CHAPTER 544: BACK HOME FOR A VISIT (5)

At the main doors of the Silverhart household, the evening light spilled across the entryway just as two feminine figures stepped inside. The first moved with an easy grace, her long blonde hair cascading down her back in soft waves. Her blue eyes were bright with animation as she chatted beside her companion, and her attire—brown leather pants paired with a neatly tucked white blouse and scuffed but sturdy boots—gave her the look of someone who valued both style and function. It was Elsie, the unmistakable reflection of her mother, Ms. Rose. The resemblance was so striking that anyone who knew the two never failed to comment on how they seemed almost cut from the same cloth.

Beside her walked another young woman, slightly taller and with a darker, softer allure. Her long wavy hair, colored like rich onyx, framed a face lit by playful green eyes. She wore an outfit similar to Elsie’s—practical trousers, a fitted blouse, and boots suited for both walking and wandering—though hers carried a different flair, an effortless casualness that came from years of comfort rather than conscious style. This was Alice, Elsie’s childhood friend, the girl who had practically grown up in this very estate, moving in and out as freely as a second daughter to the Silverharts.

Both girls carried mage tomes pressed to their sides, the leather-bound covers worn and softened by constant use. They stepped inside with easy familiarity, the sound of their light-hearted giggles echoing faintly through the front hall.

"Did you see the look on Professor Ayden’s face?" Alice asked between stifled bursts of laughter, trying not to drop the tome slipping in her grip. "He nearly choked when you corrected him. Again."

Elsie nudged her with her elbow. "It’s not my fault he mixed up the sigil placement. And you were the one gasping loud enough for the entire class to hear."

"That’s because he looked like he aged ten years in five seconds!" Alice countered, and the girls both dissolved into quiet giggles once more as they made their way deeper into the entrance hall.

Yet just as their laughter settled into softer smiles, Alice’s nose twitched subtly, her steps slowing as she inhaled. A few seconds later she stopped fully, her brows lifting in instant recognition. "Elsie... do you smell that?"

Elsie paused mid-step, lifting her chin slightly as she pulled in the scent, and the moment it hit her, her eyes widened with an almost childlike delight. A warm, rich aroma drifted through the air—savory, buttery, spiced, and unmistakably home. It filled the hall with a pull so irresistible it might as well have been invisible hands dragging them toward the source.

"That’s... that’s roasted basil chicken," Elsie whispered, almost reverently.

"And lemon-buttered potatoes," Alice added, her voice already thick with hunger.

"And—oh gods—is that garlic-herb glaze?" Elsie nearly groaned, her jaw tightening as her stomach clenched in betrayal.

Alice swallowed hard, her mouth already watering. "Your mother is cooking for a noble, isn’t she?"

"She must be," Elsie answered immediately, because this level of culinary perfection appeared only on special occasions. "Mother only cooks like this when we have a guest—an important one."

"Well," Alice said with a bright grin, rubbing her hands together, "I’m grateful for whoever it is, because if this is the guest treatment, then we eat like royalty tonight."

The girls exchanged a single look—one of pure, synchronized hunger—and then bolted down the hallway with the unrestrained speed of starving hyenas on the hunt. Their boots struck the wooden floor in rapid, urgent beats, their tomes held tight against their sides as if they were sprinting for their lives.

When they turned the corner toward the kitchen corridor, the aroma intensified so powerfully that both girls slowed instinctively, eyes half-lidded as they inhaled the scent like addicts finding their favorite vice again. Everything smelled richer here—the spices, the butter, the roasted meats—sending their imaginations spiraling with images of fully laid tables and overflowing platters.

Elsie pushed open the swinging kitchen door first, and both she and Alice peeked inside eagerly. The warmth from the ovens rolled out in a comforting wave, wrapping around them like a thick blanket. The kitchen bustled with movement—maids carrying trays, pots simmering on stoves, and the air carrying the promise of a meal that could hush any argument.

There, in the center of it all, stood Ms. Rose, sleeves rolled up, apron tied around her waist, and focus sharp as she oversaw the finishing touches. It was a sight that instantly melted whatever lingering fatigue the girls carried from their long day.

"Mother!" Elsie called, stepping fully inside.

Rose looked up, her expression softening instantly. She chuckled warmly as she wiped her hands on a cloth before approaching her daughter and Alice. "Welcome home, the both of you. I trust you two haven’t been causing trouble."

"No more than usual," Alice replied cheerfully.

Elsie grinned. "Mother... are we expecting a noble or something? Because the aroma is overwhelming. Like... dangerously overwhelming."

Rose’s lips curved into a knowing smile as she crossed her arms loosely. "Well... you could say that we have a guest, yes. But this one is more than a guest. I think both of you will be quite surprised when you see them."

The girls exchanged a glance, their brows knitting in synchronized confusion. Elsie tilted her head. "Who is it?"

"And why does it smell like you’re cooking enough food for a feast?" Alice added.

Rose only gave them a calm smile, her eyes twinkling. "It’s better if you two see for yourselves."

"Where are they, then?" Elsie asked, glancing around the kitchen and then toward the hallway.

Rose blinked, then looked around as if only now realizing she hadn’t kept track of her guest. "Hmm... that’s actually a good question. I’m not entirely sure where he wandered off to."

Both girls stared at her for a moment, incredulous, their expressions telegraphing the silent judgment only daughters could express without speaking a word. Rose noticed—of course she noticed—and before either of them could voice their disbelief, her eyes shifted past their shoulders.

"Oh," she said softly, her tone brightening with recognition. "You don’t need to look far. Why don’t you turn around and see for yourselves?"

Elsie and Alice blinked, looked at each other once more, and then slowly turned.

Down the hallway, footsteps echoed lightly—a steady, composed rhythm that belonged to someone who moved without hesitation. A boy, taller than both of them now, approached with an air of quiet confidence. He wore a long coat that swayed gently with his stride, the dark fabric brushing against fitted trousers and a crisp white long-sleeved shirt beneath. His dark hair—longer than before—was tied back in a short, low ponytail, with a few loose strands falling to frame the sides of his face. The faint streaks of red woven through his hair caught the warm light, dancing like embers every time he moved.

His expression was calm, unreadable yet undeniably familiar.

For a heartbeat, neither Elsie nor Alice recognized him—not truly. He had grown. His posture was straighter, his presence heavier, his aura more grounded than the boy they remembered.

But then—

Elsie’s breath caught. Her eyes widened, shining instantly at the sight before her. Her lips trembled, and emotion swelled so quickly that tears gathered without permission.

"...Liam," she breathed, the name escaping her in the softest, most fragile whisper, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the moment.

Beside her, Alice’s eyes widened as well, recognition blooming across her face like a spark igniting. Shock, disbelief, and a startled kind of joy mingled in her expression as she stared at the boy the standing before them.