The rest of the day passed without any major events, yet Damon found no real rest in it, his thoughts repeatedly returning to what had happened with Cecelia, the memory lingering in his mind no matter how much he tried to set it aside.

Even as Sahira treated his wounds and later prepared dinner for him, he remained quiet, distracted, his focus drifting back to that strange, colorless world and the unfamiliar yet familiar voice that had called out to him.

As night settled and the manor grew silent, Damon finished his meal without much conversation and retired to his room, the weight of both physical exhaustion and restless thoughts finally catching up to him. Lying on his bed, he let out a quiet breath, his mind still unsettled, before fatigue eventually overtook him.

And soon after—

He fell asleep.

***

Morning settled gently over the Valecrest Manor, bringing with it a quiet rhythm as maids and attendants moved through the halls with practiced efficiency, their footsteps soft against the polished floors, their voices kept low as the estate gradually came to life.

Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting a pale glow across the grand dining hall where Damon sat alone at the long table, eating his breakfast in silence while Sahira stood beside him, attentive yet reserved as always.

For a while, there was nothing but the faint clink of utensils.

Then Damon spoke.

"Where are Saffron and Cecelia?"

The question seemed simple, yet Sahira visibly hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly as she struggled to respond.

"T-that... y-young master—"

Damon’s gaze lifted toward her, calm and unreadable, his tone steady as he interrupted.

"What is it... is it something you cannot tell me?"

Sahira shook her head quickly, her voice wavering as she tried again.

"N-no... i-it’s just... master has—"

Damon did not look away from her, his expression remaining completely neutral, yet behind that stillness, a quiet thought passed through his mind.

...Let’s see where your loyalty lies.

"I want to know where my siblings are," he repeated, this time with a subtle firmness that left little room for avoidance.

Sahira’s eyes flickered around the room instinctively, as though ensuring no one else was within earshot, before she leaned slightly closer, her voice dropping into a cautious whisper.

"T-they have gone to the Noble Preparatory Hall..."

Damon’s brows drew together faintly.

"The Noble Preparatory Hall...?"

Sahira nodded, gathering her explanation carefully.

"I-it’s a place where the children of nobles learn their basics... etiquette, foundational knowledge, early training... a-all the counts, marquises, viscounts, and other nobles under the Valecrest territory send their children there," she said, her voice growing steadier as she continued. "Y-you must have gone there as well..."

Damon paused for a moment before replying simply,

"I don’t remember."

He stood up from the table without another word, his chair sliding back softly as he turned and began walking toward the exit, his steps calm yet purposeful. Sahira remained where she was, watching him go, uncertain whether to speak further.

Just as he reached the doorway, Damon stopped.

He turned his head slightly, looking back at her over his shoulder as he said in an even tone,

"If anyone questions you... just say I forced you to tell me."

There was no hesitation in his voice.

No room for argument.

Sahira did not respond, her gaze lingering on his back as he turned again and continued forward, leaving the dining hall behind as he stepped out of the manor.

Damon made his way out of the manor and toward the grand gates of the Valecrest estate, his steps steady and unhurried as the towering structure loomed behind him. As he approached, one of the gatekeepers straightened immediately, recognizing him, and bowed deeply in respect.

"Guide me to the Noble Preparatory Hall," Damon said, his tone calm, carrying neither urgency nor hesitation.

The gatekeeper inclined his head at once and stepped forward to lead the way, moving ahead with practiced familiarity as Damon followed without question. After a short distance, the guard glanced back slightly and spoke with careful politeness.

"Would you like to take a carriage, young master?"

Damon paused for a brief moment before shaking his head lightly.

"If it is not too far, we will go on foot."

The guard nodded without objection, adjusting his pace accordingly as the two of them proceeded through the main territory of the Valecrest Duchy.

The difference between the manor grounds and the territory beyond became evident almost immediately, as the surroundings opened into a vibrant and flourishing district filled with life and movement.

