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  Kael sat silently, his gaze unfocused as he watched two of Wallz's friends step into the room. In their hands, they carried two small pouches, the sound of clinking metal unmistakable as they set them down with a sense of pride. Rewards for capturing the three figures.

  Kael sighed, uninterested. He did not care for the rewards nor the conversation surrounding them. His mind was adrift, drowning in distant thoughts of a life that once was—a life in the HuaLian Kingdom. A family that no longer existed in his present reality.

  Quin, ever observant, noted his young master’s quietness. He had been so since waking from his deep sleep. Though Quin longed to ask, he refrained, sensing Kael’s need for silence. It was Kael who broke it instead, his voice calm yet distant.

  "Have you packed our things? We should return home."

  The word ‘home’ lingered in the air, an unfamiliar weight settling in the room. Quin nodded without a word. The mention of home silenced them all.

  Wallz hesitated before speaking, "You’re leaving today?"

  Kael gave a slow, deliberate nod. His decision was final, and Wallz knew he could not hold them here any longer.

  After a moment, Kael shifted his gaze to the pouches resting on the table. "The reward. I won’t take it."

  Wallz and his friends exchanged glances before nodding in understanding. Despite their persistence, Kael remained firm in his refusal. Eventually, the discussion ended, and Quin excused himself to retrieve their carriage. Kael fell into thought again, his mind circling back to the one who had mourned for Asael. The image was etched into his heart, a ghostly presence that refused to fade. Wallz, sensing Kael’s need for solitude, turned his attention back to his friends. Some left briefly, returning with small items they had purchased—though Kael paid little attention.

  Fifteen minutes later, Quin arrived with the simple carriage. He stepped down, gathering their belongings before moving to assist Kael.

  Kael gripped his pole tightly, pushing himself forward. His movements were slow but determined. As he approached, Wallz’s friends presented him with farewell gifts. Too exhausted to argue, Kael allowed Quin to place them inside the carriage.

  "Safe travels," Wallz said, offering a firm nod.

  Kael gave a weak smile, lifting a hand in farewell as Quin helped him into the carriage. With a final glance at the town, the horses’ hooves set forth, carrying them away from the inn and toward the Vladimir estate.

  The journey was smooth, the road quiet save for the rhythmic trot of the horses. Kael exhaled slowly. "Hide the gifts somewhere," he instructed. "As for the money, keep it with you."

  Quin nodded, storing everything away before guiding the horses once more. As they neared the Vladimir estate, the weight of their return pressed against them. Quin, ever cautious, hid the gifts and money in the back of a stone brick house, before they finally arrived at the manor’s grand gates.

  Their return did not go unnoticed. By the time the carriage came to a stop, the Duke, the Duchess, and Kael’s step-siblings were already awaiting them.

  Kael stepped down, his stormy gray eyes cold as they met his ‘father’ and ‘mother.’ His hood was lowered, the cloth that once covered his eyes removed.

  He took a step forward, intending to greet his father, but before he could utter a word—a sharp crack rang through the air.

  Pain blossomed across his cheek as the Duke’s hand struck him hard. The force whipped his face to the side, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth as a thin trickle slipped from the corner of his lips.

  Startled, Kael remained still for a moment before scoffing, his expression darkening.

  Quin’s fists clenched at his sides, fury barely restrained. His young master had barely returned, and already the Duke sought to harm him. The injustice boiled within him, but he knew his place.

  The night had deepened, the sky a curtain of inky blackness. The estate stood silent, tension thick in the air.

  Kael turned his face back toward the Duke, his expression unreadable.

  "Welcome home," the Duke said, voice cold as ever.

  Kael wiped the blood from his lips, his gaze unwavering.

  Home.

  A bitter word for a place that had never been one.

  Servants glance at him with disdain. His stepbrothers sneer at him. The estate treats him as if he does not exist yet his so called 'father' was furious when he left the estate. And worst of all—his father, Duke Valdemar, does not even acknowledge his existence.

  Kael’s fists clench.

  Kael stood before Duke Valdemar with an expression of icy detachment, his stormy gray eyes reflecting nothing but disdain. A fresh bruise marred his pale cheek from the earlier slap, but he showed no sign of pain. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, as if amused by the display of violence.

  "How utterly predictable," Kael said, his voice smooth yet laced with venom. "You raise a hand to me, expecting what? That I would bow my head and tremble like a beaten hound?" He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "You are a fool, Valdemar. A pathetic old man clinging to the illusion of control."

