CHAPTER 106: A FAMILY REUNION AND A PULSE IN STONE

[Leif’s POV — Thorenvald Estate, Frojnholm—Outside]

The Thorenvald carriage rolled down the gravel path, chaos wrapped in gold trim.

Before it even stopped moving, the door flew open.

"BROTHERRRR!!!"

And then an enthusiasm launched itself through the air—straight into my stomach, again.

"Oof—Alina—!"

Too late. The wind left my lungs as my little sister clung to me like a very emotional, very sparkly koala.

"Brother! I missed you! I missed you soooo much! Do you even know how long it’s been?"

I wheezed, patting her back. "Roughly five months, sixteen letters, and two emotional breakdowns later—yes, I missed you too. I get it, Alina, but maybe next time don’t use me as a landing cushion?"

She pouted, still hanging off me like she intended to fuse into my ribcage. "But that’s how I show love!"

"I can feel the love," I groaned, "mostly in my spleen."

Zephyy, perched on my shoulder, decided this was the perfect time to flap his wings and draw attention to himself.

Alina gasped, eyes sparkling. "Zephyy!" She plucked the little dragon right off my shoulder and smothered him in kisses. "Did you miss me?"

Zephyy purred—and, in my head, his voice rang clear. "I missed you, Master’s sister. I missed you more than anything in the world."

"Traitor," I muttered under my breath.

Then I looked up—and there she was.

My mother.

Standing beside Father, trembling, clearly seconds away from detonating. Father had both hands on her shoulders, whispering desperately, "Control yourself. The Imperial family and Alvar’s mother are watching."

"I am controlling myself," she hissed, vibrating like a kettle about to whistle.

I sighed, already bracing for impact. "How are you, Mother?"

That was it. The last crack in the dam.

She made a strangled noise halfway between a sob and a war cry and tore herself free from Father’s grip, charging toward me like a small, determined hurricane.

"My son! My dear son!"

"Here we go again—"

And just like that, I was double-hugged—one sister, one mother—both clinging like my existence powered their oxygen supply.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Baron trying not to laugh, Nick politely pretending not to see, and Alvar standing there with a serene smile that said, This is your circus, your monkeys.

Father just sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I should’ve held her tighter," he muttered.

"I heard that!" Mother yelled without letting go.

"Of course you did," Father said under his breath. "You’ve got sonar when it comes to family drama."

Meanwhile, I was still trapped between two generations of affectionate suffocation. "Ladies," I wheezed. "I need air. Please. For the sake of the heir you worked so hard to produce."

Mother only squeezed tighter. "Never!"

She sniffled into my shoulder. "Let me have this moment, Leif! You never write enough!"

"I literally wrote it last week!"

"That’s not enough!"

Before I could argue further, I caught sight of Alvar’s mother—standing a few steps away, smiling with the serene patience of someone who’d just witnessed a storm from a safe distance.

"Greetings, Mother," I said.

Her smile deepened when our eyes met. "It’s been far too long, dear. I’m glad to see such a... spirited family reunion."

I exhaled, finally prying my sister off my ribs. "You could call it spirited. Or mildly fatal."

Alvar, ever the picture of composure beside her, chuckled softly. "You’ll get used to it, Mother. This happens every time."

She glanced at him fondly, laughter dancing in her eyes. "Oh, my dear, I’ve been used to it since you left for Frojnholm, my dear."

Oh... looks like Mom and Mother had been meeting quite frequently while I was here.

That explained a lot. No wonder they were both smiling like co-conspirators at a tea party. Behind us, a servant whispered, "My lord, the Imperial Crown Prince has arrived."

I blinked. "Oh. Wonderful timing."

Mother froze. Alina blinked. Both slowly turned toward the royal entourage approaching—and, like well-trained actresses, instantly released me and stood in perfect decorum.

Mother even coughed delicately. "Ahem. Yes. Composure."

Alina whispered, "You still smell nice, Zephyy. Who bathed you today?"

"Alina."

"Yes?"

"Not. Now."

Because right then, the royal carriage door opened.

And out stepped Sirella—pristine as a porcelain blade — followed by Crown Prince Arden. They both turned toward me. And, just like last time, Arden smiled way too brightly.

"Leif! How are you, my friend?"

Friend? when did we...?

His voice carried that golden warmth that made everyone feel like they were his favorite person in the world. It was also the exact tone he used right before.

"Crown Prince," I said with my most diplomatic smile, "I’m well, thank you. Still alive. Mostly sane."

