[Julian’s POV]

With a gaze that bled cold, crimson hostility, Julian set his teacup down onto the saucer, the sound landing hard in the silent, carrying a simmering menace.

His fingers stayed there for a brief moment, then pulled away as he pushed his reading eyeglasses up.

Then, insouciantly, he leaned his back into the sofa, crossing his legs in total control and dominance, like a man to whom the seat was a throne.

His crimson eyes were steeped in a depth that felt... misplaced, oppressively heavy, while his white hair, still damp from his bath, falling in disordered strands along his skin.

The man was dressed in robes of pristine white and sitting across from him on another sofa was his servant, Alfred.

The butler seemed a man long accustomed to service, shaped by time but never diminished, his posture firm and fastidious.

His hair was neatly combed, touched with gray, and his face showed age in the lines around his eyes and mouth, but there was no weakness in it.

Julian’s gaze stayed on him, pressing down like weight, before he finally spoke, his voice low, rough, and carrying an edge that felt close to snapping.

"So, what’s the report you have for me?"

Alfred inclined his head, posture as exact as ever, before he spoke in that calm, tempered tone.

"Younger Master Felix has, as of last week, been formally inducted into his training. The decision was made rather swiftly. Though, I must add that his condition has not yet returned to full stability."

"His recovery, while progressing, remains incomplete... but His Lordship appeared unconcerned by such limitations."

He paused, just briefly, as though weighing the next words with care.

"As for Young Miss Fiorelle... I regret that my report is far less sufficient for her. It would seem His Lordship has arranged for her relocation beyond the estate grounds."

"The destination was not disclosed, nor were any attendants from the main household permitted to accompany her. I also made a measured attempt to inquire further, but..."

He let out a faint breath.

"...it became clear that the matter was not one I was permitted to pursue. My apologies."

Silence settled thickly in the room.

Then it fractured. A faint pulse flickered along his temple, the vein beneath his skin rising with restrained fury.

"...Tsk. That wretched old man!"

The words came low, drawn out with quiet venom from him.

"How very like him."

"To begin Felix’s training the moment I was sent away to the academy... this was no sudden decision. That old man must have planned it long before I left."

His gaze lowered slightly, dark with thought.

"But Alfred, what exactly did you mean... Fiorelle was sent away from the estate?" he asked his butler.

There was a small change in his voice. Julian sounded concerned — afraid for his sister, and trying to keep that fear contained behind a restrained, careful tone.

Before his mother died from her illness, she tried to speak to him with the little strength she had left. Her voice was weak, but her eyes were serious like he had never seen before.

She told him his father was not the same anymore. His mother could not explain it clearly, and maybe she did not understand it fully herself either, but she believed it strongly.

Something was wrong with her husband.

That was why she gave him a final wish.

As the eldest one, he had to protect his younger siblings.

She gave him no reason as to why he needed to protect his siblings from his father, no proof at all. Only that it was her maternal instinct as a mother.

At that time, Julian was still young. His siblings were even younger and knew nothing about what was happening around them.

But he accepted his mother’s final wish. Even though he didn’t fully understand it, he had too... it was her last one, after all.

The last promise he made to her.

As time passed, that promise only became heavier.

As he grew up, he also began to notice the changes in his father. At first, they were small and easy to ignore, but slowly they became clear.

The warmth his father once had disappeared, replaced by a cold and distant manner. There were even times when he no longer felt like a father at all.

So, Julian did what he could.

He stayed close to his siblings and watched over them in his own way. But time moved on, and things changed.

They grew older, and the distance between them grew as well. He always knew that one day, they would be separated.

And now, it had happened.

Fiorelle was taken away without a word.

Julian tightened his fingers slightly on the armrest, the faint smile on his lips gone.

Alfred spoke again, his voice calm and respectful.

"From what I was able to gather, young master... it was said that after Miss Fiorelle awakened her Spellcore, her talent and affinity to mana was found to be very high."

He lowered his gaze slightly.

"Again, I must apologize, as this is not fully confirmed. However, I have reason to believe that she has been sent to the Magus Spire."

The room became quiet again.

Julian did not answer right away. His gaze stayed lowered, his expression hard to read.

’The Magus Spire?’

After a short silence, he finally spoke.

"Alfred..."

