The first sliver of dawn crept through the towering glass windows of the Ferris Estate, its golden light spilling onto the polished marble floors. The grand mansion stood in eerie silence. No cheerful voices, no echoes of laughter, only the distant sound of servants preparing for the day, their footsteps careful, almost afraid.
Kael opened his eyes to the familiar yet suffocating sight of his lavish bedroom—an ornate canopy bed, embroidered silk drapes, and a chandelier that glittered like a frozen constellation. But all the grandeur meant nothing.
It was his eighteenth birthday, and the house felt colder than ever.
With a quiet sigh, he pushed the covers away and got up. The floor was cold beneath his bare feet as he strode toward the door. A small part of him hoped—just for a second—that maybe, just maybe, his father had stayed behind this time. That when he stepped into the dining area, he wouldn't just see empty chairs.
But deep inside, he already knew the answer.
The dining hall was a vast expanse of white and gold, its long table meant for extravagant feasts. However, someone set a small space only at the far end of the table today. And waiting there, with a warm yet sorrowful smile, was Maria.
"Happy birthday, Kael," she said, her voice soft, laced with quiet pain. The old woman, his closest attendant since childhood, had set out a modest homemade cake—plain, with a single candle flickering in the dim morning light.
Around the cake, the other maids had arranged small pots of food.
Kael's chest tightened.
Maria wrung her hands. "I… I'm so sorry, child. The mistress… refused to let us use any of the estate's ingredients for a proper celebration. But we wanted to do something for you."
Kael forced a smile, even as something sharp twisted inside him. Stepmother Evelyn… of course she would.
He could already imagine the smug expression on her face as she boarded the airship with his father and stepbrother, off to another extravagant vacation abroad. His father—Lucien—hadn't even left a note. Not a single word.
Still, he refused to let his bitterness taint this moment.
"Maria," he said, looking into her glassy eyes, "this means more to me than anything money could buy." He reached forward, pulling her into a warm embrace. The woman stiffened at first, then let out a trembling breath as she held onto him, like a mother holding onto a son she could not protect.
She pulled away, dabbing at her eyes. "Come now, before the food gets cold."
Kael sat down, feeling the presence of the other maids lingering at the edges of the room, hesitant yet hopeful. He glanced at each of them—women who had watched him grow, who had cared for him more than his blood.
"This is a feast," Kael declared, his smile genuine this time. "Let's eat together."
Their eyes widened. Servants were never allowed to dine at the table, but Maria, after a moment's hesitation, nodded. "Alright then. Just for today."
They gathered around, filling the space with quiet warmth.
Kael took a deep breath and blew out the candle.
The flames dimmed, but something inside him burned even brighter.
As the minor celebration continued, Kael found himself caught between laughter and the quiet ache in his chest.
Every smile and every word of kindness from Maria and the others was a stark contrast to the cold indifference of his father and stepmother.
This is the only family I have.
The laughter faded into a gentle hush as the other maids, smiling shyly, pulled out their small gifts for Kael. Wrapped in simple paper, tied with ribbons that were reused, they were humble offerings—yet they meant more than anything money could buy.
"Here, Master Kael," one of the younger maids said, handing him a small box. "We all pitched in."
Kael unwrapped it carefully, his fingers trembling as he lifted the lid. Inside lay a sleek, brand-new phone. Not the latest model, not a luxury brand—but it was his. His own.
A gasp caught in his throat. He had never owned a phone of his own before. Despite living in this grand estate, surrounded by wealth, his stepmother had never allowed him such things. A distraction, she had called it. A privilege you don't deserve.
Yet here it was—bought with care, with sacrifice, from those who had so little.
Maria then placed another box in front of him, smaller but no less meaningful. "This one's from me," she whispered.
Inside was a watch—simple, elegant, and chosen with love.
Kael swallowed hard, his vision blurring. His fingers curled around the watch, and in that instant, a flood of memories surged back—memories of a time when love had not been something he had to search for.