Wide stone-paved streets stretched ahead, lined with well-constructed buildings that spoke of both wealth and stability, their facades clean and maintained with evident care. Merchants stood outside their shops, displaying goods ranging from finely crafted weapons to intricate fabrics and ornaments, their voices rising in practiced calls to passing customers.

Stalls filled the open areas, their colorful arrangements drawing attention, while nobles and commoners alike moved through the streets, their presence coexisting in a way that reflected a well-managed domain rather than a fractured one.

Children could be seen running between the crowd, their laughter weaving through the noise, while attendants followed closely behind, and traders exchanged words with a familiarity that suggested long-standing trust.

Even the guards stationed at various points stood alert yet composed, their presence firm but not oppressive, maintaining order without disrupting the natural flow of the territory.

Damon observed all of it in silence.

...At least Duke Valecrest manages his territory well.

The thought came without praise, without criticism, simply as an acknowledgment of fact.

As they continued walking, the outside world gradually faded from his awareness, the sights and sounds blurring at the edges as his mind drifted inward once more, returning to the one thing that had refused to leave him since the previous day.

Cecelia.

What was that...?

His brows furrowed slightly as the memory resurfaced again, that strange shift in reality, the loss of color, the unfamiliar yet deeply rooted sense of belonging that had accompanied it.

Was it a resonance...?

The possibility lingered.

Or just... my imagination?

He exhaled quietly.

No...

Instead of thinking about it endlessly...

His gaze steadied.

...it is better to find the answer directly.

I should spend time with her.

Before he could delve further into that line of thought, the guard’s voice broke through his focus.

"We are here, young master."

Damon’s steps slowed as he came to a stop, his attention returning fully to the present as he lifted his gaze—

And looked up.

The structure that rose before Damon carried a quiet grandeur of its own, distinct from the imposing authority of the Valecrest Manor yet no less refined, as the Noble Preparatory Hall spread across a wide expanse of land, its buildings arranged with thoughtful precision around open courtyards, gardens, and training grounds.

Elegant stone pathways wove through manicured lawns and small parks, where trimmed hedges and flowering trees softened the atmosphere, while playgrounds and practice areas echoed with the distant sounds of youthful energy.

Just as Damon stepped toward the entrance, one of the stationed guards moved forward, raising a hand to halt him out of habit, though the moment he truly looked at Damon, uncertainty flickered across his face. Before he could say anything, the gatekeeper who had accompanied Damon stepped in firmly.

"Let him pass—it is young master Damon."

The guard hesitated only for a second longer before stepping aside, bowing slightly as he cleared the way, and Damon entered without acknowledging the exchange, his gaze already moving across the grounds.

Children filled the space.

Not with order, but with life.

Clusters of them gathered beneath trees and along pathways, their voices rising in low conspiratorial tones as they shared what, to them, felt like matters of great importance.

"I am telling you, my father said the neighboring viscount is hiding something important..."

"No, no, that is nothing—my brother said there is going to be a huge announcement in the capital soon..."

"You both are wrong, I heard the knights are preparing for something big..."

Elsewhere, small groups had formed more deliberately, their stances mirroring the hierarchies they had seen in the adult world, some already claiming influence in their own childish ways.

"If you want to be in our group, you have to listen to me... my family has more authority here."

"Hmph, who cares? My uncle serves directly under a marquis..."

Others played, ran, argued, laughed, and boasted, each carrying fragments of the world they would one day inherit, yet still untouched by its full weight.

Damon observed all of it quietly as he walked deeper into the grounds, his expression unreadable as a faint shake of his head followed, not out of dismissal, but recognition.

Children absorb more at this age..and their parents—-forget it.

He continued forward, his steps steady as his gaze scanned the area, searching, until—

He stopped.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

Cecelia.

She lay on the ground.

Her small form still, her hands braced weakly as though she had just fallen, her white hair slightly disheveled against the grass. Standing before her were a few girls, their expressions far from concerned, their gazes directed at her with a clear trace of disdain that did not bother to hide itself.

For a brief moment, Damon simply looked at the scene.

Then his brows furrowed.

His voice cut through the space, calm yet carrying enough weight to draw attention instantly.

"What’s happening here?"