By raising Pluto like her own son, Lady Amane gave him more than shelter—
she gave him a reason to live.
A family to care for.
A place to belong.
He wasn't her blood,
but it never mattered.
Time passed.
Day by day.
Month by month.
Year after year.
The burning battlefields where blood once screamed
had long since quieted beneath a soft blanket of snow.
Flowers, bold and unbothered, had returned to the castle walls.
Lady Amane sat by the window, watching the world soften again.
"Don't you have training with Master Bruno today?" she asked gently.
"Yes, Mother. Master returns this afternoon from his duties," Pluto replied.
"—I DON'T WANNA!!!"
Lunet's voice burst from behind the wall, followed by the unmistakable crash of a wooden cup hitting the floor.
Little Lunet never cared for battle training.
But as a VENGIN descendant, it was her duty to grow strong—whether she liked it or not.
"I'm just fourteen! Let me live before you turn me into a soldier!"
"Are you coming to watch, Mother?" Pluto asked.
He was not unaware of his own parents' tragedy.
But Lady Amane's love had never let that truth make him feel like an outsider. Not even once.
"I'm so, so sorry, kids," she said with a smile full of apology. "My wheelchair is being repaired today."
Her smile faltered, just for a moment.
"Oh God..., I really wish I could walk..."
Amane had been unable to walk since birth.
And through all her years, she had never stopped praying for that miracle.
Not for herself—
but so she could walk beside the people she loved.
The air that afternoon was cold and soft,
just enough sunlight slipping through scattered clouds
to illuminate every quiet corner of the castle grounds.
Pluto and Lunet stood side by side near the front gate.
The wind tugged gently at their clothes and hair,
and for a moment, it felt like the world was holding its breath.
"Hey, Pluto," Lunet called, hugging her arms to herself.
"Yes?" he replied without looking.
She narrowed her eyes, watching a flock of birds pass overhead before turning to him again.
"When do you think Master's going back to his work?"
He shrugged slowly. "Probably after a month or so."
She scoffed. "How would you know? You haven't talked to him since the last time he came back. And I know that—because you were with me the whole time."
"I said probably," Pluto replied, calm as ever. "Just a guess. He usually leaves again after a few weeks."
"You sound so sure of everything," she muttered. "Tch. As if you're his little assistant or something."
"He tells me things sometimes," Pluto said. "But not always."
Lunet rolled her eyes and kicked a small pebble off the path. "Of course he does."
Before Pluto could answer, the sound of wheels grinding over gravel caught their attention.
A carriage rolled up to the gate—dark wood, gold-trimmed, pulled by two horses in steel-plated harnesses.
The door swung open before the driver could even climb down.
A tall, thin man stepped out. His long blond hair swayed in the wind, and his dark coat billowed behind him like a cape.
Two bodyguards followed, one carrying an enormous wooden box that looked ready to burst.
"Ugh," Lunet whispered, folding her arms tighter. "Speak of the devil."
The man walked with elegance—too much elegance, in Lunet's opinion—and came straight toward them.
"After fixing his sleeves, of course," she grumbled.
Master Bruno reached them with a wide grin. Without asking, he placed a hand on each of their heads, ruffling their hair like they were still toddlers.
"Oh my, little warriors!" he exclaimed in his soft, cheerful voice. "Look at you two! I was only gone two weeks, and you've already outgrown me! So tall! So serious! It makes me feel old, you know?"
Pluto remained still, giving a small nod of acknowledgment.
He carried a calm far beyond his fourteen years.
Lunet, however, grabbed Bruno's wrist and shoved it off.
"You've been gone," she snapped, "not dead."
"Ouch," Bruno winced dramatically. "I deserved that, huh?"
"You think?"
He chuckled, brushing invisible dust from his coat. "Well, I brought gifts this time. And sweets. Even that weird book on bow techniques you asked for months ago."
She faltered—just slightly.
"Don't think a book's gonna make me forgive you," she muttered, eyeing the wooden box.
"Forgiveness is earned, not bribed," Pluto added.
Bruno smiled. "Wise as ever. No wonder Lady Amane trusts you more than me."
As the guards began unloading the box, Bruno turned toward the castle with a sigh.
"It's good to be home."
Pluto watched him go, expression unreadable.
Lunet kept her eyes on the box.
"...Did he actually remember the book?"
"I'm not sure," Pluto said. "But he did remember the sweets."
"...Fine. I'll check. But I'm still mad."
"You always are."
She smacked his arm without looking.
And just like that, the quiet afternoon continued,
the wind stirring the flags on the castle walls—
like whispers returning to a home they hadn't seen in years.
She sat beneath the pine tree, quietly chanting her afternoon prayers,
eyes following a group of birds weaving through the pale sky.
Then—footsteps.
She didn't turn.
She already knew who it was.
Bruno.
He was a close relative of Lord Vardon Vengin and had once served directly under him.
In his youth, Bruno was trained by Vardon himself.
And after the lord's death, he never turned his back on Castle Vengin.
He stayed behind—quietly. Faithfully.
Now, as always, Bruno stood silently in the doorway, waiting.
He never entered without permission—not even after all these years.
When the woman inside gave a soft nod, he stepped forward.
"I have returned from work, my lady," Bruno said, bowing slightly. "May I ask how your health has been?"
There was no cheer in his voice today—no friendly tone.
Only calm formality. Pure loyalty. Deep respect.
She looked up from her chair by the fire, her gaze soft.
"Happy to see you again," she said with a faint smile. "My health has improved these past few days… far better than before."
Bruno's smile was subtle, almost invisible—but it was there.
"And your training?" she asked.
"Just after our talk."
"Did you meet them?" she folded her hands. "Did Lunet behave? Don't hesitate to report if she gave you trouble."
Bruno chuckled quietly.
"You know her better than I do," he said at last. "She's as sweet and angry as always."
The woman gave a tired sigh, though her eyes shimmered with something unspoken.
Bruno offered a silent smile—peaceful, unbothered, like someone used to both chaos and calm.
"Have you heard?" Her voice was faint, almost crumbling—but Bruno understood.
"Yes, my lady. We've already sent scouts. It's just another HOUND attack. You have no reason to worry."
"May God bless those villagers," she whispered.