CHAPTER 55: CHAPTER 55

Lucien sat up slowly, his vision still a little unsteady, the bitter aftertaste of the potion clinging stubbornly to his tongue like wet leaves in a storm. His limbs, though no longer aching, still held a lingering sourness, as though his very bones were stretching after a long slumber. Beside him, Marie gently held out a hand to help him to his feet.

"Easy now, young master," she said softly, wrapping her arm under his shoulder with a practiced strength. Lucien rose unsteadily, wobbling for a second before finding balance. Marie steadied him without effort.

Lucien groaned lightly and rolled his shoulders, flexing his neck from side to side as if trying to shake the soreness away. "Ugh. That potion was a nightmare..."

Marie chuckled, then dusted off his clothes with a keen eye. Her hands smoothed out the front of his tunic, patting away the grass and dirt that had clung to him while he slept. Her touch was meticulous, almost tender. She paused for a moment, her gaze drifting to the fallen dessert a few paces away, her expression tightening.

Lucien didn’t notice the sudden chill that passed through her eyes.

"You should go ahead now," Marie said, her voice firm but composed. "I’ll clean up here."

Lucien nodded, still feeling the sluggish effects of the potion. "Thanks, Marie. I owe you one."

She gave him a short bow, but her gaze lingered coldly on the stained jelly lying abandoned in the grass, her fingers curling ever so slightly.

Lucien, unaware of her quiet fury, began his slow walk back toward the mansion. Each step was a bit easier than the last, though a faint throb still pulsed in his temples. He grimaced and gently rubbed his head.

That headache... What the hell was that? he thought.

When he tried to recall what happened, a sharp pain pinched behind his eyes. He winced and sighed. Nope. Not yet.

The corridors of House Velebrandt were as majestic as ever, the walls etched with golden vines and the floor beneath him a seamless, polished marble that gleamed like moonlight. He passed several guards and maids along the way, each giving him curious or admiring glances, some offering polite bows. Lucien returned them with silent nods, though he could feel their eyes linger longer than usual.

When he reached the ornate double doors of the west reception chamber, two knights stationed at either side straightened and saluted.

"Young Master Lucien," one said with crisp formality. "Your father and mother await inside."

Lucien gave a small nod, and the knights pulled open the doors with synchronized grace.

A warm, amber light spilled out from the chamber’s crystal chandeliers. The air was scented faintly with lavender and polished oakwood. At the far end of the chamber, Lucien saw his parents—Grand Duke Aldric and Archduchess Seraphina—seated on a long, elegant couch speaking to a curious figure.

Or rather—an incredibly small one.

The figure stood no taller than a child of ten, yet emanated a quiet, grounded presence that felt... ancient. The figure’s hair was a long waterfall of pale green curls that shimmered slightly, as though reflecting the pulse of the world itself. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, and her dress was simple but elegant—white linen embroidered with tiny golden thread leaves, woven with such care that it looked grown rather than stitched. Her long ears, unmistakably elven, twitched lightly as she turned.

Lucien’s family looked to him. And then the figure did, too.

Her eyes were green—not just the color of jade or emerald, but the vibrant green of living things, of spring mornings and dew-kissed moss. Her expression was calm, composed, and oddly knowing.

She was the first to speak, her voice a soft, mature tone that resonated like water over stone.

"Is this the child who requires guidance?"

Seraphina answered before Lucien could. "Yes. This is our son, Lucien Caelum Velebrandt. He awakened recently, but... we have not yet determined the nature of his power."

Aldric stood and added with his usual commanding tone, "With the system shutting down for a month now, we are uncertain if it is aura, mana, or holy power. My wife is of the mage lineage, but the patterns of Lucien’s awakening were inconclusive. It is for this reason we summoned you. Your reputation has reached our ears from across the Empire."

The druid placed a hand over her chest and gave a small, humble bow. "There is no need to flatter me. I only do what must be done. In times like these, with the Abyssian King’s resurrection, it is natural for every race to extend help. Especially the dire situation of the human empire childrens for not being able to determine their givin powers."

