The sun was high in the sky, casting its light throughout the southern prairie that involved the Raelthorne’s lands.

  As the carriage came to a halt, Colin stepped out. His boots landed heavily against the ground, making a thud that echoed all around.

  The air here smelled of freshly tilled soil and sea salt from the nearby coast.

  This was home.

  He honestly couldn’t believe he survived. He couldn’t believe he would feel such an intense sun again, feel such peace after being powerless like that. The day in the dungeon had etched into his mind, his perception skewed and it felt like he spent much more inside that place than in actuality.

  Now, he was safe though. His lips curled into a small smile as he saw his family’s mansion.

  “Lord Colin,” a voice interrupted his thoughts. It was Mira, one of the estate’s senior servants, standing near the grand entrance with a hesitant expression. She was older, her hair streaked with gray, but her eyes were sharp and watchful. “Miss Raelthorne unfortunately had matters in a nearby city, so we are alone here. Would you like me to get you what you need?” she said, bowing.

  Colin waved his hand dismissively. “Thank you, Mira, but I want to see the village first.”

  Mira straightened, her eyes widening and blinking a few times in surprise. “The village, my lord?”

  “Yes. It’s been too long since I’ve walked those streets. I want to see how things are,” he said with a small smile.

  Mira seemed to hesitate, clearly uneasy, but she nodded. “Very well, my lord. Shall I accompany you?”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  In the past, Colin had been a troublemaker. A noble kid with too much power, and too little discipline. He was rampant, treated those below him harshly, and made sure to always get what he wanted.

  After losing to Erik in such a way, he was forced to swallow his pride for the first time in his life.

  A smile curled on his lips as he remembered those recent, yet distant days. He managed to have friends from all walks of life, status wasn’t important anymore, and now he could feel some type of happiness he never did before.

  Colin just wished that change had happened sooner.

  As they made their way down a dirt path leading away from the estate, the village came into view. It was nestled within the southern prairie, its modest houses built from sturdy timber and stone with thatched roofs.

  Fields of wheat and barley surrounded the settlement, their golden hues swaying gently in the breeze. It wasn’t even summer yet, and it seemed like the crops were almost ready to be harvested. These were the fertile soils of the south, they made crops with such quickness and quantity that even villages with less than a thousand people, nestled between the coast and the other major lords could be an economic powerhouse.

  After some more walking, they eventually reached the village. Its center was simple, a small square with a well at its heart, surrounded by a handful of shops and a tiny chapel whose bell tower overlooked the surrounding homes. On the unpaved streets, villagers moved about their day, their clothes plain but practical for laboring work.

  Their faces carried the burden of the sun, red and dry.

  As the pair walked through the village, heads turned. Conversations faltered, and curious glances followed them. Colin was no stranger to such attention. In the past, it fed his pride, but now…

  Now he wasn’t sure what to feel anymore.

  Did the people see him as a human being? Did they see him as Colin, someone who until now was studying in the Magic Academy, or did they see him as the noble’s son? The same one that used to scold, belittle, and threaten those who wronged him.

  “M-My lord,” Mira whispered nervously as they passed a group of villagers loading sacks of grain onto a cart. “Perhaps it would be best if we avoided—”

  “Mira,” Colin stopped in his tracks. “Relax. I’m not here to cause trouble.”

  With that said, Colin kept on walking Then as he turned around the corner, one of the peasants bumped into him.

  The man staggered back, and a sack he carried dropped to the ground. A moment later, the man’s mouth went wide, his eyes widened, and he brought his hands to the front. “Forgive me, my lord!” he shouted before getting on his knees.

  Colin sighed as he watched that reaction.

  It was what he feared, despite the long time he hadn’t come here, his actions were still fresh, and things couldn’t be forgotten like that.

  “You can get up, I’m no ‘lord’,” Colin said, trying to sound casual before reaching out with his hand.

  The man didn’t say anything, his trembling gaze looking at Colin for a few moments before taking his hand and getting up.

  “Thank you, I—” he stopped as his gaze dawned on Colin’s right sleeve. That’s where his missing arm would’ve been, the villager was clearly taken aback by that. “I’m sorry, I was just delivering this grain to the windmill.”

  Colin glanced at the man’s hands. They were full of thick callouses and cracked skin. “Looks like hard work.”

  “It keeps us fed, sir.”

  Colin extended his hand. “Let me help you deliver that.”

  They each took hold of one side, the weight evenly distributed now. The strain lightened, and the man couldn’t help but glance at Colin with a mixture of gratitude and disbelief.

  Mira, who had been hovering nearby, tried to intervene. “Lord Colin, please, allow me—”

  “I’ve got this, Mira,” Colin interrupted her with a kind tone. “I’m stronger than I look.”

