The Duke walked around the desk, approaching Calian. The sound of his boots clicking against the wooden floor. Tuk. Tuk. Tuk.
"Alaric awakened his Golden Sword Aura when he was ten," the Duke began, listing his children's achievements. "Beren was able to strategize advanced warfare at eleven. Clara... your older sister, was already contracted by an Intermediate Fire Spirit when she was your age."
The Duke stopped right in front of Calian. The aura of intimidation emanating from the man's body was so strong that the air around them felt thin. Calian had to struggle hard to keep his knees from trembling.
"And then there's you," the Duke looked down, staring at the crown of Calian's head. "You, who were given the best food, the best education, the best facilities... you give me a result of zero. No. Worse than zero. You give me disgrace."
The word 'disgrace' was spoken with a piercing emphasis.
Calian bit his lower lip. He wanted to scream. He wanted to say, 'I am not empty! I have a power that could turn you into dust or a baby in an instant! I have time in my hands!'
But he held back. He knew, if he spoke now, his father would not believe him. Or worse, his father would think he was mad and lock him in an asylum. Calian needed the freedom to study his power, and that freedom could only be gained if he was deemed harmless.
"I apologize, Father," Calian said faintly. "I... I don't know why this happened."
"An apology will not restore the face you've smeared in front of the entire imperial nobility!" the Duke suddenly roared.
CRASH!
The Duke slammed his hand on the desk next to him. A crystal flower vase on the desk shook violently.
Calian flinched, his shoulders rising in reflex.
He glanced at his mother again. Duchess Elara put down her teacup with a small clinking sound, startled by her husband's outburst. However, she remained silent. She looked at Calian with tearful eyes, shaking her head gently as if saying, "How pitiful you are, son. Why couldn't you have been born normal?"
His mother's silence was more painful than his father's yelling. That pity slowly killed Calian's self-esteem. Calian realized one thing then: His mother didn't hate him, but she also didn't love him enough to defend him. To his mother, Calian was an embarrassing tragedy.
"Listen closely, Calian," the Duke's voice lowered again, cold and deadly. He grabbed Calian's shoulder. The grip was strong, painful. "In the Larvin family, a person's worth is determined by their utility. Power is our currency."
The Duke brought his face close to Calian's ear. "You are bankrupt. You have no value."
Calian's heart pounded. Value? his inner voice screamed cynically. You speak of value to someone who can live forever? You are shortsighted, Father. You and your whole obsession with power are shortsighted.
But outwardly, Calian just nodded brokenly. "I understand."
The Duke released his grip, as if disgusted to touch his own son for too long. He walked back to his chair and sat down, roughly rubbing his face.
"I will not discard you," the Duke said, his tone like a businessman deciding to keep a damaged asset in a warehouse rather than throwing it in the trash. "It would only add to the scandal. People would say Duke Larvin is cruel to his disabled son."
Disabled. The word rang in Calian's ears.
"But," the Duke continued firmly, his eyes glaring sharply. "Starting today, your privileges are revoked. You will no longer receive private lessons from the best tutors—it's a waste of money. You will not attend noble parties—I do not want people looking at me with pity for bringing you. Your monthly allowance will be cut to the bare minimum of living expenses."
A punishment of exile within his own home. Total isolation.
"You will live in the west pavilion. Away from the main building," the Duke decided. "Live there quietly. Eat, sleep, and don't cause trouble. Be a shadow. That is the only way you can be useful to this family: by being unseen."
Calian felt a strange relief. The west pavilion? It was a quiet, old, and rarely visited place by servants. It was perfect.
"Understood, Father," Calian replied, his voice sounding resigned but controlled. "I accept your decision."
The Duke looked at him suspiciously for a moment, surprised that his son wasn't crying or begging. Usually, a child Calian's age would prostrate themselves, weep, and ask for a second chance. But Calian stood straight, accepting his fate with an unnatural calmness.
"You're not crying?" the Duke asked, narrowing his eyes.
"Will tears grant me a Mana Core, Father?" Calian countered flatly.
The Duke was silent. The corner of his lip twitched slightly, whether from offense or agreement. "No. Good. At least you still have some logic, even if you lack talent. Go. Sebastian will handle your relocation."
Calian bowed respectfully. "Thank you, Father. Mother."
He turned to his mother for the last time. Duchess Elara finally opened her mouth.
"Take care of yourself, Calian," his mother said gently, her voice like a fragile breeze. "The west pavilion... it gets cold at night. I will have a servant send extra blankets."
That was all. Extra blankets. Not a hug. Not words of encouragement. Just material pity.
"Thank you, Mother," Calian replied, closing his heart tightly. He didn't need blankets. He could manipulate his own body's condition if he wanted. He didn't need their pity.
Calian turned and walked towards the exit door. Every step he took away from his father's desk felt like shedding chains that had bound him. The expectation to be strong like his brother? Shattered. The demand to bring pride to the family name? Gone.
He was now free. Free to be the 'trash' no one paid attention to.
As he held the doorknob, he heard his father muttering softly, perhaps directed at his mother, but loud enough for Calian to hear.
"At least he's not causing a scene. I hope he knows his place and disappears from sight until he's grown."
Calian opened the door, stepped out, and closed it behind him.
In the hallway, Sebastian was waiting. The old butler's face looked anxious. "Young Master... how did it go?"
Calian looked at Sebastian. For the first time since this morning, a genuine smile spread across Calian's face. A smile that made Sebastian shiver because it wasn't a smile of sorrow.
"Everything went smoothly, Sebastian," Calian said lightly. "I'm being moved to the west pavilion."
"The west pavilion?!" Sebastian was shocked. "But... that place is old, dusty, and... isolated. It's practically a prison for a noble."
"No, Sebastian," Calian began walking down the corridor, his steps light. He looked at his own palm, imagining the flow of time he could now bend at will.
"It's not a prison!" Calian continued in his heart. It is my hermitage. My training ground. There, far from Father's eyes and Mother's disgusted pity, I will learn to use this 'Time Loop'.
He turned to Sebastian. "Prepare my belongings. I want to move tonight."
"Tonight? But the Young Master needs rest—"
"I'm not tired, Sebastian," Calian cut in. His eyes glowed with a new ambition. "I have just woken up."
As they walked towards his room to pack, Calian passed a large mirror in the hallway. He paused for a moment, looking at his reflection.
A thin, purple-haired boy, with sharp amethyst eyes. The world saw him as an empty glass. But Calian knew, the glass wasn't empty. It contained the most potent poison for those who underestimated time: immortality.
Just wait, Calian thought, staring at his own reflection. Let Brother Alaric have his sword, Brother Beren his tactics, and Sister Clara her fire magic. They will all grow old. They will weaken. Father will become old and frail.
Calian touched the surface of the mirror. Unconsciously, he activated a fraction of his power—Temporal Stasis—for a split second. A speck of dust floating in the air near his finger stopped moving entirely, frozen in time, before falling back down as he released it.
But I... I will remain. I will master time. And one day, when all of you have rotted away with age, this 'blessing zero' will be the one standing tallest above everything.
"Come on, Sebastian," Calian urged, continuing his steps. "My new life begins today."
Behind the closed study door, Duke Maxwell and Duchess Elara might have thought they had disposed of a problem. They did not realize they had just unleashed a time monster into the shadows of their own home, a monster that would thrive in the silence they created.