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Chapter 13
The bright, expectant gazes of all three family members were fixed squarely on him. Alexis paused mid-bite with his buttered bread and lifted an eyebrow.
“Al—lex.”
Marisa called to him as she took a sip of sparkling water.
“Yes, Mother?”
The young man took a casual bite of his bread and tilted his head lazily.
Judging only by how comfortably he sat in his chair, no one would have guessed that he had finally returned home after so long.
As if he had never been absent at all, he blended perfectly into the family tableau they created.
There wasn’t the slightest sense of discord.
When Marisa didn’t add anything further, Alexis didn’t rush her. Instead, he calmly continued eating his bread.
The habit of carefully spreading butter all the way to the edges with a butter knife remained unchanged.
Armand, Marisa, and Cecilia waited at least until he finished that slice of bread.
But even after he’d eaten it all, that infuriating mouth of his still didn’t open.
No—well.
Fine. They could somehow understand him returning without a word.
But ordinarily, shouldn’t he at least say how he’d been, whether things were hard, or even something as simple as Did you eat properly?
“The bread is good. It seems the bakers of Pontref still do fine work.”
The three who had been silently watching him were left momentarily speechless. Staring at the prodigal son who had finally returned, each of them let out a sigh.
I wasn’t this bad. Who did he take after…
Seven years, my son…
Bread is important, yes, important, but still…
Even as their looks grew sharper by the second, Alexis’s expression did not change.
At this point, it had to be deliberate—his silence.
Armand and Marisa sighed and resigned themselves to it, while Cecilia quietly passed him the green pepper.
“Thank you, Sister.”
As if nothing had changed from old habits, the young man generously sprinkled pepper over his scrambled eggs and began eating with obvious enjoyment.
That, more than anything, was what made it so astonishing—and so irritating—how exactly the same he was.
About ten minutes passed.
Cecilia finally gave up on the hope that Alec would open a topic himself and instead took it upon herself to guide the breakfast conversation.
The protagonist of this long-awaited homecoming merely watched her quietly and listened.
Under that endless violet gaze, Cecilia awkwardly fidgeted with the ends of her hair.
The giggling child who used to swing her legs was nowhere to be found; in her place sat a man leaning back in his chair, wearing an ambiguous smile.
“Alex.”
When she softly called his name, a faint smile—barely there—brushed across his lips.
Forgetting that she herself had called out first, she thoroughly scanned her younger brother’s face.
Deep, cool eyes. A refined nose carrying a trace of arrogance. Thick, long eyelashes.
That delicate yet dazzling beauty artists would covet was still there.
What had changed was—
The sharp jawline revealed by the loss of baby fat. A mature composure replacing youthful innocence.
With his broadened shoulders and taller stature, the once fresh, boyish air had transformed into something solid and strong.
“Ah… it’s nothing. Sorry.”
She trailed off without meaning to and lowered her gaze. Her eyes landed on their hands, placed close enough to almost touch.
Cecilia quietly measured the distance between herself and her brother.
When the attendant carefully approached and handed a letter to the Empress, she had just picked up her second fig topped with prosciutto.
Cecilia, who had been talking about a poetry collection she’d read the day before, closed her mouth, and Marisa set the fig down and dabbed her lips with a napkin.
Unless it was urgent, no one would interrupt the imperial family’s breakfast.
Especially not when the prince had only just returned home.
The Empress’s hands moved restlessly as she opened the letter. The quick-witted attendant had already withdrawn.
“Marisa?”
At her husband’s quiet call, Marisa tilted her head, puzzled.
“The Duchess of Lenian is urgently requesting to see me.”
“Then you should go.”
Alexis offered smoothly, and Marisa cast a long look at her son, unsure whether he was being cold or considerate.
“I’m fine. She is your godmother, after all.”
“…Yes. Thank you for remembering.”
It seemed to be the latter.
Still, with a son who had returned after seven years sitting right before her, she hesitated to leave so easily.
Seeing her hesitation, Alexis nodded gently.
“I have to go to Rivero soon anyway. Given the Duchess’s age, you should pay her a visit as well, Mother.”
“To the River Academy? Ah, for the mana measurement?”
“Yes. I need to do a temporary one today.”
“…You’ll pass, won’t you?”
“Of course.”
Only then did Marisa finally steel herself. She set down her napkin and stood.
“Alright then. Let’s be sure to have tea together this week!”
“Yes.”
She bent down and gave her son a brief kiss on the cheek, then turned to her daughter.
Worry was plain in her blinking golden eyes.
“Mother, should I come with you?”
“It’s fine, it’s fine.”
