Rico walked slowly back to the room Zaya had shown him after dinner. The meal had been more than food — it had been an experience. Silver dishes, crystal glasses, and golden cutlery that caught the candlelight like tiny stars. The scent of roasted meat and herbs still clung to his skin, rich and heavy, as if the evening refused to let him go. He had never seen so much food in one place. Every bite shimmered like something sacred. Yet, when the Eliron urged him to eat, his throat had locked. He could barely swallow a few mouthfuls before he set the fork down. He was overwhelmed. Every time he lifted his eyes, someone was watching him — smiling politely, speaking softly, calling him young master as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Their eyes were kind, but unfamiliar. The words, heavy. He had nodded, smiled back, tried to look composed. But inside, he was trembling. When dinner ended, Eliron’s words still echoed in his mind — He was the lost heir of the West dy

Rico followed quietly behind Eliron, his mind swirling with thoughts about what might lie ahead. His chest felt tight, a flutter of anticipation mingling with nerves. The house felt different from the outside—quieter, older, as if the walls themselves held centuries of secrets.“Where are you taking me?” he asked, voice barely steady, betraying the unease he tried to hide.“Patience, Young Master,” Eliron said softly, calm and measured. “The truth lies ahead.”Rico’s footsteps quickened, impatience sharpening the ache in his chest. The hallway stretched before him, bright and endless, lined with portraits of stern ancestors and proud smiles. Their eyes seemed to follow him, whispering secrets he wasn’t yet ready to hear.A knot twisted in his stomach. What could be so important that Eliron had brought me here?At the end of the hall stood a single door, tall, carved with intricate patterns of vines and wolves. Eliron stopped. Rico’s gaze lingered on it, his heart hammering like a fran