  The Duke’s jaw tightened, his knuckles white as he clenched his fists at his sides. "Watch your tongue, boy! You dare speak to me with such insolence?"

  Kael smirked mockingly. "Oh? Have I offended the great Duke Valdemar? Pity. Then allow me to be clearer—if you expect me to grovel for acceptance in this wretched house, you will die waiting. I was never a son to you. And you? You were never a father to me."

  The words struck like a blade, but Kael wasn’t finished. He stepped forward, his cloak billowing slightly from the cold draft. "Is it not amusing, Valdemar? The son you cast aside, the son you despise, still carries the Vladimir name with more dignity than you ever could. What would the nobility think if they knew the great Duke Valdemar couldn’t even control his own blood?"

  "Enough!" Valdemar bellowed, his temper finally snapping. His voice echoed through the grand hall, sending a tremor through the gathered servants and noble family members who watched in stunned silence. "I will not have your filth in my house any longer! Get out! You are no longer welcome in this estate!"

  Kael laughed softly, shaking his head in feigned disappointment. "How tragic. And here I thought this was a place of honor and family." His eyes, cold as steel, flickered to the Duchess, who had remained silent all this time, her face unreadable. "You truly married a coward, Duchess. A man who mistakes cruelty for strength."

  Valdemar’s face turned red with fury, but before he could respond, Kael turned on his heel and strode toward the entrance. He glanced at the young servant standing nearby—Quin’s eldest brother.

  "Pack my things," Kael ordered, his voice calm but firm. "I am leaving."

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  The young servant hesitated only for a moment before nodding and rushing off. The tension in the room thickened as Kael stood motionless, waiting. His presence was suffocating, his very existence a challenge to the authority of the man who had just disowned him.

  Minutes later, the servant returned, carrying a medium-sized bag. Without hesitation, he walked past the Duke and stood beside Quin, then, much to everyone’s shock, extended a sealed letter toward Valdemar.

  "This is my resignation, my lord," the young servant said, his voice unwavering. "I will follow Master Kael."

  A heavy silence fell upon the hall. The Duke and Duchess could only stare, speechless, as another person willingly abandoned their house for the outcast son.

  Kael took the bag from Quin and slung it over his shoulder with ease. Without another word, he turned toward the grand doors of the estate, his steps echoing through the marble floors. Quin and the young servant followed closely behind him.

  A soft breeze rolled through the open courtyard as they stepped outside. The wind tugged at Kael’s worn cloak, making its frayed edges flutter. His high ponytail swayed slightly, the delicate silver accessories woven into his dark strands glinting under the pale moonlight. His expression was unreadable, but his cold eyes held a quiet sense of finality.

  Behind him, the Vladimir family stood frozen in shock, unable to process the scene that had just unfolded. By the time they regained their senses, Kael was already gone—vanishing into the night like a ghost that had never truly belonged to them.

  That night marked the last time Kael ever laid eyes on his biological father.

  The night was calm, yet the chilling breeze that swept through the quiet streets carried an air of uncertainty. The three figures—Kael, Quin, and Quirl—walked side by side, their footsteps light against the cobblestone path. The manor of Vladimir was now behind them, nothing more than a distant shadow swallowed by the night.

  Quin, unable to suppress his curiosity any longer, turned his head slightly toward Kael. "Young Master… where will we go now?" His voice was laced with both concern and anticipation, knowing full well that his master had just severed ties with his family.

  Kael, who had been silent for a while, pondered the question. His stormy gray eyes, half-hidden beneath his hood, flickered with a rare resolve. "Tomorrow… I'll find work." His voice was calm, steady, as if he'd already made up his mind. "I need to start saving for myself."

  Quirl, the eldest of the two brothers, glanced at Kael with a furrowed brow. The frail and delicate figure walking beside him, draped in a worn cloak, did not seem like someone suited for hard labor. Exchanging glances with Quin, Quirl sighed before speaking, "Young Master, with all due respect… your body is weak. Are you certain you can handle working?"

  Kael let out a soft scoff, but his lips curled into an amused smirk. "Do you doubt me, Quirl?"

  Yes, he does doubt his young master but instead, "No, Young Master, but—"

  "Then there's no issue." Kael's tone was firm, but the slight faltering of his fingers gripping his cloak betrayed his reality—he wasn't in the best condition, and he knew it. But stubbornness was an old friend of his.

  Quirl sighed again before shaking his head. "Then at least live with us for the time being. You need a roof over your head, and you’re in no state to wander without direction."

