Victory tastes nothing like I imagined.
The capital of Velmora glittered beneath the night sky, every tower lit with golden lanterns, every street filled with laughter that did not belong to me. The war had ended only days ago, yet the kingdom had already begun celebrating—as if blood could be washed away with wine.
As if the dead had never existed.
I stood at the top of the marble stairs leading into the royal hall, watching nobles gather below like a sea of polished masks. Silk, jewels, empty smiles. The air smelled of perfume and roasted meat, but beneath it… I could still remember the scent of iron.
It doesn't go away.
"Lucas."
My name pulled me back.
I turned slightly. Esther stood behind me, her posture as perfect as ever, silver hair pinned neatly, her expression calm—but not unkind. She had always been like that. Distant, yet… not cruel.
"The king is expecting all noble heirs inside," she said.
Of course he is.
I nodded. "I'll follow."
She studied me for a moment, as if trying to read something I had already buried. Then she simply turned and walked ahead, her dress trailing softly behind her like she had never once stepped on a battlefield.
I wondered if she envied me.
Or pitied me.
I couldn't tell anymore.
—
The hall was louder than I expected.
Music echoed from the high ceilings, blending with laughter and the clinking of glasses. Nobles from every corner of Velmora had gathered, their voices overlapping into a dull, endless noise.
I walked past them without stopping.
Eyes followed me.
They always did.
"The youngest war mage…"
"They say he turned the tide himself…"
"Is that the Count's third son?"
Their whispers slid past me like wind. Once, I might have listened. Once, I might have cared.
Now, it all felt… distant.
Like watching someone else's life.
—
"Lucas."
This time, the voice was sharper.
Andrias.
I stopped.
My older brother stood near one of the pillars, dressed in deep blue, the crest of our house pinned proudly on his chest. Unlike Esther, there was no softness in his gaze.
Only expectation.
"You're late," he said.
"I arrived on time," I replied calmly.
His jaw tightened slightly. "Then act like it. Tonight isn't just a celebration—it's a statement. Our family must be seen."
Our family.
The words felt heavier than they should.
"I am here, am I not?" I said.
"That's not enough," Andrias snapped quietly. "You've been gone for months, ignoring your duties, doing as you please—"
"I was at war."
The words left my mouth before I could soften them.
For a brief moment, silence settled between us.
His expression shifted—not into understanding, but irritation.
"Exactly," he said. "And now the war is over. It's time you remember where you belong."
Where I belong.
I almost laughed.
If only he knew.
If only any of them knew… how little of me was left to belong anywhere.
—
"Brother!"
A smaller figure rushed toward us, nearly slipping on the polished floor.
Charles.
He stopped in front of me, slightly out of breath, his eyes bright despite the tension around us. Unlike the others, he didn't hesitate.
"You're really back," he said.
Something in his voice made my chest tighten.
"…Yes," I answered.
He grinned. "I heard stories! They said you—"
"Charles." Andrias' voice cut in sharply. "Mind your manners."
The boy flinched slightly, his excitement dimming just a little.
I noticed.
I always noticed.
"It's fine," I said quietly. "Let him speak."
Andrias didn't look pleased, but he said nothing more.
Charles glanced between us before lowering his voice. "I'm just glad you're safe."
Safe.
The word lingered in my mind longer than it should have.
I nodded once. "Thank you."
And for a moment—just a moment—the noise of the hall faded.
—
But peace never lasts.
"Ah, Lucas."
A new voice joined us.
Smooth. Controlled.
I didn't need to turn to know who it was.
My father.
The Count of our house.
I faced him slowly.
His gaze swept over me, measuring, calculating—not warmth, not pride. Just evaluation.
"You've made quite a name for yourself," he said. "The king speaks highly of you."
"I see," I replied.
"That is all you have to say?"
I met his eyes.
"Yes."
A pause.
Not long—but enough.
His expression didn't change, yet something colder settled in the space between us.
"You represent this family," he continued. "Do not forget that."
There it is again.
That invisible chain.
I felt it tighten… and for the first time, I didn't instinctively accept it.
Instead, a quiet thought surfaced in my mind.
*Do I?*
—
The music swelled as the king finally entered the hall.
Everyone turned.
Everyone bowed.
I followed the motion, lowering my head along with the rest—but my thoughts drifted elsewhere.
To the battlefield.
To the silence after the last spell faded.
To the shadow that should have been there… but wasn't.
Vael.
The name came uninvited.
And with it, a hollow ache.
They celebrate victory.
But all I can think about… is what was lost.
—
As I straightened, I caught my reflection in one of the tall glass windows.
A young noble.
A war hero.
A mage.
But the eyes staring back at me felt older than all of those titles.
Tired.
Quiet.
Detached.
I watched that version of myself for a long moment.
Then I looked away.
Because deep down, I already knew—
This place…
This family…
This life…
It was no longer mine.