Chapter 10: The Duke Finally Looks at M
The door to my father’s office creaked open, and I stepped inside for the first time.
The room exuded a quiet, commanding luxury. Expensive bookshelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, each shelf meticulously arranged with rows of leather‑bound tomes whose spines gleamed under the soft golden glow of the chandelier. Not a single speck of dust marred their order. In the centre of the room, a polished desk commanded attention, its surface immaculate save for a few neatly arranged documents.
To its sides, two plush sofas faced each other, upholstered in deep blue silk that mirrored the calm dignity of the space. Between them rested a low table of carved glass, reflecting the subtle light like still water.
Every detail spoke of authority and restraint, a room designed for decisions that would ripple through the estate and beyond.
Behind the desk sat my father, Duke Vortex. His blue hair caught the light like a frozen river, his equally blue eyes sharp and unyielding. A strict, stern expression carved his face into an image of silent judgement. Even in stillness, he radiated the weight of command, a man to whom the world bowed without question.
But my gaze was drawn next to the figure seated opposite him. A man with blonde hair and steady brown eyes watched me with an unreadable expression. His posture was relaxed yet dignified, like someone who belonged effortlessly in the presence of power.
For a heartbeat, the three of us lingered in silence, the air thick with expectation and the measured cadence of authority that filled the Duke’s office.
I lowered myself into a rare, respectful bow, my voice steady despite the tension coiling in my chest.
"Greetings, Father. I heard you asked for me."
The weight of my words lingered in the air, absorbed by the quiet authority of the office. My father’s piercing blue eyes observed me from across the polished desk, his expression unreadable, the silence stretching for just a heartbeat longer than comfort allowed.
Before he could return my greeting, a sudden pressure touched my shoulder, a firm, grounding weight that sent a subtle jolt through me. Instinctively, I straightened, and in that instant, realization struck like lightning.
The blonde man who had been seated opposite my father only a moment ago was now standing directly before me. I hadn’t seen him move. Not a step, not a whisper of motion. One breath he had been across the room, and the next he was here, close enough for me to feel the gentle heat radiating from his presence.
My heart skipped, panic flickering in its cage, but I forced my face to remain neutral. My sky‑blue eyes met his calm brown gaze, and I willed my expression into the same controlled serenity I had worn for years, betraying nothing of the sudden tension coiled beneath my skin.
The room seemed to shrink under the quiet weight of the moment, the air thick with unspoken tests and expectations.
The man removed his hand from my shoulder and stepped back with a calm, measured grace. His brown eyes remained steady as he turned toward my father, the Duke, and spoke with quiet authority.
"I have checked everything. There is nothing wrong with his body."
The words settled in the room like a soft verdict, and for a moment, I simply blinked in confusion. I hadn’t felt anything, no warmth, no pulse of magic, no sensation that he had done anything at all. Yet he spoke with such certainty that even my father’s stern gaze softened by a fraction.
The confusion must have shown on my face, because the blond man turned back to me and smiled faintly, a knowing curve of his lips that carried an air of gentle amusement.
"Do not be confused," he said, his voice calm and even. "I am not like the healer you saw yesterday. My methods leave no trace for the patient to feel. I am, in fact, the best healer in this kingdom. I am only here because you had not woken after a week, and your father personally requested my aid."
His words carried no boastfulness, only a matter-of-fact weight that made my chest tighten. My father’s cold blue eyes flicked toward me, his silent presence reinforcing the truth: this man had been summoned not out of convenience, but necessity. My unconsciousness had shaken the household enough to warrant the kingdom’s finest healer.
I nodded slowly, "I... see," I murmured, though the unease lingered. His power was beyond anything I had ever witnessed, subtle yet absolute, like a hand that could cradle life itself without ever being seen.
The blond man’s smile deepened, quiet and reassuring, before he turned back and sat on the same seat he had left.
"I’m glad to hear you are fine, Alash," my father said, his voice firm but carrying a note of relief. "But we are yet to uncover why you felt unconscious in the first place. Come, take a seat."
I silently moved forward, lowering myself into the chair beside the blonde man. His steady brown eyes observed me with an expression I couldn’t quite read, and the faint scent of polished wood and parchment filled the air around us.
The room felt heavier now, as if my father’s words had stitched the air with unspoken questions, and the presence of the man beside me only added to the weight pressing on my chest.
The Duke’s office fell silent as my father reached into the drawer of his polished desk and produced a small stone slate, its surface etched with faint runes that shimmered in the light. He set it gently upon the low table between us, his sharp blue gaze pinning me in place.
"Hold this," he said, his voice firm but calm. "And send your mana into it."
Without question, I obeyed. My slender fingers curled around the cool, weighty surface of the stone, and I began to focus inward. My core pulsed faintly, a muted rhythm deep within my chest, and I coaxed the mana to flow toward my hands.
But before I could even release it with intent, the stone slate came alive.
A subtle vibration thrummed through my fingertips, followed by a sudden pull, as if the slate itself had grown thirsty. It siphoned my mana greedily, drawing the energy straight from my core with a will of its own. I stiffened slightly, but the sensation was not painful, merely firm, insistent, and unyielding.
Light began to bloom across the stone’s surface.
Runes, once faint and inert, flared to life in threads of silver and gold. They wove together in intricate patterns, glowing brighter as they consumed the flow of mana. I watched, transfixed, as the energy coalesced into words that etched themselves upon the slate, each letter forming with a deliberate stroke as though carved by invisible hands.
Core: F – Grey
Potential: SSS
Title: Aegis Healer
This title encompasses a man who excels in both restorative arts and protective barriers, symbolizing not only his skill in mending wounds but also his mastery of shielding allies from harm. It implies a figure of strength, safety, and unwavering support in any magical conflict.
Special Constitution: Stamina, Intelligence, Willpower
Strength: 15
Agility: 23
Stamina: 84
Perception: 18
Magic: 11
Intelligence: 103
Willpower: 87
Healing: Lv 1
Barrier: Lv 1
The last line shimmered longer than the rest before fading into clarity. My father leaned forward slightly, his hands clasped before him as his eyes drank in the words. A subtle shift passed over his expression, one I couldn’t quite read, a flicker of pride, relief, and perhaps silent awe.
Meanwhile, the blond healer beside me simply inclined his head, his calm brown eyes glinting with quiet approval.
The room was still, save for the faint hum of magic slowly receding from the stone, and the soft thud of my own heart in my chest.