  Kael's first instinct was to refuse. He had already severed ties with the Vladimir family, boldly walking away without a second thought. Accepting another’s kindness so soon felt almost hypocritical. But then reality settled in—where else could he go? He had no home, no savings, and no plan beyond his vague decision to find work.

  With an air of reluctant acceptance, Kael finally murmured, "If that's alright… then I'll stay with you for now."

  A hint of relief passed over Quin’s face, while Quirl simply nodded, as if he had expected this outcome all along. "Good. Then it's decided."

  The three of them continued walking, their pace steady, unfazed by the cool breeze that occasionally rustled their cloaks. The outskirts town had long since quieted, with only the soft flicker of lanterns illuminating their path. Kael, as always, pulled his hood lower to shield his face from unwanted gazes, a habit neither Quin nor Quirl commented on. They understood him well enough to know that after the past few days, attention was the last thing he wanted.

  The night stretched onward, and with each step, Kael felt himself moving further away from his past. For the first time in a long while, he was truly on his own. But despite the uncertainty, he felt something unexpected—a sense of liberation.

  The journey to Quin and Quirl’s home was silent, save for the occasional rustling of leaves and the distant calls of nocturnal creatures. The air was cool, carrying the crisp scent of the forest that stretched behind the small house. A gentle breeze brushed past them, causing Kael’s long black hair to sway slightly under his hood.

  As they approached, Kael took in the sight of the humble yet charming home. It was a modest, single-story brick house with a slightly slanted roof. The stone path leading to the wooden front door was bordered by patches of wildflowers, their delicate petals shifting under the dim glow of a lantern hanging beside the entrance. The soft flickering of the flame cast long shadows, giving the home a warm, inviting aura. A small wooden bench sat to the side, and a well-crafted water barrel was tucked neatly near the entrance. Behind the house, the forest stretched like a protective guardian, its trees swaying gently under the night sky.

  A soft click pulled Kael from his thoughts as Quin twisted the door handle, pushing it open with a faint creak. The inside was modest but well-kept, the scent of aged wood and faint traces of herbal tea lingering in the air. A simple yet sturdy wooden table stood in the center, surrounded by chairs that bore the wear of daily use. A stone fireplace nestled against one wall provided the main source of warmth, a pile of neatly stacked firewood resting nearby.

  Kael’s sharp gaze flickered over the various items inside, his eyes stopping on a collection of wrapped gifts piled neatly in one corner. The gifts from Wallz’s friends, along with the few things he had bought, sat untouched, as though waiting for their owner’s decision. Quin noticed Kael’s attention and chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

  “This is our home,” Quin said, his voice laced with pride. “We don’t have much, but it’s cozy.”

  Quirl, who had been removing his cloak, turned toward the pile of belongings and immediately noticed something. He stepped forward, picking up the sheathed blade resting on top.

  “Whose blade is this?” he asked, inspecting it with a careful eye.

  Quin grinned, puffing his chest out slightly. “Young Master Kael bought it for me.”

  Quirl snapped his head toward Kael, his expression a mix of surprise and curiosity. Kael, who had been unfastening his cloak, merely glanced at him before responding calmly, “We were rewarded for capturing the wanted criminals that day when I was on my way to town.”

  With that, he pulled down his hood and shrugged off his cloak. Quirl instinctively reached to take it, moving to hang it on the nearby wooden peg, but before he could, Kael’s quiet yet firm voice stopped him.

  “There’s no need,” Kael said evenly. “You don’t need to serve me anymore. I am no longer a young master.”

  Quin and Quirl exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. Then Quin grinned, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Then, how about I call you Master Kael instead?”

  Kael arched a brow at him. “Why?”

  Quin smirked and folded his arms. “Because you said you’d teach me and point out my mistakes in swordsmanship.”

  Quirl’s eyes widened slightly, turning from his brother to Kael. The elder sibling’s gaze softened as he took in the scene before him—Kael, standing there with an air of quiet resilience, and Quin, looking far too pleased with himself.

  Kael exhaled softly, his expression unreadable. “I read too many books while trapped in the Vladimir Manor,” he said simply, his voice devoid of emotion.

  Quirl studied him for a long moment before nodding. “That, I believe,” he murmured. He had often seen Kael surrounded by books in the past, the pages his only escape from the suffocating walls of the manor.

  The room settled into a comfortable silence, the warmth of the fire flickering against the walls. Outside, the wind whispered through the trees, carrying the echoes of a night that marked the beginning of Kael’s new path.

