They crossed the Gate and arrived in Euclid.

The cold reached them almost immediately.

Snow was falling, as it always seemed to do in Euclid, or in any territory touched by House Morgain. The air was pale and crisp, carrying the smell of stone, pine, smoke, and distant metalwork from the city beyond.

In front of them stood Trafalgar’s mansion.

It had once belonged to Mordrek, but now the place was his. A lordly mansion with large gates, broad gardens spread before the entrance, and paths kept clear of snow by workers moving quietly under thick coats. Tall windows reflected the weak winter light, and banners of House Morgain hung from the outer walls. New mithril plates reinforced parts of the doors and sections of the stonework, catching faint silver glimmers beneath the snowfall.

Silas stared at it with his mouth slightly open.

Cynthia did not hide her reaction either.

She had never been to Euclid, and seeing the place in person made it harder to treat Trafalgar as only the boy from the academy, the one who gave dry answers, made trouble without seeming to try, and somehow ended up in the middle of every serious thing around them.

This was not just a house.

Trafalgar noticed Cynthia shivering beside him.

She had dressed the way she usually did, fine for Velkaris and the academy, but not for Euclid’s snow. He lifted one hand, and mana gathered lightly over his palm.

The [Winter Jacket] appeared in his hands.

It was a black-and-navy coat, uncommon-ranked, falling just above the knees when worn by him, sleek enough that it looked almost out of place against Euclid’s harsh winter.

He offered it to her.

"Here. Put it on. I guess you weren’t expecting such a drastic change."

Cynthia blinked, surprised.

She accepted it after a short hesitation and slipped it over her shoulders. The jacket was clearly too large for her, the sleeves nearly swallowing her hands and the collar rising high enough that she could sink half her face into it if she wanted.

The warmth reached her at once.

"Thank you, Trafalgar," she said, voice softer than usual.

"It’s nothing."

Silas was still staring at the mansion.

"I’m going to live here from now on?"

Arthur answered him.

"That is right, Silas. I hope you like your new home." He placed one hand lightly against the boy’s shoulder. "I live here as well, although the residence belongs to Young Master Trafalgar. This city is also under his management."

Silas turned toward Trafalgar with widened eyes.

The information seemed to rearrange the idea of him completely.

"Big brother owns a city?"

Trafalgar gave him a flat look. "Don’t say it like that. It makes me sound worse."

Cynthia pressed her lips together, almost smiling.

Arthur, wisely, continued before Silas could ask something more dangerous.

"Come. I will show you where you will stay."

They passed through the main gate and walked along the cleared path toward the entrance. Snow lay thick over the gardens, covering trimmed hedges and low stone decorations beneath a soft white layer. Workers bowed their heads when Trafalgar passed. Guards at the front straightened at once.

The main doors opened before they reached them.

Two maids stepped out.

"Good day, Mister Arthur," one of them said, lowering her head. "Young Master Trafalgar, welcome back."

The other was an elf maid Trafalgar recognized. Their history had not started well, but she had become a proper worker since then. She bowed deeply, her posture much better than it had been in the past.

Trafalgar gave a small nod.

Arthur turned to Silas. "Follow me. I will explain what will happen from now on, and I will show you your room first, if that sounds good."

Silas nodded quickly.

He was nervous, but excitement had begun to win against it.

Arthur led him inside with the maids, leaving Trafalgar and Cynthia outside the mansion entrance.

For a few breaths, neither spoke.

Cynthia looked around the gardens, still wrapped in his jacket, her white hair catching flakes of snow.

"Wow," she said at last. "I’ve never been somewhere like this. It really is huge." She glanced toward the gardens. "Can I see them?"

Trafalgar tilted his head slightly. "Sure. Let’s go."

They began walking together along one of the cleared paths.

The garden was wide, more severe than decorative, with stone benches, winter trees, low hedges buried under snow, and mana lamps half-covered in frost. It did not have the softness of the orphanage courtyard.

Trafalgar walked beside Cynthia without speaking much.

His mind had already moved elsewhere.

Silas was in Euclid now. That solved the immediate danger. He was far from the orphanage, far from children who had no defense against what he might become by accident, and close to people Trafalgar could trust.

There were still things to arrange.

’I need to tell Arthur to check whether he has awakened his mana core already. I’m almost sure he can use mana. I also wonder what kind of class he received. Gluttony, like his father? Or something from his mother?’

The thought stayed with him as snow continued to fall.

’Two days until second year begins. Tomorrow I need to see Arden, Marella, and Garrika. After that, back to the academy.’

He exhaled through his nose.

’I used the vacation as well as I could, I suppose. Though calling it a vacation is generous.’

Cynthia walked beside him without interrupting.

She noticed when Trafalgar sank into his thoughts. It was easy to see once someone got used to him. His face did not change much, but his attention drifted inward, as if he were reading something only he could see.

She let him have that.