She gave a small smile. "And besides, if a child has awakened and yet knows not the path their soul treads, it is only right to offer them clarity."

Her tone, while gentle, carried no false modesty. Lucien felt it—a deep, serene strength.

"Shall we begin the process immediately?" she asked. "There are many others awaiting guidance. I would prefer to offer your son the answers he seeks before the sun falls."

Seraphina nodded gracefully. Aldric motioned toward Lucien. "Go on, son. Sit with her."

Lucien, seeing his parents gesture toward the plush seat beside the druid, nodded without resistance. Even after enduring the array of bitter potions, his limbs still felt like soft dough and his eyelids heavy. All he truly wanted now was to bury himself under a warm blanket and sleep for an entire day. But duty came first—or rather, identification. With sluggish steps, he walked forward and quietly sat next to the small druid girl.

The moment he settled down, the druid—her feet barely grazing the floor—cast him a quick glance before turning her gaze toward the Grand Duke and Archduchess. Her green eyes subtly signaled for privacy.

Understanding her silent request, Aldric Velebrandt slowly rose from his seat, followed by Seraphina. She gave her son one last fond look and gently reminded him, "Make sure to listen to what Miss Lunar tells you, alright?"

Lucien gave a slow nod. "Yes, Mother."

So her name is Lunar... Lucien registered quietly in his head.

As his parents exited and the heavy doors shut with a gentle thud, Lunar raised her small arms and directed them to the ceiling. A faint chant flowed from her lips—melodic and ancient. A muted beam of gray light descended from above, weaving itself across the edges of the room. Within seconds, a semi-translucent dome wrapped the chamber in a gentle sheen. The air shifted, and everything became unnervingly still.

Lucien blinked, slightly alarmed. "What was that...?"

Lunar turned to him with an even tone. "A sound-silencing barrier. Nothing spoken here will leave this space. A necessary precaution for power identifications—especially for nobles."

Lucien nodded, though his curiosity waned quickly, muffled by the growing weight on his consciousness.

"Now," Lunar said, tucking a lock of her curly green hair behind one elongated ear. "Please remove your upper garments."

Lucien sighed inwardly. He didn’t want to resist. He was far too tired for pride. With groggy fingers, he undid the ornate clasps of his noble shirt and slipped it off. The fabric rustled against the couch as he laid back, torso exposed to the filtered light above.

"Lie back and relax," Lunar instructed softly. "Don’t move too much. I’ll be scanning for residual spiritual and physical energies."

Lucien mumbled a sleepy, "Mm-hm," and let his body sink into the velvet of the couch. As his head tilted slightly to the side, he gazed up at Lunar through half-lidded eyes. Her delicate figure, her moonlight-pale skin, her glowing presence...

Why does she seem so familiar...?

In his dazed mind, a blurry image flickered—a memory from the goddess Elyssira’s domain. A little girl with long green hair...

Lucien blinked, but didn’t chase the thought. He was already falling asleep.

Lunar exhaled slowly as she took a step closer, placing her hands just above Lucien’s chest. The glow from her palms flickered like moonlight dancing on water.

She bit her lower lip, trying to focus.

He’s... ridiculously handsome.

Even as a child, his face held a sculpted elegance that outshone most adults. And yet it wasn’t just the sharp jawline or the long lashes—it was the subtle softness, the quiet confidence even in sleep, the noble air that wasn’t arrogant but natural.

Lunar mentally slapped herself back to focus. She had traveled across empires. From the soaring canopies of the Elven dominion to the glittering citadels of Celestians. She had met famed mages, young princes, even the rumored Phoenix-Dragon blooded twins of the Drakari Empire.

But none had a face like this.

None had this... presence.

How are the women in this mansion so calm around him...?

Am I the only one internally combusting?

Shaking her head slightly, she placed her hands closer. The soft hum of energy pulsed between her fingers, dancing like fine strands of light over Lucien’s skin. And with each passing second, something deep within Lucien began to stir.

A latent warmth. A whisper of power.

Lunar took a breath, calming her thoughts. Whatever mystery lay within Lucien, she would uncover it.