Ludger stepped closer, still half in disbelief. The twins were impossibly small, bundled in soft cloth, their breathing light and steady — one with faint wisps of pale hair like Elaine’s, the other with a darker hue that matched Arslan’s.

He cleared his throat, his voice quieter than usual. “...So,” he said, “what are their names?”

Arslan’s expression softened immediately. He shifted his stance slightly, adjusting the baby in his arms with a kind of care Ludger rarely saw from him. “Elle,” he said, nodding toward the tiny girl in Elaine’s arms. “And this little warrior here,” he lifted the boy slightly, “is Arash.”

“Elle and Arash,” Ludger repeated slowly. The names rolled off his tongue easily — elegant, but simple.

Arslan chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. “Your mother named you, so it’s only fair I got to name these two. Tradition, balance… call it what you want.”

Elaine smiled tiredly but with amusement. “I didn’t protest. He wouldn’t stop pacing the room until he decided.”

Ludger blinked, studying the names for a moment, then let a faint grin creep across his face. “Elle… Arash…” He tilted his head slightly. “You really used names similar to yours, didn’t you?”

The room went quiet for a second, and then all eyes turned to Arslan.

His grin widened like a man who’d just been caught doing something clever. “You noticed.”

Elaine laughed softly, shaking her head. “Of course he did.”

Aronia chuckled from where she stood near the window. “That’s adorable — in a ‘I can’t believe he actually did that’ kind of way.”

Harold let out a bark of laughter. “So the next one’s gonna be called Arlaine?”

“Shut up,” Arslan said, but even he was laughing now. “You try coming up with something meaningful under pressure.”

Cor smirked. “Meaningful, sure. Subtle? Not so much.”

Ludger folded his arms, grinning now. “Guess I can’t mock you too hard. At least they’ll always know who to blame for the name choice.”

Yvar adjusted his glasses, looking entirely too amused. “It’s actually rather fitting. A symbolic link between the two of you and your children — unity of blood and heritage, one might say.”

Arslan gave a firm nod, looking oddly satisfied with that interpretation. “Exactly. See? Someone gets it.”

Elaine sighed with mock exasperation. “You mean you’re just glad someone called it poetic instead of lazy. Well, the names are pretty, so it is alright.”

“Poetic sounds better in front of the kids,” Arslan said, smirking.

The room filled with laughter again, the kind that carried warmth rather than noise. Even Ludger couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head.

“Elle and Arash,” he said again under his breath, looking at the sleeping twins. “Not bad, old man. Not bad at all.”

Arslan puffed out his chest slightly, looking far too proud for his own good. “Of course not. You think I’d waste good names on anyone else?”

Elaine rolled her eyes, but there was love in her voice when she said, “I swear, between you and Ludger, I’ll never have a quiet dinner again.”

Ludger smiled, the kind of rare, genuine smile that softened the sharpness of his usual tone. “You wouldn’t want it any other way.”

The room settled into a peaceful quiet after that, filled only by the faint crackle of the fireplace and the soft breathing of the twins. And for the first time in a long while, Ludger felt like the world wasn’t something he had to fight — it was something he could protect.

Elaine sat down gently on the edge of the couch, Arash still resting peacefully in her arms. The glow of the fire painted her face with that quiet warmth only mothers had — calm, patient, and impossible to argue with.

She looked up at Ludger, who was standing awkwardly near the door, unsure what to do with his hands.

“Do you want to hold one of them?” she asked softly.

Ludger blinked. “Me?” He scratched the back of his neck. “Uh… I’m way too clumsy for that, Mom. I might drop him.”

Elaine chuckled quietly. “You’re not going to drop anyone.”

Before he could protest, she stood up and carefully passed Arash into his arms. Ludger stiffened instantly, his brain screaming at him not to move — not even breathe too hard.

The baby stirred slightly, then settled, tiny fingers curling around the edge of Ludger’s sleeve.

For a second, all sound faded.

Ludger’s usual guarded expression softened — his jaw unclenched, and that habitual smirk he wore like armor melted into something far quieter.

A real smile.

Elaine’s eyes sparkled with pride. “There,” she said. “Now that’s a genuine smile. Not that little smirk you use when you’re pretending to be clever.”