Instead, she moved a little ahead and stopped near one of the snow-covered hedges. A thin branch curved under the weight of snow, and Cynthia reached out with one sleeve half-covering her hand. She touched the branch gently, but it gave way all at once, dropping a small pile of snow over her shoulder and hair.

She froze.

Trafalgar saw it.

For some reason, the sight of Cynthia standing there, swallowed by his jacket, snow caught in her pale hair and on the bridge of her nose, trying to pretend it had not happened, was much more amusing than it should have been.

’Cute.’

He walked closer.

Cynthia turned toward him, already defensive. "Don’t say anything."

"I wasn’t going to."

"You were."

"I was thinking it."

"That’s worse."

Trafalgar reached out and brushed snow from her hair with his fingers.

"Almost hard to notice," he said. "With your hair color."

Cynthia went very still.

The distance between them had narrowed before she was ready for it. Trafalgar was taller, close enough now that she had to lift her face slightly to answer him, and the warmth of the jacket made the cold around them feel farther away.

A faint blush rose across her cheeks.

Trafalgar noticed it and pulled his hand back, giving her room.

"Sorry."

Cynthia’s fingers tightened lightly around the front of the jacket.

"It didn’t bother me."

That answer came quieter than she intended.

Trafalgar paused.

Cynthia cleared her throat and turned toward the garden path again, pretending to study the snow-covered lamps with far more interest than they deserved.

Before either of them could say anything else, Arthur returned with Silas.

The boy was almost bouncing at his side now.

"I have a room!" Silas announced before anyone asked. "With a bed just for me."

Arthur gave Trafalgar a brief look.

Trafalgar understood it at once. The important part still needed to be discussed, and because his mind had been somewhere else a moment ago, he answered faster than he should have.

"Arthur, I need you to check whether his mana core has awakened. Carefully. If it has, start with control before anything else. No combat training until you know how stable he is."

Arthur’s expression stayed steady.

"Understood."

"If it hasn’t awakened, don’t force it. Watch for signs." Trafalgar glanced toward Silas for a moment. "His bloodline may make things happen earlier than expected."

The moment the word left his mouth, he noticed Cynthia beside him.

Her expression had changed.

Trafalgar’s mind stopped for half a breath.

He had slipped.

The snow, the jacket, the closeness from before, Silas’s excitement, Arthur returning at the wrong moment; all of it had loosened his concentration in a way that rarely happened to him. Cynthia did not know about Silas’s bloodline. She did not know why he had brought Arthur so quickly. She did not know why leaving the boy in the orphanage had become impossible.

And he had almost said too much in front of her.

Arthur noticed it as well and gave a slight nod, taking the conversation away from that edge.

"I will handle it with discretion."

Trafalgar accepted that and kept his tone even.

"Keep him near people you trust. No servants wandering in without permission or soldiers asking questions. For now, everything about him stays quiet."

Arthur placed a hand over his chest.

"Of course, Young Master."

Silas looked between them, not understanding the weight beneath the words, but catching enough to become curious.

"Am I going to train?"

Trafalgar looked down at him.

"Eventually."

Silas brightened at once.

"But first," Arthur said, "you are going to eat, rest, and learn the rules of the house."

Silas nodded with complete seriousness, as if rules were already part of training.

Cynthia remained quiet.

Trafalgar could feel the question waiting in her, but she did not ask it in front of Silas. That, at least, he appreciated. She only held the jacket a little tighter around herself and watched Arthur lead the boy back toward the mansion.

Arthur showed Silas more of the house after that. His room, the dining hall, the corridors he could use, and the places he was not allowed to enter without permission. Cynthia followed for part of it, curious despite herself, but Trafalgar could tell her thoughts had not left the word he had let slip.

Bloodline.

He had given her something to hold onto, and Cynthia was not foolish enough to ignore it.

Only when Arthur and Silas moved ahead toward another hall did she slow her steps beside Trafalgar.

"Don’t worry," she said quietly. "I didn’t hear anything."

Trafalgar glanced at her.

That was obviously a lie. Not a clumsy one, though. A kind one. Cynthia had heard enough to understand there was something hidden there, and she was giving him room to pretend she had not.

For some reason, that made him appreciate her more.

He studied her for a moment, the oversized winter jacket still hanging from her shoulders, snow melting slowly in her pale hair.

"Do you want to know?"

Cynthia did not answer immediately.

She looked toward the hall where Silas had gone, then back at him.

"It’s fine," she said. "You don’t have to tell me."

"You’re not curious?"

"I am," she admitted. "But I trust you."

That answer stayed with him longer than he expected.

Cynthia adjusted the jacket around herself, her voice lowering just a little.

"I hope you can do the same."

Cynthia walked away after saying that, leaving Trafalgar behind in the garden path.

He watched her head toward the mansion, the oversized [Winter Jacket] still hanging from her shoulders, the dark fabric almost swallowing her smaller frame while snow continued to fall around her.