A week had passed.
Lucius had spent the days quietly recovering, learning more about the Ardentis household from Adrian, Selene, and Irene. His strength was returning, though his body was still far weaker than his mind. He had also begun to notice something—the way the servants looked at him.
There was no contempt, no outright hostility. Just… indifference.
To them, he was insignificant.
And now, he would face the ones who had dictated his insignificance.
The Night Before
A soft knock echoed through the dimly lit room. Lucius glanced toward the door but did not immediately respond. The knock came again, more insistent this time.
"Enter."
The door opened, revealing Elise, one of the household maids. She bowed slightly before speaking, her tone measured and precise.
"Master Lucius, the Duke has arranged a formal family dinner tomorrow evening. All members of the Ardentis family will be present."
Lucius turned to her, his expression unreadable. "So they finally remember I exist?"
Elise hesitated before replying, her tone carefully neutral. "It is simply tradition, Master Lucius. Whenever the Duke calls for a formal gathering, all family members are required to attend."
Required. Not invited. Not welcomed. Required.
Lucius smirked faintly. "Understood."
Elise bowed again and quickly left the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
Tomorrow, he would face them.
The Grand Dining Hall
The hall was as magnificent as one would expect of the Ardentis lineage—high ceilings adorned with golden chandeliers, banners embroidered with the family crest, and a long table large enough to seat a kingdom's council.
Lucius stepped inside, his sharp eyes taking in the seating arrangement.
At the head of the table sat Duke Magnus Ardentis, the pillar of the family. His presence was like an iron blade—cold, unyielding, forged for power. Beside him sat Lady Seraphina, her pale golden hair carefully braided, her expression composed but distant.
To Magnus's right sat Cassius Ardentis, the eldest son and heir to the family name. His posture was perfect, his expression unreadable—a man molded for command.
To Magnus's left sat Julius Ardentis, the second son. Where Cassius exuded command, Julius carried a more dangerous air—sharp, observant, always calculating.
Further down, on the right, was Adrian. His relaxed demeanor contrasted with the others, but Lucius could tell he was just as aware of his surroundings.
Opposite Adrian sat Selene and Irene, their presence the only warmth at the table. They offered Lucius brief nods, the only acknowledgment he received.
And at the farthest end, at the very last seat, sat Lucius.
He was the last to sit.
No one had addressed him.
No one had looked at him.
It was as if he did not exist.
The dinner began.
Servants moved seamlessly, pouring wine, serving dishes prepared with meticulous care. Plates clinked against the polished wood as everyone dined with the grace befitting nobility.
Lucius remained silent, observing. This was not just a family meal—it was a battlefield.
Cassius spoke first, his voice carrying a commanding ease. "The Emperor has summoned us to the capital next month. It seems he wishes to review the strength of the noble houses."
Julius smirked. "As expected. The old man is always looking for ways to assert his control."
Duke Magnus nodded slightly. "We will prepare accordingly. Cassius, you will lead the demonstration."
"Of course, Father."
Lucius watched the exchange, understanding something. This family only valued power.
The talk of war, politics, and magic continued as if he were not there. Even his mother, who had always protected him, remained silent.
Lady Seraphina remained composed, occasionally responding with a soft word, but never directly to Lucius.
Even Adrian and the twins, who had shown him some acknowledgment before, seemed to understand their place in this hierarchy. Lucius was not included.
He was not ignored out of malice. He was ignored because he was insignificant.
He lifted his goblet, letting the crimson liquid swirl idly. This family only valued power.
And right now, he had none.
Not in their eyes.
Not yet.
The dinner continued, the weight of his absence in their presence pressing against him.
Lucius remained silent. He had no need to prove himself here.
Not yet.
But one day… they would look at him and see something they could no longer ignore.
One day, he would not be forgotten.