, and the atmosphere was quite amicable.

Aurora was a fine host, Kaiden and Alina handled themselves appropriately, and with Adela herself being well-mannered and clear in her objectives, the hosts and guests engaged in another round of ceremonial confirmations regarding the preliminary trade agreement.

Only Carl, despite maintaining a veneer of etiquette, couldn’t hide the irritation and faint disdain in his expression from a careful observer.

He felt an indescribable awkwardness toward the Northern Territory’s "simple" cuisine, the decor that was less luxurious than that of the Imperial Court, and even the Monte Clan’s attitude—neither servile nor arrogant, but with a subtly self-contained air.

In his mind, nobles from such a remote territory should have been more enthusiastic when facing an Imperial Envoy, even if they weren’t fawning.

After the banquet ended, Carl returned to his guest room in the west wing of the castle.

The room was spacious and tidy, the fire in the hearth burned brightly, the bed was comfortable, and the Attendants were respectful and polite. There was nothing to fault.

But it was precisely this faultless "thoughtfulness" that made him feel even more stifled.

He dismissed the Attendant, sat down heavily in the armchair by the fireplace, grabbed the silver pitcher on the table, poured himself a glass of local fruit wine, and downed it in one go.

The alcohol, far from quelling his anger, only made his pent-up dissatisfaction surge more clearly to the surface.

’Absolutely ridiculous!’ he cursed under his breath, his voice especially clear in the quiet room. ’A "Legend" who coasts on his past fame, and he sure puts on airs! Doesn’t even show his face, sending his son and daughter-in-law to deal with us... And that Adela, putting on an act. Does she really think she’s someone important? This backwater place, even if it’s managed passably, how much profit could there be? And His Highness the Third Prince, why bother with such a—’

Suddenly, his complaining cut off.

Carl’s eyes instantly went vacant. The dissatisfaction, arrogance, and irritation on his face vanished in an instant, as if washed away like paint.

Immediately after, a completely different light appeared from deep within his brown eyes.

Cold and indifferent.

He slowly set down his glass, stood up, walked to the center of the room, and tilted his head slightly, as if listening for a sound that no ordinary person could perceive.

Then he walked to the door and opened it.

The torchlight on the corridor wall outside seemed to bend subtly around him, growing hazy, and his figure blurred slightly.

Two Maids carrying fresh clothes walked over from the other end of the hall, talking in low voices. They passed him, yet they seemed completely oblivious to his presence, not even noticing that the door had opened.

He stepped silently into the stone-paved corridor, sneaking toward the deeper sections of the castle.

He seemed to be tracking something. His nostrils flared slightly, and his cold eyes glittered with an unnatural light in the dimness.

Just as he passed a corner, a figure emerged without warning from the shadows beside a door, blocking his path.

It was a girl who looked to be about fifteen years old.

She wore a simple black dress with a clean, knee-length hemline. It had no complex decorations, but its tailored fit subtly outlined the girl’s budding, slender figure.

Matching black stockings covered her slim, straight calves, and on her feet were a pair of equally simple black leather shoes.

Her thick, smooth black hair cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall. The strands shimmered like satin in the corridor’s faint light, making her small face appear even more fair and translucent, as if carved from the finest moonlit mutton-fat jade.

What was most striking, however, were her eyes. Her jet-black pupils, the same color as her hair, were so deep they seemed to absorb all surrounding light and sound. They were now calmly watching this uninvited guest who had snuck in.

She had appeared so suddenly, yet so naturally, as if she had been waiting there for a long time.

The faint light in the corridor fell upon her, and her pure black attire seemed to create its own tranquil domain, subtly separating her from her surroundings.

Carl—or rather, the entity controlling him—stopped abruptly.

He narrowed his eyes, his cold gaze sweeping over the girl’s entire body like a physical object, lingering for an especially long time on her overly serene black eyes.

The girl did not seem particularly surprised by his appearance.

She tilted her head slightly, a very small movement. Her voice was clear and exceptionally distinct in the silent corridor, but her tone was as flat as if she were stating the most ordinary fact:

"Sir Carl, the banquet is over. This is the inner residence of the castle. Guest rooms are in the west wing. Are you lost?"