He could still see her—his mother, Seraphine, the true lady of the house.
She had always made his birthdays magical, filling the halls with light and laughter, showering him with gifts—not out of duty, but because she wanted to see his joy. She had been his warmth, his home, his anchor.
But she was gone.
And in her absence, the house had grown cold.
A choked sob tore from his throat. He clenched the watch, tears slipping down his cheeks before he could stop them.
Maria was at his side in an instant, wrapping her frail arms around him. "Oh, my boy…" Her voice trembled, thick with unshed grief. "You don't have to hold it in. Not today."
The other maids, their faces crumpling with emotion, reached out to him, offering silent comfort. One by one, they wiped at their own eyes, unable to stop the ache that filled the room.
Kael buried his face in Maria's shoulder, gripping onto her like he used to when he was a child. For the first time in years, he allowed himself to grieve—not just for his mother, but for everything he had lost.
For the father who had abandoned him.
It no longer felt like home.
For the boy he used to be before the world had turned so cruel.
Yet amid his sorrow, he realized something.
He was not completely alone.
Not when Maria and the others were here, holding onto him just as tightly as he held onto them.
The sudden ring of Maria's phone interrupted the warmth of the celebration. The small device buzzed against the wooden table, cutting through the quiet sobs and lingering emotions.
Maria's breath hitched. For a fleeting moment, hope flickered in her aging eyes. She glanced at Kael, her lips parting slightly as if to say—Maybe… maybe he remembered.
Hands trembling, she answered the call. "Sir Lucien?"
Kael straightened. His heart pounded, his tears forgotten in an instant.
"Did he… remember?"
Maria swallowed hard, her fingers gripping the phone as if bracing herself. But then, the words that came through the receiver shattered whatever fragile hope had formed in her heart.
"Have the maids clean out our rooms. Prepare a feast. Evelyn and Aldric will be returning tonight," Lucien's deep, authoritative voice commanded. "Make sure it's grand."
Maria's lips pressed into a thin line. Her knuckles turned white.
"And," Lucien continued, "make sure the menu has all of Evelyn and Aldric's favorites."
Maria's stomach twisted. She already knew what that meant. Shellfish. Almond dishes. Heavy creams.
Allergens.
All of them are dangerous for Kael.
She squeezed her eyes shut. No mention of Kael. No question about how he was doing. No acknowledgment that today was his birthday.
Just orders. Just Evelyn. Just Aldric.
Just as always.
Maria forced her voice steady. "Yes, Sir Lucien."
The line went dead.
Her hand slowly lowered, and she placed the phone on the table with a quiet thud.
Kael had been watching her, his sharp eyes catching every micro-expression, every subtle shift in her demeanor.
"Maria," he called gently, "what did he say?"
Maria hesitated. The weight of disappointment sat heavily on her chest, but she didn't want to ruin this moment for him. Not today.
She turned to him and mustered a weak smile. "It's nothing, child."
Kael frowned. He wasn't a fool. He could see it in the way her fingers trembled slightly, in the way the light in her eyes had dimmed.
"Maria…" he said again, softer this time.
She reached over, patting his hand. "Come now," she murmured. "Let's just savor this moment, hmm?"
Her voice was warm, but he could hear the ache underneath.
Kael didn't push further. He glanced at the flickering candle wax on his barely eaten cake, at the simple but meaningful gifts in front of him, and at the people who had given him more love in one morning than his father had in years.
He then breathed out and smiled—not because he wasn't injured, but to hide the depth of his injury from them.
"Yeah," he said. "Let's."
Kael let out a satisfied sigh as he pushed his plate away, flashing a small, grateful smile at the maids who had gathered around him. The modest feast, filled with laughter and warmth, was a rare moment of joy in his otherwise hollow life. He wished it could last longer, but reality always had a way of pulling him back.
Maria, ever watchful, noticed the shift in his demeanor as he glanced. "You should get ready, child," she said gently. "You don't want to be late."
