Snow drifted endlessly beneath the northern skies.
Cold white winds swept across the massive plains surrounding the North Capital while ancient black walls towered proudly across the horizon like sleeping giants forged from obsidian and winter itself.
And beyond those walls—
Rested the heart of the North.
The Rosenfeld Main Estate.
A fortress more than a mansion.
Massive dragon-carved towers pierced the skies while enormous walls reinforced with ancient mana stone surrounded the sprawling estate grounds beneath countless dragon banners fluttering against the frozen winds.
This was not merely a noble residence.
It was the symbol of northern authority itself.
The seat of House Rosenfeld.
The home of Duke Aktaris von Rosenfeld.
And today—
After two long years—
Its eldest son finally returned.
The black warhorse slowly approached the massive entrance gates beneath softly falling snow while armored northern knights stood guard along the walls carrying heavy black spears engraved with silver dragon markings.
The atmosphere remained disciplined.
Sharp.
Every movement precise beneath northern military standards.
Then—
Kel finally stopped before the gates.
The horse exhaled cold mist softly into the frozen air while the young man quietly lifted his eyes toward the estate he had not seen in years.
Inside his mind—
Sairen softly whispered:
"So this is your home."
Kel calmly observed the towering fortress-like estate.
"Yes."
Another pause.
"And honestly…"
The silver-haired spirit sounded slightly impressed now.
"…it feels more like a kingdom than a noble residence."
Kel faintly smiled.
"That's because the North practically is its own kingdom."
Meanwhile—
Several guards approached cautiously afterward.
The leading knight lowered his hand toward his sword instinctively.
Not from hostility.
Procedure.
"Identity."
The armored knight's voice echoed firmly through the cold air.
"And purpose."
Kel quietly looked toward the guards afterward.
Then calmly—
He answered.
"Inform the Duke…"
The freezing winds moved softly through his black hair beneath the pale skies.
"…that his eldest son has returned from isolated training."
Silence followed instantly afterward.
The guards froze.
One blinked once.
Then another.
And slowly—
Recognition surfaced within their expressions.
Not merely from the words.
But from the voice.
The face.
The eyes.
Even after two years—
The household knights still remembered the young master they once escorted through these same grounds.
Yet now—
Something about him felt completely different.
The cursed heir they remembered had always looked fragile.
Pale.
Weak.
Like death itself lingered constantly beside him.
But the man standing before them now—
Radiated overwhelming vitality.
Authority.
Pressure.
Even the horse beneath him seemed quieter beneath his presence.
The lead guard immediately straightened completely afterward.
Then suddenly—
All nearby knights bowed deeply.
"Young Master!"
Their voices echoed sharply through the snowy gates.
"We shall inform His Grace immediately!"
Without another second wasted—
Two knights instantly rushed toward the estate interior.
Meanwhile—
Kel quietly remained seated atop the horse beneath the falling snow.
The massive gates slowly opened afterward with deep metallic echoes shaking the frozen air.
And for the first time in two years—
Kel entered home again.
The black horse calmly moved forward through the enormous dragon-carved entrance while estate servants and household knights gradually began noticing him one after another.
Then—
Whispers spread rapidly.
"The young master returned…"
"The eldest son…"
"Lord Kel…"
Shock.
Confusion.
Disbelief.
Because most people remembered clearly how he looked before leaving.
A dying child.
Someone even breathing painfully.
Yet now—
The young man riding calmly through the estate grounds looked entirely different.
His posture straight.
His aura stable.
His eyes calm and deep like endless dark waters hiding terrifying storms beneath the surface.
Inside his mind—
Sairen softly muttered:
"They're staring at you like they're seeing a ghost."
Kel quietly looked ahead.
"…Maybe they are."
Meanwhile—
Far above—
Inside the estate's upper central balcony—
A towering figure suddenly appeared.
Duke Aktaris von Rosenfeld.
The Slaughter Dragon himself.
The northern ruler stood silently beneath the cold skies while heavy black military robes moved softly beneath the winds.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Overwhelming.
Even standing motionlessly—
The duke radiated terrifying pressure naturally.
His sharp crimson eyes immediately locked onto the returning figure riding through the estate below.
And for the first time in years—
Aktaris von Rosenfeld remained completely still.
Because even he—
Momentarily struggled recognizing his own son.
Meanwhile—
Behind the duke—
More figures gradually appeared.
Family members.
Retainers.
Household elites.
Everyone drawn by the sudden commotion.
And among them—
One woman nearly stopped breathing entirely.
Helena von Rosenfeld.
Kel's mother.
The duchess stepped forward slightly beneath the balcony light while one trembling hand slowly rose toward her lips.
Her eyes widened.
Because the difference hurt her heart instantly.
Two years ago—
Her firstborn looked like someone already halfway buried.
Pale skin.
Weak breathing.
Dull eyes hiding endless suffering.
Yet now—
The young man riding calmly beneath the snow looked alive.
Truly alive.
His face carried healthy color.
His posture firm.
His very presence radiated vitality and authority impossible to hide.
And somehow—
That single realization nearly shattered the duchess emotionally.
Inside her chest—
An unbearable mixture of relief and pain exploded simultaneously.
Because seeing him healthy now only reminded her how much he suffered before.
A faint trembling entered her body afterward.
Almost like she wanted to cry.
Meanwhile—
Across the estate grounds—
The atmosphere completely changed.
Household knights instinctively lowered their heads one after another as Kel passed through the central paths.
Not commanded.
Instinctive.
Because something about him unconsciously demanded acknowledgment now.
Authority.
Not noble arrogance.
Something deeper.
Older.
Inside his mind—
Sairen softly whispered:
"You're leaking pressure unconsciously."
Kel slightly narrowed his eyes afterward.
Indeed—
Even while suppressing himself heavily—
His evolved aura still subtly affected the surroundings.
To ordinary knights—
His mere presence felt overwhelming.
Meanwhile—
Kel calmly approached the estate's main entrance afterward.
The enormous doors towered before him beneath dragon-carved pillars while snow drifted quietly around the silent grounds.
Then slowly—
Kel dismounted the horse.
His boots touched the frozen stone softly.
And instantly—
The entire estate became silent.
No one spoke.
No one moved.
Only cold winds echoed beneath the pale northern skies.
Kel quietly handed the reins toward a nearby stunned servant afterward before slowly walking forward.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Each footstep echoed clearly across the courtyard.
And as he approached the entrance—
His eyes finally lifted upward.
Toward the balcony.
Toward the towering figure watching silently above.
Father and son met each other's gaze for the first time in two years.
Duke Aktaris remained motionless.
Yet his crimson eyes subtly narrowed afterward.
Because now—
Standing before him—
Was no longer the weak cursed child he sent away.
Something fundamental had changed.
No—
Everything had changed.
And somehow—
The duke understood that immediately.
Meanwhile—
Kel calmly observed his father silently.
The man he once believed cold.
Distant.
Unreachable.
Yet now—
After hearing northern stories during his journey home—
Kel no longer knew what to think completely.
Silence stretched endlessly between them beneath falling snow.
Then finally—
The Duke of the North slowly spoke.
His deep voice echoed across the estate like distant thunder.
"…Welcome home, My Son."
And for the first time in years—
The cursed heir of House Rosenfeld finally stood home again beneath the ancient dragon banners of the North.