CHAPTER 548: BACK TO VERIDN

The rest of Liam’s stay in the Silverhart household passed in a blur—quiet morning filled with gentle chatter, peaceful evenings spent in a warmth he had almost forgotten existed, and moments of simple domestic calm that felt oddly grounding. Before he knew it, the day arrived for him to return to Veridn.

He stood at the entrance of the Silverhart estate, the familiar stone archway rising behind him and the family gathered just a few steps back. The carriage that would take him to the train station waited patiently at the foot of the path, its lacquered wood catching the early afternoon light. The breeze tugged at Liam’s coat, carrying with it the faint scent of the Silverhart gardens—fresh, clean, and comforting.

When he finally turned to face the people who had hosted him, their faces reflected varying shades of warmth and reluctance. Dr. Dain stood with his hands behind his back, posture straight but eyes softened. Ms. Rose lingered beside him with her gentle smile. Elsie shifted from foot to foot, clearly struggling to keep herself composed. Mila, Dain’s assistant, stood respectfully to the side, and Anne—the trusted maid—watched with the fondness of someone who had known Liam since he was younger.

"It was... a pleasant visit," Liam said quietly, his tone steady but sincere as he addressed all of them. "Thank you for having me. Your hospitality hasn’t changed. I appreciate it."

Dain let out a deep breath, stepping forward. "You shouldn’t speak as though you were some distant visitor," he said firmly. "Because you aren’t. We should be the ones thanking you, Liam. Having you here means more than you can imagine. Seeing you again—safe, alive, and growing—it’s worth more than words."

Rose placed a hand over her heart as she stepped to her husband’s side. "He’s right. And I hope you understand this by now," she said softly. "You will always be part of this family. This place will always be your home, no matter how much time passes or how far you go. You’re welcome here. Always."

Their words settled over him with a weight that wasn’t heavy, but grounding. Liam lowered his gaze for a moment, letting the sincerity sink in before nodding once. "Thank you," he said, voice quieter but warmer. "It means a lot. Truly. I’ll keep it in mind... and in heart."

He exhaled softly, glancing at the waiting carriage. "I should get going now."

He stepped forward to turn away, but a sudden warmth collided with him—Elsie wrapping her arms around him without warning. The embrace caught him off guard; her grip was surprisingly tight for someone who always appeared so delicate. After a heartbeat of hesitation, he returned the hug, though slower, gentler.

"Make sure you actually call this time," Elsie murmured against his shoulder, her voice wavering between stern and emotional. "If you vanish again, I swear—just forget you ever knew me."

A faint smile tugged at Liam’s mouth, small but undeniably present. "I’ll try my best," he said quietly.

She finally pulled away, though her reluctance was plain in her eyes.

Liam gave one last look at the Silverharts—the family arranged on the front steps, their warmth gathered like a soft shield around him. He bowed his head in a subtle farewell before turning and stepping toward the carriage.

The coachman, Devon, opened the door for him, and Liam climbed inside, settling into the seat as the door shut with a gentle thud. Moments later, the reins cracked lightly, and the carriage began to move.

Through the window, he watched the Silverharts wave as the estate slowly shrank behind him. Their figures grew smaller with each passing second, yet the feeling they left behind lingered—quiet, steady, and strangely comforting, even as the road carried him farther away.

Meanwhile, high above the Silverhart estate, three figures stood atop the tiled rooftop, each dressed in the dark, sleek uniform of the Royal Corps. Their masked faces were turned toward the road where Liam’s carriage was shrinking into the distance, the soft afternoon light casting long shadows behind them.

"That kid is really creepy. Or is it just me?" the first figure muttered, his tone carrying an irritated edge as he shifted his footing. He was a young man with a lean build, the kind who always found something to complain about.

"By creepy, you mean perceptive, right?" the woman beside him replied, voice laced with playful teasing. She shot him a side glance, the corners of her eyes crinkling behind her mask.

"Nope. I mean creepy," the man insisted. "He stood by his window every night just staring around like some lost owl. And I swear he could see me even when I was under an invisibility spell. The kid’s eyes kept brushing over my exact position. It was uncomfortable. I’m telling you."

"That’s because he probably could see you," said the third figure, crouched near the edge of the roof. He was larger, older, and carried himself with the quiet confidence of a seasoned veteran as he studied the fading carriage.

"Huh? What are you even saying, Vector?" the first man demanded.

"I agree with what Ymir said earlier," Vector replied calmly. "The kid has unusually sharp perception for someone his age."

"See?" Ymir chirped with a smirk that was practically visible through her mask. "Told you."