Ludger chuckled under his breath, still looking down at Arash. “Yeah, well… I don’t think I could smirk right now even if I tried.”

“Good,” Elaine said warmly. “You’re a big brother now. That means you get to show the little ones how to behave properly.”

He glanced up at her, one eyebrow raised. “You say that like I’m qualified for it.”

Arslan laughed from the table. “You’re more qualified than you think. Speaking of big brother duties—”

Elaine turned toward a side cabinet and picked up a small wooden box tied with a neat red ribbon. “Your sister sent something for your birthday.”

Ludger blinked. “Viola?”

Arslan nodded, amusement flickering across his face. “She came by yesterday to see the twins. Dropped this off but left before you could get here. Said she didn’t want to deal with your teasing after you saw what she picked.”

“Sounds about right,” Ludger muttered, smirking faintly again. “So what’s the mysterious gift?”

Elaine set the box on the table and opened it carefully. Inside, folded neatly, was a dark green scarf — simple, well-made, and surprisingly stylish.

“She said it would suit you,” Elaine said, lifting it gently. “Viola might act a bit boyish sometimes, but she has good taste. The color matches your eyes.”

Ludger blinked, then looked away with an embarrassed cough. “That’s… actually not bad.”

Harold snorted from across the room. “Careful, kid. If you compliment her next time, she might die of shock.”

Ludger shot him a dry glare. “I’ll save that for her next birthday, then.”

Elaine laughed, shaking her head. “You two never change.”

Ludger looked back down at the baby in his arms — tiny, peaceful, completely unaware of the world he’d just been born into — and something in his chest tightened.

He smiled again, softer this time. “Guess being a big brother isn’t that bad after all.”

Elaine reached over, brushing his hair lightly. “You’ll be a good one.”

“...Yeah,” Ludger said quietly, eyes on Arash. “I’ll make sure of it.”

The room stayed warm and still, filled with the sound of faint laughter and the soft breathing of the twins — and for the first time in years, the family felt whole again.

Ludger sat down carefully, still holding Arash as the others laughed and talked around him. The warmth of the fire, the smell of home-cooked food, and the faint cooing of the twins made the whole scene feel almost unreal. For once, things actually felt right.

But that nagging thought in the back of his head refused to stay quiet.

He exhaled, glancing from his mother to his father. “Changing the topic a bit,” he said, his tone even, “but… why are you here? Why this house, and why was I the last one to find out about it?”

The air in the room shifted. Arslan’s smile faded, replaced by something heavier, more deliberate. He exchanged a quick look with Elaine.

“Because,” Arslan began, his voice calm but firm, “you weren’t supposed to know until everything was safe.”

Ludger frowned slightly. “Safe?”

Arslan nodded. “A few months back, Lord Torvares received a letter from the Imperial capital. An invitation for Viola — and for you.”

Ludger blinked. “...An invitation?”

Elaine added quietly, “To the Imperial School.”

Ludger’s brows furrowed. “That same academy that expelled Viola years ago?”

“The very same,” Arslan said. “And not just for her — the letter included your name too. The Empire’s trying to pull you closer, son. Closer to them.”

He leaned back. “Lord Torvares and Viola didn’t trust it for a second. The timing, the tone — none of it felt right. So, instead of responding, they contacted me. We agreed to move up here, to the north, before the Empire tried anything… persuasive.”

Ludger’s grip on the baby tightened slightly — not out of anger, but from the effort of keeping calm.

“So… this house—”

“Built in secret,” Arslan said. “Under Viola’s grandfather’s orders. No records, no names. Even the builders didn’t know who it was for. He wanted your family close, but hidden. Safer here, under the protection of your guild and your allies, than anywhere near the capital.”

Elaine nodded softly. “We couldn’t risk sending word through letters either. If anyone was watching, even from afar, it would’ve drawn suspicion.”

Ludger’s eyes narrowed faintly. “So you all thought I was being watched?”

Arslan met his gaze evenly. “Not thought, knew it was possible. You’ve made enough waves up here to catch attention. If they wanted leverage over you, the family would’ve been the easiest target.”

For a moment, silence filled the room — just the faint crackling of the fire and the sound of Arash breathing softly in Ludger’s arms.

He wanted to feel angry. He really did. Angry that people were still playing political games with his life like it was a piece on a board.

