In the high-class district, among the many grand mansions, one stood out above the rest—the residence of the Boletara family, known as one of the wealthiest in the kingdom. They owned a powerful company with a firm grip on the sectors with the highest financial returns: textiles, mining, and mana research. Their estate was guarded by special forces assigned by the king himself.

The family consisted of a man named Darius, his wife Helena, and their son, Raignald.

Darius, the head of the household, was in his mid-forties and the founder of the family business. His relaxed demeanor and calm expression still carried the unmistakable weight of someone from the upper echelons. His blond hair, straight and slightly long, swept back and brushed his nape. He wore a short, well-groomed beard that framed his strong jawline, and the wrinkles around his mouth and eyes told of experience rather than fatigue. His deep navy-blue eyes reflected an ocean of financial schemes and ideas. He always dressed formally and elegantly, embodying discipline and poise in every movement.

Helena, about thirty-nine, exuded an air of haughty sophistication, wearing her status like a crown. She carried herself as if the world belonged to her, dressed as if walking a runway, and spoke as though mud had never touched her feet. Her beauty was striking—dangerously so. Her long blond hair was usually tied in a bun at the back, with strands falling gracefully beside her ears. Her pale yellow eyes held a cold calmness, as if hiding something darker beneath the surface. Her skin was as white as ivory, flawless from years of care and treatments. She loved to wear eye-catching dresses in golden yellows and pure pearl whites, always demanding attention.

The youngest of the family, Raignald, now eighteen, wasn’t quite as imposing as his parents, yet even in his childhood, he commanded a certain quiet respect. Still, his parents always felt something was off, as though he wasn’t made for high-class life. He had inherited his father’s deep blue eyes—like oceans full of new experiences. His hair, similar in color to theirs, was a striking shade of blond, smooth and moderately long, just brushing his forehead. His demeanor was calm and composed, shaped by the many years of education his parents had poured into him.

Raignald’s childhood was marked by distance. His father had a slightly more fatherly presence than his mother, but neither spent much time at home. Caretakers were hired to fill in the gaps while the two were busy with their lives. That is, until a man named Abdullah was brought in—a butler who took on the role of guardian and companion. Abdullah quickly became something closer to an older brother than a servant. Over time, a powerful bond formed between them, one of genuine affection and loyalty, far stronger than any typical master-servant relationship.

This was the Boletara family: bound on one side by fame and fortune… and on the other, by a bond that felt real.

It was night, and the white moon reflected the sunlight like a natural beacon. Yet this light was more intense, thanks to the mana it radiated—granting it a power almost equal to that of the sun—but as time passed, it softened into a dim glow that allowed the kingdom’s inhabitants to rest.

From the window of his room, Raignald watched as the light gradually waned, knowing that bedtime was near. Today was his birthday, but it was a special one… today he turned eighteen, the age when young nobles are expected to choose their independent path, or so the rules of the upper class dictated.

"I’m almost through with the day," he thought with a sigh. "And in a few minutes comes the special dinner. And of course, they had to postpone it until this late at night…" He leaned back, sitting in the chair at his desk. "They never have time, not even for such an event. Bah, as if it really matters." He turned his body, settling at the table where a book lay open, though the scant light made reading nearly impossible.

With a snap of his fingers, Raignald activated a magical lamp powered by mana. "I don’t even feel like reading," he thought, surrendering immediately. Today was the day when, finally, he was to decide his own path—but the problem was his parents, for his goal was something they disapproved of. He had known this moment would come and had been preparing for it, yet thinking about it was not the same as facing it.

He looked around his room as if it might be the last night he could savor its comforts: it was very spacious, with plenty of room between the bed, the desk, the wardrobe, and the bookshelves.

His bed, situated in the center of the room, was a work of art. Its dark oak frame had been hand-carved with intricate geometric patterns, and its edges were decorated with gold. Above it, a canopy connected to the frame featured a landscape painted by a famous artist—mountains, trees, and a moon—that helped lull one to sleep.

To the right of the bed stood his desk, made of wood painted as white as snow, with golden drawers. The mana-powered lamp illuminated the book he had been reading for some time—a volume on legends. Above it, a small shelf hanging on the wall held more books, neatly arranged.

Opposite his bed was a wardrobe, matching in dark wood with golden embellishments. There, his everyday clothes and pajamas were stored—most of which had been chosen and purchased by his mother. They were very flashy and oozed upper-class style… a fact that Raignald disliked. Instead, he always dressed in more modest attire—the only style he truly cared about among all that was available.

