The atmosphere inside the conference chamber had begun changing.
Slowly.
Subtly.
But undeniably.
What started as suspicion and cautious negotiation had gradually transformed into possibility. The nobles no longer looked at the proposal merely as an ambitious gamble. Now, beneath the warm lanternlight and moonlit shadows stretching across the polished darkwood table, many of them had begun envisioning it.
A stronger South.
Unified trade.
Protected roads.
Safer territories.
Cities expanding beyond fear and corruption.
For the first time in years—
Hope had quietly entered the chamber.
Merchant Counts had already begun discussing projected profits from stabilized trade routes. Military nobles debated monster suppression coordination between territories. Lesser aristocrats whispered among themselves about Southern prestige finally rising within the Empire.
Even the Three Dukes—
Despite their caution—
Had stopped rejecting the idea outright.
The South could change.
The possibility itself had become real.
And perhaps because of that—
The room had grown lighter.
Not joyful.
But alive.
Duchess Seraphine leaned elegantly against her chair while absentmindedly tracing the rim of her untouched wine glass. Earlier tension had softened within her pale expression while her thoughts drifted repeatedly toward Kel downstairs.
That dangerous calmness.
That terrifying intelligence.
The way he manipulated an entire room so naturally that even now half the chamber unknowingly walked exactly where he wanted.
A faint warmth lingered within her chest remembering their dance beneath the chandeliers earlier.
His hand resting calmly against her waist.
The quiet confidence in his eyes.
The subtle amusement hidden beneath politeness.
Ridiculous man.
She almost smiled faintly to herself.
Then—
A voice shattered the atmosphere completely.
"Does anyone here…"
Duke Kael Draven finally spoke from within shadow.
His deep exhausted voice cut through the chamber like cold steel.
"…intend to discuss how we will defend our territories from them?"
Silence.
Instant.
Absolute.
The chamber froze.
Every noble turned toward Kael immediately.
And for the first time tonight—
Fear appeared openly within the room.
Real fear.
The earlier discussions vanished instantly.
Trade.
Politics.
Profits.
Councils.
All of it disappeared beneath a single horrifying implication.
Them.
No one spoke.
Because no one wanted to.
The lantern flames flickered softly against darkwood walls while moonlight stretched cold silver across suddenly pale noble faces.
Several merchant nobles visibly stiffened.
One older Count's hand trembled slightly against his wine glass.
A younger noble lowered his gaze immediately like someone avoiding a nightmare.
And then—
Someone finally muttered quietly.
Almost desperately.
"…Don't say their name."
Another noble immediately added under his breath—
"They are calamities…"
The chamber grew colder.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Because everyone in this room remembered.
The South had not become fractured naturally.
It had been broken.
Burned.
Destroyed.
And the creatures responsible for that destruction…
Still existed.
Duke Altair slowly leaned back within his chair, broad expression darkening heavily beneath lanternlight.
Even his sharp military composure had shifted slightly now.
Because unlike the younger nobles—
He had witnessed it personally.
The burning cities.
The collapsing fortresses.
The skies turning crimson beneath monstrous wings.
And worst of all—
The screams.
Kael's gray eyes remained emotionless as he spoke again quietly.
"We speak of rebuilding the South."
A faint pause followed.
"Trade."
"Unity."
"Expansion."
Then his gaze slowly moved across the room.
"But if they return…"
Silence.
Heavy.
Terrifying.
"…none of this matters."
No one argued.
Because no one could.
Far away downstairs—
Music still echoed faintly through House Veil's ballroom.
Beautiful.
Distant.
Like sound from another world entirely.
But inside this chamber—
Only old fear remained now.
Duchess Seraphine suddenly spoke softly.
Her voice no longer elegant.
No longer teasing.
Shaken.
"…Dragons."
The single word echoed through the room like a curse.
And instantly—
Several nobles visibly flinched.
Some lowered their eyes.
Others unconsciously tightened their fists.
One merchant noble even whispered a silent prayer beneath his breath.
Because dragons were not myths within the South.
Not ancient stories.
Not legends.
They were trauma.
Years ago—
The Southern Territories had nearly collapsed beneath dragon attacks erupting from the Wild Southern Mountains.
Entire noble houses vanished within days.
Cities burned.
Trade routes disappeared.
Countless people died beneath crimson skies and dragonfire.
And though the Empire eventually stabilized the situation…
The South never truly recovered afterward.
That disaster…
Was the reason the South became fractured and desperate to begin with.
Seraphine's fingers tightened faintly around her wine glass.
And suddenly—
Her elegant composure cracked.
Memories surfaced violently.
Unwanted.
Merciless.
Burning streets.
Blood across white marble.
People screaming while shadows passed overhead.
A sky glowing red beyond collapsing towers.
And the sound.
The sound of wings.
Massive.
Ancient.
Inhuman.
Her breathing faltered slightly.
Earlier tonight she imagined dancing with Kel again beneath golden chandeliers.
Now—
All she could remember was fire.
"I…"
Her voice trembled faintly.
"…I still remember…"
The chamber fell completely silent.
Because everyone knew.
Everyone here carried memories from that era.
But Seraphine—
Had been a child when it happened.
She remembered hiding beneath collapsed stone while her mother covered her body from falling debris.
Remembered hearing soldiers scream outside.
Remembered seeing a dragon's eye through smoke for a single horrifying moment.
A single tear finally slipped from her pale eye.
Slowly.
Silently.
And the moment it fell—
The chamber itself seemed to stop breathing.
Because seeing Duchess Seraphine Elthorn shaken…
Was unnatural.
Terrifying.
She quickly lowered her gaze afterward, clearly hating her own loss of composure.
But it was too late.
The room had already seen it.
Duke Altair's expression hardened heavily.
Not judgment.
Pain.
Old pain.
One older military Count quietly muttered—
"…The Red Calamity…"
Another noble immediately hissed sharply—
"Don't."
No one wanted to remember specific names.
Not tonight.
Not ever.
Kael remained silent after that.
Yet somehow—
His silence itself felt crueler than words.
Because he had forced the room to confront reality again.
The South wanted rebuilding.
Unity.
Growth.
But above all of that—
There still existed an ancient fear hanging over every Southern territory.
Dragons.
And until that fear disappeared completely…
The South would never truly escape its past.
The lantern flames flickered softly once more.
The chamber remained silent.
And somewhere far below—
The ballroom music continued playing beautifully…
Entirely unaware that above them—
The nightmares of the South had just awakened again