The conference chamber fell silent the moment Landon entered.
Warm golden lanternlight flickered softly across the massive darkwood walls while moonlight filtered through towering windows overlooking the sleeping Southern capital below. The long oval table at the center of the room gleamed beneath crystal lamps, covered with maps, documents, untouched wine glasses, and carefully arranged chairs carrying invisible political weight.
And yet—
The true pressure within the room came not from power itself…
But from the people holding it.
All Three Southern Dukes sat present.
Ancient merchant lords.
Military Counts.
Influential nobles.
Every person within this chamber possessed enough influence to alter the South through a single decision.
And now—
All of them watched Landon Veil.
Landon stepped forward calmly.
But inwardly—
Even he could feel it.
The weight of their eyes.
For just a brief moment, memories flashed through his mind.
The wandering mercenary years.
Blood-covered battlefields.
Cold nights surviving among monsters and criminals.
The uncertainty of the South when he first arrived alone under Kel's orders.
And now—
He stood before the rulers of the South itself.
His heartbeat remained steady.
But internally—
One thought crossed his mind quietly.
I truly came this far…
Then—
Another thought followed immediately.
No…
His eyes subtly shifted toward Kel behind him.
We came this far.
Meanwhile—
Kel entered second.
Silent.
Calm.
Walking exactly two steps behind Landon like a trusted attendant.
And instantly—
The atmosphere inside the room shifted subtly again.
Not everyone understood why.
But instinctively—
Many nobles felt it.
That man was dangerous.
Duke Altair Valemont
Duke Altair's sharp military eyes narrowed slightly as he observed the pair entering together.
Interesting.
His gaze lingered briefly on Landon first.
The young Viscount had grown quickly.
Too quickly.
Yet unlike most rising nobles intoxicated by sudden influence, Landon still carried discipline within his posture.
That alone separated him from fools.
But then—
Altair's attention shifted toward Kel.
And his thoughts deepened.
That one…
From the beginning of the feast, Altair had noticed something strange about Heral.
Not his appearance.
Not his speech.
His positioning.
He moved around Landon naturally without ever appearing subordinate emotionally.
Like a shadow assisting a sword.
Not beneath it.
Beside it.
And earlier—
When Heral manipulated the ballroom crowd effortlessly to create political space around Landon…
Altair noticed everything.
Conversation control… crowd management… emotional observation…
The Duke's eyes sharpened slightly.
This is not a mere potion maker.
Then another thought crossed his mind.
One far more dangerous.
Could House Veil's rapid rise actually be his work?
Altair did not know.
But for the first time tonight—
He began considering the possibility seriously.
Duchess Seraphine Elthorn
Seraphine leaned elegantly against her chair while pale fingers rested lightly against the stem of her wine glass.
Outwardly—
She remained graceful and calm.
But internally—
Her thoughts had become unexpectedly complicated.
Her gaze unconsciously drifted toward Kel again.
This man is dangerous.
Normally, that realization would increase caution.
Distance.
Suspicion.
Instead—
She found herself more interested.
Which irritated her slightly.
During their dance earlier, she felt it clearly.
Not lust.
Not infatuation.
Something stranger.
Comfort.
And that alone made him dangerous to her personally.
Because Seraphine had spent years building walls high enough that no man within Southern politics could approach her emotionally.
Yet somehow—
Heral slipped through them naturally without even trying.
Her chest tightened faintly remembering the feeling of his hand resting against her waist during the dance.
Steady.
Warm.
Unshaken.
Ridiculous.
She almost laughed inwardly at herself.
A Duchess becoming distracted by a mysterious potion maker.
How absurd.
And yet—
Her eyes kept finding him anyway.
Then another thought surfaced quietly.
If he truly stands behind House Veil's rise…
Her gaze sharpened slightly.
Then this man may become one of the most dangerous people in the South.
And strangely—
That possibility only made her heartbeat faster.
Duke Kael Draven
Kael Draven sat motionless within shadow near the edge of the table.
Like a beast resting silently inside darkness.
