Night returned to the Southern capital once more.
But unlike the storm-covered darkness of previous days, tonight the sky remained clear.
The crescent moon hung quietly above the city, pale silver light cascading over rooftops and stone streets still carrying traces of daytime heat. Countless stars shimmered around it like scattered fragments of ancient glass, while warm winds drifted through the city carrying the scent of blooming night flowers and distant firewood.
The South at night possessed a strange beauty.
Dangerous.
Seductive.
Like a smiling predator hiding blood beneath silk.
Lanterns illuminated the noble district in soft amber tones, their light reflecting against polished carriages and marble pathways. Music drifted faintly from distant estates where nobles held late-night gatherings, while guards patrolled intersections with practiced vigilance.
And through that quiet luxury—
Kel walked calmly.
His appearance remained that of "Heral."
Simple dark clothing.
A traveler's outer robe.
Leather gloves.
Nothing extraordinary.
Nothing noble.
Yet his posture naturally carried calm refinement impossible to fully conceal. Even while disguising himself as a potion maker, his movements remained measured and composed, each step perfectly balanced.
The mansion of Viscount Landon Veil soon appeared ahead.
Standing beneath moonlight, the estate looked more imposing at night than during the day. Its dark stone walls reflected faint silver beneath the sky while warm light glowed behind tall glass windows.
Unlike the extravagant estates of old Southern nobles, Landon's mansion lacked unnecessary decoration.
It was elegant.
But practical.
Every visible structure carried purpose.
Every guard placement held strategic positioning.
Kel observed silently as he approached the gates.
The guards stationed outside immediately noticed him.
Their eyes sharpened instinctively.
Hands moved subtly toward weapons.
Then—
Recognition.
One of them stepped forward respectfully.
"You are Mister Heral?"
His tone carried caution mixed with professionalism.
Kel nodded once.
"Yes."
The guard relaxed almost immediately.
"The Head Maid informed us of your arrival."
He stepped aside without hesitation.
"You may enter."
Kel walked past the gates calmly.
And inwardly—
He acknowledged it.
Now—
He possessed official access.
No infiltration.
No shadows.
No suspicion.
The mansion itself had accepted his existence naturally.
Exactly as planned.
Sairen's voice echoed softly through the soul-link.
"…You really enjoy building identities."
Kel crossed the courtyard slowly while moonlight stretched across the wet stone pathways beneath his feet.
"Identities are tools."
His response came calmly.
Far away—
At Scarder Lake—
Sairen rested quietly atop the endless mist-covered waters, one leg folded beneath her while observing the mansion through Kel's senses.
"…Most people wear masks to hide."
A faint pause.
"…You wear them to move freely."
Kel did not deny it.
Because she was correct.
Servants moved quietly throughout the mansion as Kel entered through the main doors. Warm light spilled across polished wooden floors while the scent of herbs and fresh tea lingered faintly in the air.
The atmosphere inside felt structured.
Disciplined.
Nothing like the chaotic noble houses common throughout the South.
Even the servants walked efficiently rather than nervously.
Landon had trained them well.
A woman approached shortly after his arrival.
The Head Maid.
She appeared to be in her early forties, dressed in a perfectly maintained dark maid uniform accented with silver embroidery. Her posture remained straight, her expression composed, and her sharp eyes missed very little.
She stopped before Kel and bowed slightly.
"Mister Heral."
Her tone was respectful.
Professional.
"Lord Landon has been expecting you."
Kel inclined his head politely.
"My thanks."
The Head Maid studied him briefly.
Not rudely.
But carefully.
As though attempting to understand what kind of person could create potions impressive enough to catch Landon's attention personally.
Then—
She turned.
"This way, please."
Kel followed silently through the mansion corridors.
Moonlight entered through tall windows periodically, illuminating sections of the hallway in pale silver while lanterns cast warm orange light across dark wooden walls.
The estate felt alive.
Not loudly.
But steadily.
Servants moved with purpose.
Guards rotated shifts quietly.
Documents were carried between offices despite the late hour.
House Veil was growing.
Rapidly.
And everyone inside the mansion could feel it.
Eventually—
They reached a large study room.
The doors opened.
And Landon stood inside.