Kael nodded, standing up and straightening his uniform—a crisp white shirt tucked into dark slacks, paired with a navy blazer embroidered with the school's emblem. His outfit proclaimed wealth and prestige, reminding everyone that, despite his treatment in this house, the outside world still considered him Lucien Ferris's son.
Not that it mattered. He had learned long ago that status meant nothing without love.
The maids began clearing the table, carefully wrapping up leftovers as Maria stacked plates. She turned just in time to see Kael grab his new watch and phone from the table, his fingers brushing over them one last time before pocketing them.
She smiled, though sadness lingered in her eyes. At least he has this.
Kael slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way to the door, but before stepping out, he paused. He turned back to the women who had spent the morning making him feel wanted, his gaze landing on Maria.
"…Thank you," he said, his voice quieter, heavier with meaning.
Maria wiped her hands on her apron and stepped forward, cupping his cheek with her wrinkled hand. "You don't have to thank us, Master Kael," she whispered. "You deserve so much more."
Kael swallowed hard and nodded, forcing a small smirk to mask the ache in his chest. "I'll be back later. Don't work too hard."
Maria chuckled. "You know us."
He shook his head with a knowing smile. "That's what I'm worried about."
As he stepped outside, the morning sunlight hit his face, warm and golden, but it didn't quite reach the chilly space in his heart. He adjusted his bag and started walking toward the waiting car.
Behind him, Maria and the other maids quietly watched until he disappeared, before sighing and returning to their tasks—cleaning up the remnants of a celebration that, for them, was the only genuine joy in this house.
The day had been long.
From the moment Kael stepped into school, it had been nothing but lectures, assessments, and the hum of students weaving their little worlds of friendships and camaraderie—worlds he never quite felt part of. He had gone through the motions, answering when called, nodding when necessary, all while the weight of the morning lingered in his chest.
Now, as he sat in the car, the city drifted past his window in a blur of lights and towering structures; the sky was painted in hues of burnt orange and deep indigo.
Centris's capital was a marvel of magic and innovation, an ever-expanding metropolis where tradition and the arcane intertwined seamlessly. The skyline stretched infinitely, lined with glass towers embedded with floating glyphs, their runes pulsing with energy. Suspended bridges wove through the air, upheld by gravity-defying enchantments, while sky-trams zipped above, carrying passengers across the city with effortless grace.
At street level, luminescent signboards hovered midair, advertising everything from arcane weaponry to ethereal garments. Magitech drones, small and spherical, patrolled the city with unwavering precision, ensuring law and order.
And amidst it all, citizens walked freely under the glow of floating lanterns, each one carrying a flickering flame imbued with protective wards.
It was beautiful—undeniably so. Yet, to Kael, it felt distant. Like a dream he wasn't part of.
The city thrived, brimming with life and promise, but for him, there was no promise waiting at home.
A soft chime from the car's navigation system pulled him from his thoughts. "We have arrived at the Ferris Estate," the driver announced.
Kael exhaled. The vehicle slowed, the hum of its engine fading as the mansion's grand iron gates opened before them.
Even now, after all these years, the estate still failed to feel like home.
The car glided through the stone-paved driveway, flanked by towering statues and pristine gardens too perfect to be real. Ahead: An imposing structure of marble and glass, the mansion loomed ahead, its design immaculate yet lifeless.
The grand windows reflected the dimming sky, its tall columns casting elongated shadows across the courtyard.
The engine cut off. Kael remained still for a moment, staring at the massive double doors before him.
A home was supposed to feel warm.
This? This was just a house.
Wordlessly, he stepped out of the car, his shoes clicking against the pavement as he walked toward the entrance. The air carried the faint scent of evening dew, yet the looming estate felt as cold as ever.
He reached for the handle, pausing briefly as his fingers brushed against the polished brass.
Beyond these doors, Evelyn and Aldric had returned. His father, Lucien, was likely home, too.
The weight in his chest grew heavier.
With a slow inhale, Kael pushed the door open and stepped inside.