Most nobles feared him because of his reputation.
But tonight—
His thoughts remained elsewhere entirely.
On Kel.
Earlier during the feast—
He sensed it briefly.
That strange ancient mana scent surrounding Heral.
Faint.
Almost impossible to detect.
Yet unmistakably old.
Not corrupted.
Not holy.
Something else.
Something deeper.
His exhausted gray eyes observed Kel quietly now.
Who are you…?
For five years, Kael had searched ancient wilderness regions, forbidden ruins, and forgotten creatures seeking answers for his son's madness.
And because of that—
He had encountered many strange things.
Ancient mana included.
Heral carried traces of it.
Not externally.
Within him.
Kael's fingers tightened subtly beneath the table.
Could he know something?
Hope.
The emotion felt almost foreign now.
Painful.
Dangerous.
So Kael immediately buried it again.
No.
False hope destroyed people faster than despair.
He learned that long ago.
Yet despite himself—
His gaze remained fixed toward Kel longer than intended.
Count Veridan Ross
The old merchant Count adjusted his glasses quietly while observing Landon and Kel together.
Unlike military nobles—
He viewed the room economically.
And currently—
His instincts screamed danger.
Not physical danger.
Market danger.
These two will disrupt the South completely.
The potion business alone already threatened existing trade structures.
But after tonight—
It would become worse.
Far worse.
Because House Veil no longer merely possessed products.
Now it possessed attention.
Influence.
And most importantly—
Duke-level recognition.
The Count exhaled quietly inwardly.
The smaller merchant houses are finished.
If Landon leveraged all Three Dukes properly…
The Southern trade balance itself could collapse and rebuild around House Veil.
And that quiet man behind him—
The Count's eyes narrowed slightly.
He thinks too calmly.
Merchants survived by reading greed.
Fear.
Ambition.
But Heral revealed almost nothing emotionally.
Which made him impossible to predict.
And people impossible to predict…
Were terrifying.
Lord Cassian Duret
A young noble seated further down the table watched Landon with concealed envy.
How?
One year.
That was all it took.
One year for Landon Veil to rise from wandering mercenary lord to a man standing beside Dukes.
While others spent generations fighting for scraps of influence.
Cassian's jaw tightened subtly.
Luck.
But deep inside—
Even he knew it wasn't luck.
No lucky fool could gather all Three Dukes beneath one roof.
No lucky fool could command attention this naturally.
And no lucky fool…
Would have someone like Heral standing behind him.
Cassian's gaze drifted toward Kel briefly.
And instinctively—
Unease crawled beneath his skin.
Because Heral's calmness felt unnatural.
Like someone entirely unconcerned by the enormous powers surrounding him.
Who exactly is he…?
Landon Veil
Landon slowly took his seat near the center of the table.
And inwardly—
He finally realized something clearly.
Tonight changed everything.
After this gathering—
House Veil would no longer be viewed as merely a rising noble house.
It would become a political force.
And once that happened—
Enemies would multiply.
His gaze shifted subtly toward Kel standing nearby.
Calm.
Silent.
Unreadable.
Then Landon thought quietly—
How far ahead are you seeing now, my lord?
Because every single step tonight…
Had unfolded exactly as Kel predicted.
Every reaction.
Every movement.
Every emotional shift inside the ballroom.
And suddenly—
Landon understood something terrifying.
Maybe Kel never entered the South merely to survive here.
Maybe—
He came to conquer it.
Kel von Rosenfeld
Meanwhile—
Kel himself remained completely calm.
Standing behind Landon quietly while observing the room beneath half-shadow and lanternlight.
He noticed every gaze.
Every suspicion.
Every fear.
Every desire.
The room itself had already begun dividing unconsciously.
Those interested in profit.
Those interested in alliances.
Those threatened by House Veil.
And those searching for something deeper.
His eyes briefly met Duke Kael Draven's.
Then Seraphine's.
Then Altair's.
And inwardly—
Kel thought only one thing.
Good.
Because tonight—
The South had finally begun looking at him seriously.