  The humble house of the two brothers was peaceful, the soft glow of lantern light flickering against the warm brick walls. A gentle breeze rustled the flowers growing on both sides of the small home, their delicate petals swaying under the night sky. Behind the house, the forest stretched into darkness, its presence both soothing and mysterious. The path leading to the door was lined with smooth stones, each step feeling grounding and familiar.

  Inside, Quirl quietly set about cleaning the spare room for Kael, making sure everything was in place while his younger brother, Quin, and Kael sorted through the pile of gifts. As Kael picked up a wrapped package, he suddenly asked, “Where is the pole Ewald gave me?” His tone was calm, but there was a faint trace of curiosity.

  Quin glanced up and pointed toward a cabinet near the wall. “It’s leaning there.”

  Kael stood, walked over, and picked up the sturdy wooden pole. With a quiet click, he twisted the hilt and smoothly unsheathed a hidden blade from within. The polished steel gleamed under the dim candlelight. Kael ran his fingers along the blade’s edge before murmuring, “This pole is truly well-crafted.”

  Quirl, who had just walked into the room, caught sight of the weapon and frowned. “Where did you get that?”

  Before Kael could answer, Quin smirked and interjected, “Innkeeper Ewald in town gave it to him. Master Kael was pretending to be blind, so Ewald gave it to him, thinking he needed it.”

  Quirl paused mid-step, blinking at Kael. Then, as if the realization hit him, he sighed. “Ah… understandable.” He muttered, rubbing his forehead. With Kael’s striking beauty and noble air, he would naturally attract unwanted attention.

  His gaze then landed on a well-crafted dagger with a small accessory dangling from the hilt. “And that?”

  Quin grinned. “That one? A merchant gave it to Master Kael out of guilt because, well—”

  Quirl sighed even louder this time, shaking his head. “Who else got scammed by our Master Kael?”

  Kael, unbothered, continued examining the gifts. He carefully unwrapped each one, checking if there was anything useful. Quin eagerly tore apart the wrappings, revealing expensive potions, a white hooded cloak lined with fur, and various accessories. Kael leaned forward slightly, his long black hair swaying as he looked into the pile. A soft chime rang out as an accessory fell into his hand—a small white crystal sword that could be attached to a weapon.

  Kael’s fingers lingered on it for a moment, his thoughts drifting to a past long buried. Without a word, he hooked the tiny sword onto the hilt of his pole. The soft bell chime resonated through the room like a whisper from another time.

  Once everything was unwrapped, Kael helped Quin clean up, tossing discarded wrappings into the bin near the back door. Meanwhile, Quirl had changed into a more comfortable outfit—a simple gray long-sleeve shirt and dark blue pants. His boots were worn yet sturdy, proof of his years of hard work. He had just finished showering and was already in the kitchen, preparing a simple soup for dinner.

  Quin wiped his hands and turned to Kael. “Master, go clean yourself first. Dinner will be ready soon.”

  Kael gave a slight nod in agreement. Quin handed him a towel and a pair of clothes before he made his way toward the small washroom.

  A few minutes later, Kael emerged, his long black hair still damp and clinging to his back. Quin and Quirl turned to look at him, only to snort in unison.

  Kael raised an eyebrow. “What?”

  Quin barely held back his laughter. “Master Kael… that shirt is way too big for you.”

  The oversized fabric draped over Kael’s slender frame, practically swallowing him. While the pants fit well, the shirt belonged to Quin, who had a more muscular build from years of knight training. Quirl chuckled from the kitchen, shaking his head as he stirred the soup. “We need to buy you some clothes that actually fit.”

  Kael let out a soft sigh before settling into a chair, casually rubbing a towel through his damp hair. His lazy technique made Quin frown.

  “Master, let me help you dry your hair. With that method, it’ll take a century to dry.” Quin moved closer, taking the towel from Kael’s hands, while Quirl chuckled at his younger brother’s antics.

  Kael exhaled, clearly resigned. “I was lazy to dry it properly.”

  As Quin carefully dried and tied his master’s long hair, Kael asked in a quiet voice, “What is your family name?”

  Quirl, who was ladling the soup into bowls, glanced over and answered calmly, “Our family name is Vayren.”

  Kael nodded slightly in acknowledgment while Quin finished tying his hair into a loose ponytail, allowing a few strands to fall naturally around his face. The atmosphere in the small house was warm, filled with the scent of simmering soup and the quiet companionship of the three young men, bound not by blood but by loyalty and choice.

  To be continued.