Making her refusal sound as natural as possible, Marisa reached out and lightly smoothed Cecilia’s thick hair.
“Cecil, remember we’re having tea together soon too. And if you’re free today, could you help your mother with a bit of work?”
“Yes, I will.”
“Thank you, as always.”
Marisa bent again and kissed her daughter’s cheek, then gave her husband—who had patiently waited his turn—a brief kiss before finally leaving the conservatory.
Once her footsteps faded, neither fast nor slow, only three dark-haired figures remained.
Cecilia looked toward the now-empty chair.
Mother asked me to help with work.
She’d need to inform the imperial spokesperson, Françoise, of Alex’s return, discuss the start of his social activities…
And attend the afternoon meeting about the library expansion.
“By the way, Alex, if you go to Rivero, you might see Blanche. She’s staying there this summer.”
At Cecilia’s sudden remark, Alexis blinked.
“Ah, the white—”
“Alex!”
“…A slip of the tongue.”
“The Marquis of Houston’s daughter?” Armand cut in quickly, sensing danger.
Cecilia nodded at her father while shooting Alexis a warning look.
“Yes, Father.”
“Has the young lady found a stabilization method? Last I heard—three months ago—she hadn’t.”
“…Not yet.”
“She must be getting anxious.”
“I imagine so.”
After coming of age, some mages experienced explosive increases in mana and madness, struggling to control them.
They could only hope Blanche wasn’t one of those cases.
“Blanche is doing her best to find one as soon as possible.”
Cecilia replied slowly, then stared straight at the young man across from her.
Armand did the same. His violet eyes watched his long-absent son with an intensity that was almost oppressive.
Despite the two piercing gazes, Alexis Lucien remained perfectly calm.
His long fingers traced the rim of his glass.
Cecilia watched without missing a thing—the clear water flowing past his red lips, the way his throat bobbed rhythmically in the light.
“Alex.”
Perhaps because he drank so deliciously, her voice cracked. Cecilia lifted her own glass to wet her throat.
“Yes?”
“If you ever need help, just tell me.”
“Help?”
The question, tinged with innocent puzzlement, made her lips part.
When she finally voiced her answer, strangely, she was no longer looking at him.
Somehow, she felt she couldn’t meet his eyes.
“I mean… if you want to meet someone nice. Or if you’re wondering whether someone is a good person. Or if you want to get closer to someone.”
“……”
“Thanks to Rosénets, I’m acquainted with nearly every young lady of Lucien. Of course I’d know whoever you’re curious about.”
“How thoughtful. I’m touched.”
“Sorry, kids. I think I should head out now.”
At that moment, Armand loudly and flamboyantly announced his departure.
It looked like a hasty retreat, but he didn’t seem to care.
In sibling matters, parents were best off remaining perfectly neutral—or staying out entirely.
It seemed Armand had chosen the latter.
Stuffing two pieces of bread into his mouth at once and abandoning all pretense of manners, he stood, looked between the two of them as if bursting with things to say, then slowly backed away.
“Where are you going, Father?”
Alexis asked calmly—too calmly, to the point it felt almost threatening.
The son seated beside his suddenly malfunctioning father also rose slowly.
Cecilia only lifted her gaze, watching as Alexis dabbed his lips with a napkin.
“Then, Sister. I’ll be looking forward to it.”
“……”
“And may you have a radiant day today as well.”
“Yes. You too. Father, have a good day.”
“Thank you, Cecil.”
Armand greeted her cheek-to-cheek, but Alexis merely kissed the back of her hand, as if maintaining a prescribed distance.
It was impeccably polite.
The problem was that it felt like how one treated a stranger, not family.
To be honest—it was a relief.
She didn’t want him to kiss her cheek like he had when they were children.
When the nearly identical backs of father and son disappeared completely from view, Cecilia leaned back against her chair and tipped her head back.
The summer breeze brushing her exposed nape felt unusually cold.
“…That was sarcasm, wasn’t it?”
Would there be any other reason for someone that perceptive to phrase it as a question? He must have meant to mock her.
It wasn’t quite the feeling of How ridiculous, a stranger arranging a match…
Cecilia toyed with the ends of her hair, trying to organize her confusion.
She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them.
Her brightened vision took in the ornate ceiling of the conservatory once more, and at the center of the towering glass dome—the crest of Lucien.
The emblem of the ruling family of the most prosperous nation on the continent.
Cecilia let go of the strand of hair she’d been fidgeting with.
You know, Alex. Even if you treat me like a stranger now…
For the moment, I still have black hair, and I’m still inside the conservatory.
…Still.
