CHAPTER 22: DARIAN SOLMERE

By the time we’d finished cleaning up, the night had settled deep over the city. The faint hum of mana lanterns echoed through the quiet streets.

I glanced at the clock on the wall — [8:55].

Ariana noticed it too and flinched slightly. "I-It’s already that late?"

"Yeah," I said, drying my hands with a towel. "You should head back. The academy dorms lock their gates at nine."

She nodded quickly, her usual timid self-returning. "T-Thank you for today, teacher. I... really enjoyed it."

"Glad to hear it," I said with a faint smile. "Be careful on your way."

She clutched her bag, hesitated for a moment, and then — almost shyly — gave a small bow.

"I’ll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah. See you tomorrow, Ariana."

She turned and stepped out into the cool night, the faint glow of the streetlights catching in her silver hair.

I followed her to the gate, leaning casually against the wooden fence.

Down the street, a carriage waited — black, elegant, clearly belonging to nobility.

As she approached, a uniformed coachman stepped forward and opened the door for her.

Before entering, Ariana turned her head slightly — just enough for her eyes to meet mine from a distance.

A tiny, fleeting smile crossed her lips before she climbed inside.

The carriage wheels clattered softly against the cobblestones as it pulled away, vanishing into the night.

Only after the sound faded completely did I turn and head back inside.

For some reason, the house felt... emptier than before.

*****

By the time we’d finished cleaning up, the night had settled deep over the city. The faint hum of mana lanterns echoed through the quiet streets.

I glanced at the clock on the wall — [8:55].

Ariana noticed it too and flinched slightly. "I-It’s already that late?"

"Yeah," I said, drying my hands with a towel. "You should head back. The academy dorms lock their gates at nine."

She nodded quickly, her usual timid self returning. "T-Thank you for today, teacher. I... really enjoyed it."

"Glad to hear it," I said with a faint smile. "Be careful on your way."

She clutched her bag, hesitated for a moment, and then — almost shyly — gave a small bow.

"I’ll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah. See you tomorrow, Ariana."

She turned and stepped out into the cool night, the faint glow of the streetlights catching in her silver hair.

I followed her to the gate, leaning casually against the wooden fence.

Down the street, a carriage waited — black, elegant, clearly belonging to nobility.

As she approached, a uniformed coachman stepped forward and opened the door for her.

Before entering, Ariana turned her head slightly — just enough for her eyes to meet mine from a distance.

A tiny, fleeting smile crossed her lips before she climbed inside.

The carriage wheels clattered softly against the cobblestones as it pulled away, vanishing into the night.

Only after the sound faded completely did I turn and head back inside.

For some reason, the house felt... emptier than before.

*****

Somewhere inside Solmere Estate

The candlelight flickered faintly inside a lavishly decorated office — a room of dark mahogany walls and heavy velvet curtains. The faint smell of old paper and ink hung in the air.

Before the grand desk knelt a man in a black cloak and mask.

Behind the desk sat a broad-shouldered man with sharp, hawk-like eyes — his very presence weighed on the air.

"Lucien Ashborne," the duke repeated slowly, his voice deep and measured. "You’re certain that’s the name?"

"Yes, my lord," the masked man replied, head bowed. "Young Miss Ariana has been... in contact with him. They were seen together multiple times at the academy cafeteria. And today—"

He hesitated slightly. "Today, they went to the city together."

The duke leaned forward, his hand resting on the polished desk. The candlelight caught his features — strong jaw, graying hair at the temples, and eyes that gleamed like steel.

"Go on."

"They purchased groceries together," the man continued. "And later... Young Miss stayed for several hours at his residence."

The room fell silent.

Duke Darian Solmere’s expression darkened, his gaze turning glacial.

"...Stayed for several hours?"

"Yes, my lord."

"What were they doing," he said, his voice growing colder, "for several hours?"

The masked man’s breath hitched as the air itself seemed to thicken with killing intent.

"C–Cooking, sir!" he stammered.

The pressure vanished instantly.

"...Cooking?"

The duke’s brows furrowed. His tone was unreadable — somewhere between disbelief and confusion.

