The silence was long and tense. Both stared at each other as though trying to see through the very core of one another.
Zephyrion wasn’t quite sure what to say. Ingrid, though his sister, wasn’t soone he was used to talking to.
Understanding her thoughts in childhood had been easy, but now things were different. Seven years of absence, she had lived an entirely separate life.
He no longer understood how she thought, or what exactly went through her mind. But, it was sothing he needed to know. Ingrid held significant influence within the house and could very likely beco an enemy in the near future.
’Let’s find out.’
Rule two. Listen more than you speak. Words reveal far more about a person than silence ever will.
As the silence stretched, Ingrid eventually released a quiet breath.
"Hey."
"...Hey."
Her eyes drifted toward the insignia fixed on his chest before she gave a small nod of approval.
"So... you actually won."
"So it seems."
A faint frown appeared on Ingrid’s lips at the blunt response. Another brief silence passed between them before Zephyrion finally spoke.
"...you ca all the way here just to say that?"
"Obviously not." Ingrid scoffed lightly, leaning back against her seat.
"I ca to make sure you understand the significance of your current title. You’ll have to work twice as hard just to keep up. The competition and expectations will only beco harsher from here, especially in the academy.
"Other dynasty heirs. Other talents from across the Ferran Empire." Her gaze sharpened slightly. "So don’t let this achievent and fa get to your head and make you complacent. Rember, you are a Calderalth."
Zephyrion blinked once. He was admittedly a little stunned, though none of it reached his face. Had she really co all this way just to... advise him?
’She’s masking...?’
A mont later, he dismissed the thought. Her posture remained straight, her expression calm and composed. He sensed no trace of deceit from her. Either she was exceptionally skilled at concealing her emotions, or she had genuinely co for this.
’Which is it?’
Feeling Ingrid’s unwavering gaze on him, Zephyrion realized he still hadn’t responded and gave a slight nod.
"...alright," he said.
Ingrid waited as though expecting sothing more. When nothing else ca, she slowly nodded, eyes a little dim.
"...alright."
A long mont of silence passed between them before Ingrid finally rose to her feet.
"Then, I’ll take my leave."
Zephyrion watched her walk out through the door. His thoughts had barely begun dissolving into calculations when the door suddenly opened again and Ingrid stepped back inside with a faint frown.
"You do realize the congratulatory banquet is tomorrow, right?"
The congratulatory banquet was always held a day after the Proving to formally introduce the new Pri to the South.
Every significant house head would be present, each trying to curry his favor. More than anything, it was a political battlefield disguised as a celebration.
"Yes."
"...and what exactly are you planning to wear?"
Zephyrion resisted the urge to frown.
"...I’ll figure sothing out."
"Figure sothing out..." Ingrid muttered under her breath before rubbing her temple. "Even as a child, your sense of appearance was tragic. You’ll be representing Calderalth tomorrow. I refuse to let you walk in looking like so mountain wanderer."
Her eyes moved over him from head to toe.
"What are you? Size ten?"
"...yes."
"Good. I’ll send sothing over."
Once again, she turned and left the room.
And once again, the door opened.
This ti, Ingrid stepped inside with a much deeper frown, standing there silently as she stared at Zephyrion. Her eyes shifted slightly, as though waging so internal battle with herself.
Several monts passed before she finally opened her mouth.
"C-congratulations."
She winced faintly at how awkwardly the word ca out, muttering sothing beneath her breath afterward. Then her gaze locked onto Zephyrion again, sharp and expectant, as though waiting for a very specific reaction.
Zephyrion was genuinely caught off guard, though none of it surfaced on his face. Everything about this interaction felt... strange.
"...thank you."
The response ca out calm and unchanged. A flicker of irritation imdiately crossed Ingrid’s face, and she blurted without thinking,
"...That’s all?"
"...should there be more?"
"...No." She replied imdiately before looking away. "Forget it."
...
’I ca all this way and he barely even reacted.’
Ingrid scoffed to herself as she walked through the mansion halls, shaking her head.
When told congratulations, normal people smiled, didn’t they? Or at the very least looked happy. Yet all she got from him was that sa indifferent expression.
’Why do I even care?’
She had only co because it was expected of her as High Judicar, not because of him.
Ingrid released another quiet scoff, her face remaining perfectly composed.
Yet both her hands were curled tightly at her sides.
...
A full minute passed, yet Zephyrion still sat in the exact sa position, staring toward the door Ingrid had left through with a calculating glint in his eyes.
The entire interaction had been strange.
No... more than strange. It unsettled him.
He had already ford a conclusion about Ingrid long ago, yet everything that had just happened directly contradicted the image he held of her.
Ingrid had hated him since childhood due to his talent and perhaps because he had been chosen as heir despite her being the firstborn.
Yet she had advised him, helped arrange attire for the banquet, and even forced herself to congratulate him. Everything had been awkward and sowhat stiff, but it still felt sincere.
It did not fit the image of a hostile throne chaser.
’I have to reevaluate.’
It seed Ingrid wasn’t the person he believed her to be. Though the realization irritated him slightly, he couldn’t bla himself too much for making the mistake.
Most of his assumptions about her had been ford during childhood, back when he barely understood anything about people.
All this while, he might have completely misunderstood Ingrid.
Zephyrion released a slow breath. He was just about to stand when a figure casually stepped into the living room, whistling loudly.
The maid, Kilo.
The mont her eyes landed on Zephyrion seated on the couch, her entire body jolted violently and she stumbled backward straight into the wall.
"Heeeee—!"
A second later, realization struck her.
"Y-young lord!" Kilo imdiately bowed so hard it looked like her spine almost snapped in half. "I-I apologize! I didn’t know you were here! I thought the room was empty!"
Kilo’s body trembled uncontrollably. re seconds beneath Zephyrion’s silent gaze and sweat had already ford across her skin. That night remained deeply carved into her mind.
’Demon.’
Kilo gulped unconsciously, recalling how she felt while watching the live broadcast of the Proving. Pity. Intense pity for the poor youths forced into the competition alongside him. From the very beginning, his victory had felt completely inevitable.
"Where’s Tobias?"
"...the ward?" Kilo blinked rapidly before her face changed slightly. "A-ah... now that I think about it, I haven’t seen him since this morning, young lord. Should I go check his room?"
"Please do."
"Yes!"
Kilo hurried off almost imdiately. Monts later, she returned with visible panic written across her face.
"Y-young l-lord! H-he’s gone! His room is empty and all his clothes are missing too! I-I only found this!"
Zephyrion’s eyes lowered toward the envelope she nervously stretched toward him. He accepted it calmly before opening it and reading the contents within.
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