But as he looked around — at his parents alive and well, at the twins safe and sleeping, at the friends who’d gone through the trouble of keeping it quiet — the anger melted before it could even form.

He sighed deeply, closing his eyes for a moment as he rubbed his temple with one hand. “...I didn’t see that one coming.”

Arslan chuckled quietly. “Good. It means we did our job right.”

Elaine smiled gently. “You can be mad later. For now, just enjoy the moment.”

Ludger exhaled through his nose, a wry half-smile tugging at his lips. “You realize you’re asking a lot from someone with my self-control, right?”

Arslan grinned. “You’ve improved. You didn’t punch the table — I’ll take that as progress.”

Ludger let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, I guess I really have.”

He glanced back down at the twins, still sleeping soundly, and the tension in his shoulders finally eased. Whatever frustration lingered could wait. Right now, they were safe.

Ludger forced the tension from his shoulders and took a slow breath. There would be time later to worry about the Empire, the school, and whatever schemes were hiding behind that letter. For now—just for tonight—he wanted to enjoy what he had.

He stayed with his family through the afternoon, letting the warmth of the house wash over him. The sound of laughter, clinking cups, and the twins’ soft breathing drowned out everything else. Eventually, Elaine nudged him again, holding out the other baby.

“Your turn,” she said gently. “Elle wants to meet her big brother too.”

Ludger hesitated, but took the bundle carefully. Elle’s tiny face peeked out from the blanket—delicate, calm, and impossibly small. The moment his hands steadied, her eyelids fluttered open, revealing soft green eyes that mirrored his own.

For an instant, she just looked at him—like she recognized him somehow. Then, just as quickly, her eyes drooped shut again, and she fell asleep.

Ludger’s chest tightened. He’d felt countless things since waking up in this world—fear, anger, exhaustion, fleeting satisfaction. But this… this was different.

Warm. Steady.

Pure.

Holding the twins like this, surrounded by people who mattered, he felt something that even victory or power couldn’t give him. It wasn’t just happiness—it was purpose.

That night, after dinner, after everyone had eaten and talked until they were too tired to laugh anymore, Ludger quietly slipped outside.

The air hit him sharp and cold. The moon hung low over the borderlands, silver light glinting off the roofs and frost patches. He walked slowly through the quiet streets, nodding to the guards who stood their posts.

“Sir?” one of them called. “Heading out this late?”

“Just walking,” Ludger replied. “Keep your posts. I won’t be long.”

They hesitated, but didn’t stop him. Everyone here knew better than to question him when he had that look in his eyes. In fact, it looked like the eyes of someone they never had seen before.

He walked beyond the walls until the lights of the town faded behind him. The night stretched wide and open, and the northern wind cut against his skin like knives.

Up on a small hill, he stopped—before a massive boulder, three times his size.

He stared at it for a long moment, his breath steady, the scarf Viola had given him fluttering around his neck. It kept the wind off his skin, soft and warm—just enough to anchor him in the present.

Then, slowly, his expression changed.

The calm vanished. His aura flared, rippling through the air like heat distortion. The ground beneath him quivered, as raw mana pulsed outward. His skin reddened, veins and muscles bulging as the Rage Flow ignited inside him.

Steam began to rise from his shoulders as he drew back his right arm.

He didn’t roar, didn’t grunt, didn’t say a word. He just punched.

The world shook.

The impact tore through the air with a dull, thunderous crack—the kind that traveled for miles. The boulder shattered, exploding into shards and dust that rained across the terrain like molten glass.

For a second, there was only silence. Then the steam pouring from his body began to fade, his aura settling until the night air felt still again.

Ludger looked down at his arm—swollen, bruised, completely fractured. His fingers trembled faintly from the backlash. But the pain barely registered. It wasn’t physical.

It was the fury he’d been holding back since hearing his father’s explanation.

He moved his injured hand slowly, voice low and steady.

“If they ever try anything against my family…”

His eyes hardened, gleaming like tempered steel under the moonlight.

“The Empire will sink to the bottom of the damn ocean.”

The words hung in the air like a vow—cold, unbreakable, absolute.

Then he turned, wrapped the green scarf tighter around his neck, and started back toward the sleeping town.