Raignald rose from his chair, stretching his arms as he yawned, and gazed one last time at the fading moonlight. He then approached the mirror near his room’s door. "Today is the day… I must be capable of choosing my own destiny," he thought to himself, preparing for the long conversation that was about to take place.

Someone knocked on the door—three taps. By the sound alone, Raignald already knew who it was before the person even spoke… Abdullah, his loyal butler.

"Master Raignald, dinner is ready," came the calm, somewhat grave voice.

"You may come in, Abdullah," Raignald replied as he stepped away from the mirror. He then sat on his bed with his arms crossed and let out a sigh of relief.

The door opened, letting the light from the hallway spill into the room, and then he entered. Raignald smiled at the sight of him: his eyes were a deep emerald green, his skin rich and brown like rain-soaked earth. His neatly trimmed black beard lined his jaw and connected with his hair, though his upper lip was clean-shaven. His hair, also black as coal, was short and curly, shaping his forehead. He wore a typical butler's outfit, in black and white.

"Good evening, sir," he spoke first, giving a slight bow. "You look cheerful. Ready for the upcoming talk?"

"Well, first of all…" Raignald smiled. "I’ve always told you not to act like that to me when we’re alone. And as for your question," he paused for a moment to think, "it’s hard to say. But clearly, I’ve made my decision."

Abdullah smiled and closed the door behind him so they could talk in private. He leaned against the cabinet beneath the mirror to get comfortable.

"And we both know your parents won’t agree," he said, his voice slightly disappointed.

"Yeah… as always," Raignald sighed. "But I’ve turned eighteen now. This time, I get to choose my own destiny. They’re not going to force me into something I don’t want."

"And I understand that—as I always have. But this time…" Abdullah sighed too. "This time it’s different. Whatever you decide, if they don’t approve, they’ll do the worst. Honestly, I’ve never understood rich families."

"Me neither, my friend… me neither." Raignald looked at the floor, resting his forehead in his hands, imagining what lay ahead. "But it’s time to accept things as they are. We’ve always argued about the same thing, and they’ve never understood why I want to wield a sword instead of sitting behind a desk doing… who knows what with papers and more papers."

Abdullah stepped forward and gently placed his hand on Raignald’s shoulder.

"Listen, young Raignald. You said it yourself—it’s time to accept things as they are. You choose the path ahead. Besides, what you want to do is an honorable thing. And you have a gift… your mana is special." He ended with a comforting smile.

Raignald looked up and saw Abdullah’s confident smile.

"You know… I’ll never understand why you say my mana is special. I haven’t really had a chance to test it, have I?" he asked, puzzled about what he might mean.

Raignald’s parents did not support the idea of their son getting his hands dirty, becoming a warrior or wielding a sword. “That’s work for the lower class!” they would say. They preferred him working for his father’s grand company, helping with sales to other kingdoms. Abdullah was the only one who, from the very beginning, supported his dream—teaching him how to handle a sword and how mana worked.

"That’s because we’ve never had the time to fully train it," Abdullah said with a soft laugh. "Training in secret isn’t enough. You haven’t unlocked your full potential, and I’ve only taught you the basics."

"You’re right," Raignald reasoned, stroking his chin. "You always said that mana was essential to boost my attacks… but I always used none or barely any."
"Exactly," Abdullah replied, moving closer to the door again. "Today, the day you mark the beginning of your own path, you’ll finally be able to train more—and grow in both combat and your mastery of mana."

His butler's words filled him with energy and resolve. He stood up from the bed, feeling like he could take on anything.

"Yeah... to be honest, hearing it like that, I do feel capable. But..." Raignald sighed, letting his arms drop. "I'll never understand—why can’t they see and support what I truly want?"

"Make them understand," Abdullah smiled, his voice calm and full of confidence. "With your achievements and growth, you'll show them the potential they never saw."

Raignald didn’t say anything—he simply smiled, letting those words settle in his mind. Abdullah walked to the door.

"I think it’s best you head to dinner. You're going to love the cake!" he said, trying to lift his spirits.

"Oh yeah? Then I’d better enjoy it before the argument starts," Raignald laughed, standing up and heading for the door.

[Since this site, has character limit... the chapter is divided in parts, you can continue reading them...]