He walked to the doorway. Abdullah opened it, and for a brief moment, the young man stood still in front of his butler, trying to say something just with his eyes. Abdullah smiled and stepped out first, knowing full well that his master hated being treated like someone above him—he preferred being treated like a brother. Raignald followed him, and together they made their way to the dining room.

The hallway was rather long, with a crimson carpet running through it like it awaited the steps of someone important. Portraits of the family hung on both sides, displaying either his mother or father. In one of them, Darius and Helena posed with a younger Raignald at their feet. “How much I’ve changed,” he thought, gazing at the painting, which brought back memories of a childhood that was supervised and micromanaged down to the smallest detail.

They reached the end of the hall, where the floor split into two paths with staircases leading down to the lower floor—where the dining room was. Raignald paused at the top, resting his arms on the golden metal railing and looking down. His parents were already seated at the central table. Everything looked meticulously arranged, with a Lotus biscuit cake as the centerpiece and various dishes surrounding it. An ornate chandelier hung above them, its golden and jewel-studded design elegantly lighting almost the entire room.

Darius looked up, noticing his son waiting upstairs.

"Happy birthday, dear!" he called out with a smile—though it was clearly a bit forced.

A group of musicians began to play, setting a refined and harmonious mood. Raignald descended with Abdullah while a small choir sang a unique birthday melody. He didn’t particularly like it, but he had gotten used to it by now—complaining would only sour the mood. Before he sat down, Abdullah gently patted him on the back, reminding him that he was there—watching and supporting him, even while playing the role of a butler.

There were three chairs at the table—his father, his mother, and the empty one meant for him. He sighed, as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders, and took his seat, admiring the food laid out before him.

"Good evening. Father. Mother," he said, pausing briefly as he looked at each of them.

Raignald began to eat, picking a bit from one dish and then another: meats, desserts, and more were available to him. But his eyes were locked on the cake—its luxurious appearance made it clear he wanted to enjoy it before the conversation took a turn.

The mother ate in silence, visibly uneasy, occasionally casting sidelong glances at Darius, waiting for someone to speak. At one point, their eyes met. Darius caught the sharp, almost murderous look from his wife and smiled.

"Well..." he began, elegantly dabbing his mouth with a napkin. "The moonlight is no longer strengthened by mana. It’s quite late already... We’re sorry we had to delay the celebration. You know how busy I am."

Raignald understood that. His father had to be in the office all day, and sometimes even worked into the late hours. But his mother? She was either out at parties or with her friends. What excuse did she have? Clearly, a family celebration couldn’t happen unless all members were present anyway. Raignald chose not to ask—he just smiled and kept eating.

Abdullah stood a little away from the table, awaiting orders but always keeping a close watch on his young master’s well-being. The choir and instruments continued playing melodically, switching to a new tune as each song ended.

"And…?" Darius spoke again, keeping a calm tone. Helena simply observed. "Have you decided already? You’ll be working in my company, will you not?"

The atmosphere thickened. The mother paused her chewing mid-bite, food still in her mouth, awaiting the answer. The father stared intently at his son, clearly uneasy. Raignald sighed, realizing he hadn’t even tasted the lotus cake yet, but it was time to speak. Abdullah became even more alert, eyes wide, his arm bent at a right angle, a white towel resting over it like a proper butler.

"I have decided," Raignald said, feeling a bit nervous but resolute. He looked his father in the eyes. "As I’ve always said and always wanted, I’m going to be a warrior—perfecting my skill with the sword and the use of mana. I aim to become a royal knight."

The tension in the air became unbearable, as if his words had driven a dagger into the family's back. Darius brought two fingers to the bridge of his nose, pressing it with his eyes closed, trying to contain his disappointment. Helena’s frown and icy glare made her anger painfully clear. The musicians sensed the shift in mood and slowly stopped playing, quietly taking their leave.

"Are you never going to change that mindset?" Helena burst out, her voice rising as if her heart might leap from her chest. "You are our son! A son of the Boletara family—why would you devote yourself to something so lowly?"

"All you care about is money and social status," he responded firmly, directing his gaze at both parents. "And we always argue about the same thing, but you never understand what I truly want."

"Of course I understand!" his mother replied with a mocking tone. "You want to get your hands dirty and be some kind of 'honorable warrior' earning a pittance—instead of working with your father and earning a fortune!"