He wore simpler clothing tonight compared to earlier public appearances—a dark gray shirt beneath a sleeveless black outer coat. His sword remained resting nearby against the wall even indoors, habit refusing to leave him completely.
Several documents covered the desk before him, alongside regional maps and trade reports.
He looked less like a noble—
And more like a commander managing a battlefield.
"My lord—"
Landon began instinctively.
Then stopped himself immediately.
Correcting naturally.
"Mister Heral."
Kel almost smiled.
Almost.
The Head Maid noticed the brief awkwardness.
But interpreted it differently.
Likely as noble unfamiliarity with craftsmen.
Nothing suspicious.
Landon stepped forward calmly.
"I trust your arrival was smooth?"
Kel nodded once.
"Yes."
Landon turned toward the Head Maid.
"Prepare the eastern workshop for Mister Heral."
His voice carried natural authority now.
Confident.
Controlled.
"Provide every material and tool he requests."
A brief pause followed.
"And ensure no one disturbs him unnecessarily."
The Head Maid bowed immediately.
"As you wish, my lord."
Landon continued.
"He will also require personal freedom to conduct research and develop new potion formulas."
The Head Maid's eyes widened faintly at that.
Research privileges inside a noble estate were not granted lightly.
Especially to outsiders.
Yet Landon's expression remained firm.
"He has my full trust."
The Head Maid lowered her head respectfully once more.
"Understood."
Though inwardly—
Curiosity had clearly deepened.
Sairen's voice echoed softly with amusement.
"…You are now officially a respected alchemist."
Kel responded calmly.
"For now."
And so—
Heral the potion maker officially entered House Veil.
The following days passed quietly.
At least—
On the surface.
Kel settled naturally into the role.
Every morning he entered the workshop prepared specifically for him within the eastern section of the mansion. The room itself was spacious and well-ventilated, lined with shelves filled with herbs, beast materials, crystal containers, and alchemical equipment imported from various Southern territories.
The scent of medicinal plants permanently lingered in the air.
Warm.
Earthy.
Ancient.
And Kel—
Worked.
Not carelessly.
Not lazily.
But with frightening precision.
Even the servants began noticing it quickly.
His movements while creating potions possessed almost unnatural control. Every measurement exact. Every flame adjusted perfectly. Every ingredient processed without waste.
No hesitation.
No uncertainty.
As though he had already memorized thousands of formulas long ago.
The first potion he created inside the mansion caused immediate discussion among the staff.
A recovery potion.
Simple in concept.
Yet vastly superior in quality.
Its purity reached levels most Southern alchemists struggled to achieve even after decades of experience.
Then came stamina potions.
Mental recovery mixtures.
Mana stabilizers.
Each one refined beyond expectation.
Within days—
Word quietly spread throughout the mansion.
The new potion maker was exceptional.
Even the Head Maid eventually visited the workshop personally.
She arrived quietly one afternoon while Kel worked beneath warm sunlight entering through tall workshop windows.
Rows of potion bottles rested cooling nearby, glowing faintly in shades of emerald, gold, crimson, and blue.
The entire room carried a calming herbal fragrance mixed with traces of mana.
Kel stood at the center calmly stirring a silver container over controlled blue flame.
Completely focused.
The Head Maid watched silently for several moments.
Then—
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
Not suspiciously.
But impressed.
Because she realized something.
Kel did not merely follow formulas.
He understood them.
Deeply.
Instinctively.
Like an artist shaping living things.
"…Remarkable."
The words escaped her quietly before she intended them to.
Kel glanced toward her calmly.
Then returned to work.
No pride.
No arrogance.
Only silence.
The Head Maid observed him carefully.
And for the first time—
She genuinely understood why Landon had personally invited this man into the mansion.
Days passed.
Then nearly a full week.
And slowly—
Heral the potion maker became a natural part of House Veil.
The servants trusted him.
The guards respected him.
And Landon's influence quietly expanded thanks to the increasing quality of potions circulating through his forces.
But beneath that peaceful routine—
Something else continued moving.
Slowly.
Silently.
Like a shadow beneath still water.
Because Kel von Rosenfeld had not come to the South merely to make potions.
This identity—
This mansion—
This entire calm existence—
Was only the beginning.
And somewhere behind his unreadable eyes…
A far greater plan was already unfolding.