CHAPTER 104: WINTER FAMILY [I]

Azel carried the bundle of winter garments into the small side room, which he assumed was meant for bathing and changing.

The air inside was colder than the rest of the chamber, carrying a faint, crisp scent of snow and pine.

He unfolded the garments with a skeptical look.

The so-called "shirt" was nothing more than two long sleeves stitched to a band of fabric that clung to the shoulders.

His entire chest was left bare.

The only real piece of coverage was a scarf of snowy white fur which was dense, silky, and warm.

Azel’s fingers brushed over it, recognizing the material that was used to make it..

"Frost wolf," he muttered.

It was unmistakable.

The same pelt his father Azariah wore proudly, well he couldn’t say no to it though, even if it didn’t have a head.

"Well," Azel sighed, "I don’t have a choice."

He peeled off the rest of his Empire-styled clothing, folding it with care before slipping it into his storage ring.

The cold air nipped at his skin, but his body had already adapted somewhat to the Winter Palace’s chill.

Still, standing bare in this strange place that was supposed to be home felt oddly... vulnerable.

Before he could pull the new garments over his frame, a familiar voice echoed inside his mind.

[Whoa~] Nyala’s voice was light, almost childlike with wonder. [Your thing is big. Is it supposed to be that big when it’s soft?]

Azel froze mid-motion, his jaw tightening. "...Really?"

Her tone was filled with genuine curiosity, and before he could form a retort, Kyone’s sultry, teasing laughter joined in.

[It’s far larger than that of the average man.] Her voice dripped like honey over frost. [Our husband is very... endowed. Hehe~ I can’t wait for it to be inside me.]

Nyala squealed. [Me first!]

Azel yanked his pants up, face tightening in irritation.

"Shameless goddesses," he muttered, pulling on the exposed-chest shirt and fastening the Frost wolf scarf across his shoulders.

Warmth spread through him immediately, a steady protective aura flowing from the pelt.

[Now you look like a warrior,] Kyone praised with satisfaction.

Azel looked at himself in the polished metal mirror.

If this were Earth, he’d call it cosplay — something you’d see at a convention rather than on a battlefield.

Yet, with the weight of the fur across his shoulders and the open display of his physique, it carried an undeniable authority.

He stepped back into the chamber just as the door opened.

A maid entered, her footsteps light, her silver hair catching the lantern-light.

Her eyes, a piercing winter blue, fell on Azel then widened, as though she had seen a ghost.

Her breath hitched.

’Young master... I heard he had returned, but... when did he change so much?’

Azel blinked, his mind stirring.

Though his memories of this place were blank, a name pressed against his tongue like a whisper from the past.

"...Ann..."

The maid froze, her pale cheeks flushing scarlet.

"It’s Anya, My Prince," she said quickly, bowing low with practiced grace. "Anya, your personal attendant. It... gladdens me that you remembered even a little."

Her voice trembled with the weight of emotion. "I hope I can support you during your time here — and even after you leave."

Azel studied her.

Her sincerity was almost startling.

He gave a nod. "Anya."

She looked as if he had granted her the world just by saying her name. "The Patriarch and the rest of your family await you in the dining hall. Shall I guide you?"

He nodded again, casting a glance at the three still lounging on the bed — Edna, Medusa, and little Lillia.

"I’ll be back," he told them.

They waved, Edna burying her blush in the pillow when she realized he looked even more handsome dressed in the Frost wolf pelt.

The palace halls were long and winding, their sliding wooden doors and shadowed lanterns reminding Azel of traditional Japanese estates.

Snowflakes drifted through cracks in the high windows, carried on cold winds.

"Young Master," Anya said softly as she led him, her voice faintly trembling, "your mother and younger sister have been waiting for you. They were overjoyed when word came of your return. Please... spend time with them. They’ve searched for you for years."

Her words struck a chord he couldn’t place.

The warmth in her tone made his chest feel heavier.

"...I see," Azel said at last.

They reached a broad staircase.

At the bottom, Anya guided him to an open dining chamber.

The scent of roasted meat filled his nostrils instantly.

A long table stretched across the room, laden with delicacies — steaming platters of snow beast stew, grilled river fish with scales that glimmered like crystals, breads baked with frostflower grains, and mugs brimming with dark mead.

At the head sat Azariah.

His father was every bit the giant of a man Azel remembered meeting before — broad-shouldered, bearded, grinning wide as he tore into a hunk of fried meat and washed it down with a gulp of drink.

Beside him was a woman who didn’t eat.

She was stunning, mature, with long silver hair cascading down her shoulders and crimson eyes that mirrored Azel’s own.

Her posture was straight, dignified, but her eyes brimmed with worry.

Her dress was elegant, more fitting for the Empire than the harsh winter.

And last, seated across from her, was a young girl — no older than eight or nine shoving meat into her mouth with reckless abandon.

Grease slicked her lips, crumbs clung to her cheeks, and her little hands worked furiously to keep up with her appetite.

Her silver hair was messy, but her crimson eyes sparkled with mischief.

The three of them turned toward him at once.

Anya bowed low. "Patriarch, I have brought the Prince."

All eyes fixed on Azel.

He froze in the doorway, suddenly more nervous than when he had faced Kyone’s monstrous power.

His throat went dry, his palms itched and he felt the need to run.

"...Hey?" he managed to say, awkwardly.