"And that’s the problem." Raignald stood from the table, visibly frustrated, but quickly caught Abdullah’s gaze, reminding him to keep his composure. He sat back down and softened his tone. "You want me chained to a boring job, sitting all day filling out who-knows-what kind of paperwork. That’ll only make me end up miserable and weak."

"Ouch..." Darius winced, as if those words had been aimed directly at him.

"Oh, come on... You know what I mean. You're different from me, Father."

"Depressed? If you accept the job, you'll marry Nastasia! We've already spoken to her family—she's waiting for you," Helena announced, as if that would be enough to convince him.

Nastasia... a childhood friend, daughter of a wealthy and renowned family in the kingdom. Her noble posture, always straight and graceful, nearly matched his height. She had long hair, soft lilac like dawn-blooming flowers, and eyes of a similar hue—calm and serene in their usual gaze. Her skin was as white as pearls, and she typically wore violet dresses adorned with floral patterns.

Although he had once felt something for her, it never fully blossomed. His interest faded even more when he realized his parents planned to marry him off just to boost their status. If the two families were joined through marriage, they would likely become the wealthiest on the planet—merging two massive companies and gaining enormous social influence.

"I haven’t spoken to her in a long time, and I never said I was in love," Raignald replied, a little melancholic.

"Oh please, I remember how you used to stare at her during those parties we had with her family," Darius said with a knowing smile, as if he saw through them.

"That was years ago. Just a childish crush. And besides, what does this have to do with the path I’ve chosen?"

"Well, she won’t be interested in you, and you’ll lose a valuable opportunity," the father explained, eyes wide, like he knew everything about them. "You want to wield a sword, live a short life for peanuts compared to what you'd earn working with me! Why can’t you be reasonable, Raignald?"

He wanted to respond, but his mother jumped in, seizing the momentum.

"You don’t like Nastasia? That’s not a problem—we’ll find you a second wife who suits your taste better. With this job, you’ll be able to support any woman!"

He felt ashamed hearing those words, and rushed to respond to his mother first.

"Are you really implying that I should marry Nastasia just for the money, only to toss her aside later for someone else I like more? For fun? Do you not understand love at all?" He looked at both of them with disappointment, even a hint of disgust, as if their words lacked all integrity. "On the path ahead of me, I’ll likely find a woman I truly fall in love with. And when I do, that’s when I’ll marry—not for wealth, not for status."

"You’re right, son… if you don’t love a woman, why marry her?" Darius sighed, arms crossed, starting to understand. "But… why not just accept a position in my company?"

"What do you mean by ‘he’s right’? What good is a woman with no money or class? It’s disgusting!" Helena cried out, her words stabbing through Raignald like knives.

"How can you, Mother, say such things about a woman? Is your only concern your social status and what your friends will think? You can’t even imagine telling them I’d choose to marry someone of lower class, can you? That would hurt your pride, wouldn’t it?"

The Lotus cake was slowly melting, its thick, golden cream dripping down the plate and spilling over the table.

"Don’t speak to me like that! You want to be a bloody knight? Then go ahead! But you will no longer belong to this family." Helena’s words were growing sharper by the second.

"Let’s not go that far, darling…" Darius tried to calm the atmosphere, casting a hesitant glance at his wife. "He’s still our son."

"No! If he wants to waste his life in poverty, I won’t acknowledge him as my son!" Those words struck Raignald’s spirit, but he swallowed them with determination.

"So be it, then! If I must start a life far removed from the one I’ve known, so be it." He stood up from the table and struck his chest lightly with an open hand. "It’s time I choose my own destiny. I’m old enough. I will train hard, and the day will come when I’ll show you the worth you’ve always ignored. You haven’t even measured my mana level—it’s entirely possible I’m made for battle!"

Darius lowered his gaze, as if hiding something, and his wife stood up, even more furious.

"We don’t need to know something useless!" She tapped her husband’s shoulder to make him rise as well, to end the conversation. "Tonight will be your last night in this house. Tomorrow, pack your things and go on that stupid adventure of yours."

"Don’t worry. I’ll leave right now if I have to," he replied, his voice resigned, but clear.
Abdullah subtly signaled him, as if to say it was better to stay one last night—likely to prepare himself.

Helena let out a sigh and gave in to silence, walking toward the stairs and heading to her room.
Darius stood as well, sadness clouding his expression. He gave his son one last look—a dim gaze, yet not without some light. Perhaps Raignald’s determination had reached him in some way. He then followed his wife without a word. Raignald sighed.