The agent nodded hastily. "Y-Yes, my lord. It seems Young Miss requested him to teach her. They were seen carrying food supplies, and according to my observations, she was... smiling."

For a long moment, Darian said nothing. He leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping lightly on the desk as a faint, unreadable smile curved his lips.

"...Ariana," he murmured. "That timid girl who can barely utter a word to anyone... asked someone to teach her?"

"Yes, my lord. And she seemed... comfortable with him. She didn’t stutter once while speaking to him, according the reports received."

The rhythmic tapping of the duke’s finger on the desk stopped.

Darian Solmere’s eyes narrowed slightly, a thoughtful gleam flickering within them.

"...Interesting," he murmured.

Then, slowly, the corners of his lips curved upward — not in mockery, but faint amusement.

"Even when her own brothers can’t get more than two words out of her," he mused. "And now that same girl—learning to cook from someone who was known throughout the academy as a delinquent?"

He leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking softly beneath his weight. The candlelight carved faint lines along his face — traces of age, of stress, of buried regret.

"Lucien Ashborne..." he said the name slowly, tasting it like a distant memory. "Son of Count Darius Ashborne. The same boy who was recently disciplined by the academy and exiled from his house... a disgrace to noble blood."

He exhaled through his nose — half a sigh, half a quiet chuckle.

"And yet," he murmured, "my daughter smiles when she’s with him."

The kneeling man hesitated. "Should we... intervene, my lord?"

Darian waved his hand dismissively. "No. Not yet."

His tone was calm — measured but edged with curiosity. "Continue your observation. Do not interfere. If Lucien Ashborne truly managed to draw Ariana out of her shell..."

He paused, his gaze settling on the flickering candle.

"...then I want to see just what kind of man he is."

"Yes, my lord."

The masked man bowed deeply, then slipped into the shadows, vanishing soundlessly as the heavy doors closed behind him.

Silence reclaimed the room.

The duke leaned back in his chair once more, fingers steepled beneath his chin. The flickering flame reflected faintly in his eyes, softening the hard, cold steel usually found there.

For a long time, he simply sat there — staring at nothing, lost in thought.

His daughter, Ariana Solmere.

The quiet child who once clung to his arm, who laughed freely and asked endless questions about the world... until the time of her training began.

He exhaled slowly.

He remembered the disappointment, the frustration — his own, and others’. He had been young then, ambitious, consumed by power and politics. All he had ever wanted was an heir who could uphold the Solmere name.

And Ariana — born frail, with no magic, no sword talent — was a reminder of his failure.

He didn’t hate her. He simply... neglected her.

He allowed the whispers to grow. The servants’ disrespect, the cold gazes, the isolation.

And he never corrected them.

Too focused on his duties, too busy strengthening alliances and estates.

Until one day, he noticed she had stopped coming to greet him altogether.

The girl who once laughed in his arms now trembled in his presence.

The realization still ached — a quiet wound that never quite healed.

His fingers tightened around the armrest.

"It’s been so long," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "So long since I’ve seen her smile."

He closed his eyes briefly, then chuckled lowly — not cold, but almost... wistful.

"If this Lucien boy has managed that much... then perhaps I owe him a measure of respect."

He paused, his mind already turning, sharp as ever.

House Ashborne.

A frontier family, constantly at war with monsters along the northern borders. A place of blood, steel, and mana stones — and wealth earned through danger.

Even now, their lands supplied nearly a quarter of the empire’s mana resources.

Lucien might have been exiled, yes. But Darian knew Count Darius Ashborne well — a man of unyielding discipline, but also a father who loved his child more than he admitted.

He won’t let his only son remain exiled for long. I believe there must be people shadowing around him for his protection.

And when that day came...

Darian smiled faintly, eyes glinting with quiet amusement.

"Perhaps this isn’t such a bad thing after all."

He leaned forward, extinguishing the candle flame with a soft breath.

The room plunged into darkness.

Only his final murmur echoed quietly in the silence:

"Lucien Ashborne... let’s see if you’re truly worthy of the smile you’ve given my daughter."