"Shut up," Jace grumbled, shooting her a glare. "And what makes you both think he’s perceptive enough to pinpoint elite Royal Corps members like us? The kid is just creepy, end of story."

"You seem to forget what his report said, Jace," Vector reminded him.

Jace scoffed loudly. "So what if he’s a dark mage? Is that supposed to mean something?"

"Actually... yes," Vector replied, unfazed. "Dark mages don’t operate like other affinity users. They’re practically walking cheat codes. And beyond that, Liam Hunter is not your average sixteen-year-old."

"Yep," Ymir chimed in eagerly. "Part of his report says he made the simulation exams glitch. And he forced himself not to die after being stabbed through the heart. Do you have any idea how insane that is? Nobody’s ever done it. Being able to tell the difference between real death and fake death inside the system is absurd. And the kid’s only a High-Tier Five-star."

Jace clicked his tongue, clearly irritated. "Man, screw that. None of that means he should be able to detect us."

"Maybe not ordinarily," Vector admitted. "But he has Mabel guarding him. There’s a good chance she trains with him. That alone would sharpen anyone’s senses to an extreme degree."

"Oh, Mabel..." Ymir sighed dreamily, pressing her gloved hands to her cheeks. "She’s so strong. And cool. And cute. I wish she was guarding me instead. I’d love that so much. The kid doesn’t appreciate how lucky he is."

Jace stared at her like she had grown a second head. "I finally understand why she tries so hard to stay away from you."

"Me? What are you talking about?" Ymir scoffed, waving him off. "Mabel adores me. She just hasn’t confessed yet. Give her time. She’ll open up eventually."

Vector let out a low chuckle as he rose from his crouch, brushing imaginary dust from his gloves. "We should get back to our posts. I’ve had enough of the two of you for today."

Without another word, the three shadows dispersed into the estate’s rooftops, leaving only the fading echo of their footsteps behind.

***

Back aboard the myst-infused locomotive bound for Veridn, Liam settled into one of the vacant seats of the empty train car—much like the quiet ride he’d taken when first traveling to Nystra. The soft hum of the train’s myst engine pulsed faintly through the floorboards, filling the otherwise still cabin with a low, rhythmic vibration.

’Well, that went well,’ he thought as he leaned back, arms resting loosely at his sides. ’Now that I’ve gotten this out of the way, I can focus on growing stronger without worrying about them anymore. Her Majesty’s Corps will handle the rest.’

He let his eyes drift shut for a moment, letting the tension from the past days settle. When he opened them again, he found Mabel standing in the aisle beside him, vigilant and stiff as always. The instant she realized he was looking at her, she flinched—barely, but enough for him to notice.

"Is something on your mind?" Liam asked, tone calm but steady.

"What?" Mabel muttered, caught off guard.

"You’ve been looking like you want to say something ever since we left the estate," he continued evenly. "So I’m asking—do you have something you want to say or ask? Because the way you keep staring makes things a bit... uncomfortable."

Mabel held his gaze for a lingering second, her posture tense, before she finally exhaled a slow, reluctant sigh. "Fine. There is something I want to know." Her voice steadied, becoming firmer. "Two nights ago, you told me that making a deal with Aesmirius was a necessary choice to save me, right?"

"Yes, I did," Liam replied without hesitation. "What about it?"

"I want to know... did you make that deal with Aesmirius intentionally because of me? Or am I being delusional and overthinking it?" Her eyes—sharp, focused, unwavering—locked onto his. "And don’t deflect. Try to be sincere with me."

Liam stared back, silent for a moment, studying the fierce clarity in her brown-hazel eyes. ’When the hell did she come to that conclusion?’ he thought. ’Tch. I should’ve picked my words more carefully... but whatever. I’ll deal with it now.’

He let out a quiet sigh, the kind that eased the tension in his shoulders, then spoke without changing expression. "Yes, I did." His tone remained even, but the weight behind the words was unmistakable.

Mabel’s eyes widened—only slightly, but enough to betray her surprise—as she absorbed the answer.

"And before you ask why," Liam added, lifting a hand just a little, "don’t. I don’t know." He paused, searching for a more precise explanation and deciding against it. "More like... I don’t know how to phrase it. And honestly, I just don’t know. So I’d rather you didn’t push for reasons."

Mabel watched him for a long, quiet moment before giving a single small nod. "Sure. No problem."

"Thank you," Liam said, turning his gaze toward the window, watching the blurred scenery rush past in streaks of green, brown, and silver.

Meanwhile, Mabel’s eyes lingered on him, her posture relaxing in the smallest of ways. A faint, hidden smile formed behind her mask. ’You really are something, Liam.’