He laughed lightly—too easily. "Good, good! I was worried about Frojnholm’s weather."

Then my gaze shifted to Sirella.

She looked stunning (Villainess), as always—sharp posture, cool expression, every word on her tongue probably laced with mild disdain. Her eyes scanned the estate, then me, and she said flatly,

"I see you’ve developed your territory quite well."

The tone was cold, precise... but slightly softer than last time. Like frost that almost considered melting.

"Thank you," I said, resisting the urge to add I worked hard while you glared at me in spirit. "We try our best. Productive chaos and all that."

Her lips twitched—not quite a smile, but maybe the ghost of one. "At least you’re consistent this time."

"Consistency is my only survival strategy," I replied smoothly.

Arden glanced between us, clearly amused. "Ah, I see some things never change," he said cheerfully before turning toward Alvar and his mother. "It’s wonderful to finally see the Regulfsson family here, Grand Duke. Frojnholm is... lively."

Translation: What in the nine heavens is this circus?

Alvar inclined his head with his usual calm grace. "Lively keeps the heart young, Your Highness," he said pleasantly—then his tone shifted, colder, sharper. "And since this is my fiancée’s territory, it is only natural for us to be here... as family."

The air went still.

Even the birds seemed to pause mid-song.

Crown Prince Arden’s smile flickered for the briefest moment—then returned, brighter than ever. "Of course," he said lightly, though the edges of his tone carried something unreadable. "Family is... everything."

Sirella’s gaze slid to Alvar, her expression smooth but her knuckles tightening ever so slightly around her gloves.

Ah, wonderful. Emotional warfare before lunch. Just what I needed.

I smiled with all the warmth of a freshly lit fireplace that was about to burn down the room. "Baron," I said sweetly, "please show Their Highnesses to their rooms."

Baron bowed deeply, clearly grateful for the excuse to escape the atmosphere. "Right away, my lord."

And just like that, the Royal Chaos was politely escorted to the opposite building. I exhaled quietly. One crisis defused. For now.

Or so I thought.

"Brother..." Alina’s soft voice tugged at my sleeve.

I turned and looked down at her, still half-distracted. "Yes, Alina?"

She was staring—no, pointing—at my chest. Her eyes were wide, reflecting the faint red gleam pulsing there.

"Why,"

she whispered, "is your marble... glowing? It looks like it’s beating."

"Huh?"

I looked down.

The marble—the strange red gem the old woman had given me in my dreams months ago—was glowing faintly beneath my tunic. Each pulse echoed like a heartbeat, slow and rhythmic.

A cold chill crawled up my spine.

That shouldn’t be happening.

"When did it start glowing?" I asked, my voice quieter than I meant it to be.

Alina tilted her head innocently. "Just now. The moment Crown Prince Arden and Princess Sirella stepped out of the carriage... it started."

The moment they arrived.

My fingers brushed against the marble, and it was warm—too warm, like something alive.

The old woman’s voice echoed in the back of my mind. "This marble will help you chain the devil, my child. And I hope you don’t suffer the same fate as him."

Chain the Devil.

My heart skipped a beat.

I looked up just as Arden and Sirella disappeared into the guest building—two radiant figures framed by sunlight. Yet, the longer I watched them walk away, the heavier the air felt.

Why was it glowing when they arrived?

Zephyy’s twitched restlessly on ALina’s shoulder. His voice murmured in my mind, low and uncertain.

"Master... I smell it."

"Smell what?" I whispered.

He looked toward the royal carriage, eyes narrowing. "An energy... old and vile. Like smoke trapped beneath silk. Something... ominous."

My fingers tightened around the marble, feeling it pulse harder, faster, almost as if it was answering him. My smile froze on my lips as I glanced toward the guest building once more.

Because if Zephyy was right... Then the Devil’s presence wasn’t somewhere far away.

It had just walked through my front gates—wearing a royal crest.

The air felt heavier suddenly, pressing against my lungs. Even the sunlight seemed dimmer, as though the day itself was holding its breath.

And then—movement.

Up on the far balcony, someone stood behind the half-drawn curtains.

The Second Prince.

Our eyes met for the briefest instant. His face was pale, his hands gripping the railing like it was the only thing keeping him upright. And in his eyes, there wasn’t just surprise.

It was fear.

Raw, unguarded fear.

The kind you only see in someone who’s come face-to-face with a nightmare once before... and just realized it’s found them again.

The marble pulsed once more—hard enough to sting my palm. Somewhere deep inside it, I swore I heard a heartbeat that wasn’t mine.