At the mere utterance of his name, the butler immediately drew himself upright where he stood across from his lord, his gaze lowered in accordance with the unspoken codes of propriety.

"Look for my sister, and keep a careful tab on her. Ascertain the reason our father sent her there, and you will accomplish this without so much as a whisper of attention falling upon you."

"I will not tolerate you being caught, nor will I permit the presence of unnecessary eyes trailing your steps."

"Should there be individuals of a suspicious inclination, you will avoid them with utmost discretion. And should anything, anything at all, presume to obstruct your path..."

His gaze lifted.

"...simply remove it. By all means."

The final word settled with a dangerous softness.

Julian’s order was straightforward.

—"Do whatever is necessary to ensure the success of this task."

Julian continued.

"From what I can understand, this is part of his plan to push us further. He would let us eat dirt and sleep on bare rugs like nothing, if it meant we become stronger from it."

A faint curve touched his lips, but there was no humor in it.

"Because that old man..." Julian muttered, his voice low with restrained bitterness, "...he has never seen us as anything more than tools."

Honestly, he could understand it, to a certain extent.

The pride of the Rozenberg name had never been an illusion, but rather a legacy built upon the unrelenting pursuit of power, the creation of magus who would reign unequivocally above all others, untouchable and unstoppable.

It was a legacy carved across the annals of time with an unyielding dedication, one that expected nothing short of perfection and crushed anything less than the best of the best.

That much, he accepted without objection.

But this...

This was not the same.

There was something within his father’s actions that diverged from that long-standing doctrine of the Rozenberg pride.

Something that extended beyond the mere pursuit of strength in its purest form.

Julian knew... that this was neither refinement nor adherence to tradition. No, there was a purpose embedded within it, something else...

Julian couldn’t quite define yet what his father’s goal was, but he felt it nonetheless...

There was a malicious intention behind it.

"Yes, I will do so, my lord," the butler finally answered, bobbing his head in perfect obedience.

Then, as though recalling something of minor importance, Julian spoke again, his tone returning to that same controlled calm.

"By the way... after the Vazrun Island test ends, there will be a one week break before the academy resumes with written examinations."

He sighed.

"During that break, I will return to the estate for a few days... no longer than two."

Across from him, Alfred inclined his head without hesitation, already accepting the instruction.

"Understood, my lord. I shall prepare for your return accordingly."

A breath passed, measured, before the butler added with careful propriety. "Ah... and I wish you success in your practical examination on Vazrun Island."

Hearing such words, Julian scoffed, the sound slipping from him with cold derision, as if the idea itself was laughably insignificant.

"Save it," he said, his voice cutting.

"I have no need for luck."

He leaned back slightly.

"It is merely a matter of spending a few days stranded upon that island," he continued. "Such a trivial ordeal will not pose any difficulty for me."

Hearing that, the butler wore a knowing smile.

"Young master... before I take my leave, there is one final obligation I must honor, if you will indulge me."

From within his coat, Alfred took out a small velvet case and opened it with ceremonious care. Resting within was a black jeweled necklace, its polished surface swallowing the candlelight rather than reflecting it.

Julian narrowed his eyes.

"I had nearly forgotten," Alfred said, though his tone suggested he had forgotten no such thing. "There is something that I have been entrusted with to give it to you."

The butler lowered his head slightly before continuing.

"This was left by your late mother, my lord... a charm she wished you to receive when your eighteenth birthday drew near."

"I must offer my apology for withholding it until now, but... I had made a promise to Her Ladyship."

His eyes softened, though his gaze held something wicked.

"She believed there would come a day when you would no longer reject even the smallest gesture meant for your well-being."

A faint, sinister smile touched his lips.

"If I may be permitted to say so... I take it as fortunate that today, perhaps, she was not mistaken."

He extended the necklace.

"Your eighteenth year approaches soon. I thought... it should return to its rightful owner before then."

’A lucky charm... from mother?’

Julian stared at the black jeweled necklace resting in the butler’s hand.

’No matter. If she left it for me, I’ll take it.’

Without much thought, he took it.

For the briefest moment, Alfred seemed relieved.

Then Julian rose from his seat, the soft shift of his white robes cutting through the silence.

"Leave," he said as he yawned, his voice quieter now.

"I will be sleeping now."

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[Chapter 131: The Firstborn of Rozenberg]

A/N: Check Author’s thoughts below ;)