Alex looked at the estate before him: a huge building stood amidst a garden and a fountain, with a path leading up to it. A closed gate blocked their way, and there was no one nearby to open it.
After a long pause, an old man appeared and hurried toward them with surprising urgency. His clothes billowed in the wind. His coat fluttered behind him like a banner.
As the old man drew closer, his features became clear. He was thin, almost frail, with a bald head and wrinkled face.
He hurriedly unlocked the gate and bowed low, his voice trembling with sincerity. "Forgive me, my lord, for making you wait."
Shane raised his right hand and said, "We just arrived. I hope you have kept the place clean."
The butler lifted his head, his face brimming with a joyful smile that revealed genuine pride. "My lord, I have kept it clean and made sure it is up to your standards." He was the same butler who had looked after Shane during his academy days. He knew Shane's standards well.
Shane nodded in satisfaction, a brief look of relief crossing his face before he masked it with composure. He made his way into the estate. Alex followed behind, glancing back at the carriage. The door was shut, and his mother and sister had not yet exited.
Since his mother had told him to go ahead, he decided to leave them alone for now. As he entered the estate, he noticed the well-kept garden with various designs. A fountain stood ahead at the center of the path, where a circular drive allowed carriages to exit the estate. Mana lamps filled the area with light; night had already descended.
He approached the fountain and saw maids and servants standing at the house's entrance.
When they saw Shane, they immediately bowed and said, "We welcome our lord and young master."
Alex was almost startled by their shout. It came out of nowhere, in a high-pitched voice, as if they wanted the whole world to know they had entered Silverine Estate.
Together, they stepped through the entrance and made their way inside the house.
Inside, the house resembled Drakethorne Palace, though it was smaller with a similar design. Everything was clean and orderly. Mana lamps illuminated the rooms, and chandeliers bathed them in pleasant light.
Alex asked, "So, this is where I'll stay while I study at the academy?"
Shane turned toward his son and saw excitement in his eyes, full of anticipation of the future. He felt conflicted inside to see his son so full of hope. "Indeed, but you will only visit it during holidays. All students stay at the academy hostel; only in a few exceptions are students allowed to stay in their own residence."
Alex nodded and thought to himself, "So, I'll be staying with others. That way, I'll have a chance to interact with new people. Yes, it's better that way."
Shane observed his son, noticing how his brows would sometimes rise and his eyes would dart from top right to top left. He did not disturb him and informed Butler to guide Alex.
He walked down the hallway and stopped at the entrance of the study room where he had spent his childhood days. He braced himself for the memories, knowing that only by facing them could he overcome the pain. The past is a place best not dwelled upon for long, yet everyone longs to revisit places that hold memories of the old days. The feelings may not always be pleasant and may leave one with melancholy, but it is necessary to understand the fleeting nature of life.
Shane entered his old study room. It was small compared to his current one, but it was beautiful to him and held many memories.
He entered and saw an old desk. Bending down, he noticed scribble marks he had made when he was around fourteen or fifteen years old. He traced his fingers along the bookshelves and checked—no dust had touched the books; the butler had done his work with meticulous care. He sat in the seat and felt like a little boy again. He remembered running around the study room while his grandfather shouted at him to study during the holidays.
Another memory surfaced: his own reflection, crying, when he found out his grandfather had died. He had cried the whole day in this room and dreaded losing his grandmother. As if fate did not want him to keep something close for himself, his grandmother died shortly after his grandfather's death; she was not able to cope without him.
He remembered seeing his grandmother lying on the bed with her eyes shut. Unlike with his grandfather's death, he was present this time. Overwhelmed by grief and loss, he cried all night in his bed that day.
His vision blurred as tears brimmed in his eyes. One drop escaped from his left eye, then slid down his cheek and landed on the desk, leaving a tiny, glistening mark on the old wood.
With a trembling hand, Shane touched the spot, feeling the tear beneath his fingertips.
He let out a shaky breath as the silence of the room pressed against his chest. Memories—painful, tender, and unspoken—crowded in, more vivid than ever. Inside the carriage, he'd barely managed to compose himself. Now, alone in the study, he could not hold back any longer. Slowly, tears began to fall down his face, each carrying grief, longing, and love for all he had lost.
A bittersweet smile flickered across his lips as he whispered to the empty room,
"I think I have become softer."
- - -
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