  She opened her mouth to protest again but, she didn’t say anything. Perhaps it was his determined expression or the fear of going against the young noble that kept her at bay but, either way, the disapproving expression remained.

  They carried the sack in silence for a moment before the man spoke. “I heard about what happened at the academy… and the dungeon. About you, my lord.”

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  Colin’s grip on the sack tightened briefly, though he managed to control it. “Word travels fast.”

  “Losing your arm like that... I can’t imagine. Yet, here you are, helping me.”

  Colin offered a faint smile. “Well, I can’t just watch.”

  Despite those words, however, Colin couldn’t help but question himself. He wasn’t so great or so brave.

  ‘If that’s true, then why did I leave them so suddenly?’

  At last, they reached the windmill, its weathered wooden blades creaking under the wind. Colin helped the man ease the sack down near the entrance. Straightening, the villager hesitated, glancing between Colin and the ground.

  “Thank you, my lord,” the man said, his voice subdued. “You didn’t have to.”

  “Maybe not,” he replied. “But I wanted to.”

  For a moment, the man just stared before he finally burst out laughing.

  “No offense sir, but…. you’re completely different than that brat, from before” he managed to say between his erratic laugh.

  A small smile grew on Colin’s face, he was happy to have changed.

  “You cannot disgrace the lord—”

  Mira tried to reprimand the peasant, but Colin simply shot his arm to the side, stopping her.

  “It's fine,” he said, turning to her. Her eyes widened, perhaps because of the smile he held. “I’m happy he thinks that way.”

  Afterward, the walk to the mansion was calm and peaceful. Colin decided to set foot on the grass, avoid the pathways already made, and enjoy the beauty of life.

  His servant followed him quietly. She wasn’t one to speak much to him unless prompted to, however, it was still rare to see one of the main servants of the family so quiet.

  That’s when she spoke.

  “You’ve changed, sir.”

  He sure hoped he did.

  Colin sat by the pond in the garden, watching as the small fish swam in erratic paths.

  In moments like this, when the world around him was quiet and still, he could hear his own thoughts, the ones he often tried to avoid. How much had changed? How much of the person he was before still lingered inside him?

  He reached down, running his fingers through the water, his gaze following the ripples. The boy who had walked these paths and ruled over the villagers with arrogance and cruelty felt like a stranger now.

  That didn’t mean he was completely different. Colin knew very well that those thoughts still lurked beneath the surface. He would have to keep his ego and pride in check to avoid them from resurfacing.

  He couldn’t escape his past, the people still remembered it. Now the only way forward was to create a future he was proud of.

  After a while of pondering, he shook his head not wanting to get lost in senseless thoughts.

  ‘Well, this only means I have to keep doing what I can.’

  He had been so excited coming home, he felt so good feeling the warm sun, and the grass, he felt so alive that for a moment he had forgotten the reason he even left the academy.

  Now, he was forced to remember it.

  Colin stood before the mirror, his gaze fixed on the shirt in his hands. His right arm—the one that had once been so capable—had been cut.

  With only his left hand, he struggled to pull the sleeves through, the fabric catching and twisting like an eel. His movements were clumsy and awkward. He sighed in frustration, staring at the half-fitted shirt as it hung lopsided on his frame.

  This was his life now, even menial tasks took much much longer since he lost his arm.

  This reminded him of that, that day.

  The dungeon, the screams, the moment he'd lost his arm.

  His mind never truly left that place, even though he hid it, the thought of it horrified him. What if, one day, that demon appeared again—targetting him to finish him off? He would be powerless.

  He gasped for air as knocks echoed on the door.

  "Milord? May I enter?" came a familiar voice.

  "Come in," Colin said, standing straight and trying to keep his composure.

  The door creaked open, and Mira stepped inside. She carried a tray with a steaming cup of tea and a plate of warm bread. Her gaze flicked towards Colin for a moment, perhaps taking in his disheveled state but said nothing.

  "I thought you might appreciate some refreshment," the servant said, setting the tray on a nearby table.

  Colin nodded, though he didn’t move toward the tray. Instead, he turned back to the mirror, gripping the shirt tightly in his left hand. "It's pathetic, isn't it?" he muttered. "I can't even put on a shirt without needing help."

  “Milord…” she said before walking closer to him, helping him get his clothes properly. “You’re having a hard time so don’t burden yourself like that. Relax for now,” she said with a comforting tone.

  Colin nodded, thankful for the help and words, although it was still a bit embarrassing.

  “Also, I’ve received confirmation that your sister is coming back today. Please ask if you need help getting ready.

  “I-It’s fine, you can leave, Mira,” Colin said, his voice quivering.

  His only sister…

  It was someone he didn’t plan to meet in a moment like this.

  The grand dining room of the Raelthorne estate felt too large, too quiet. Colin sat at one end of the long table, his plate untouched. At the other end, Evelyn leaned back in her chair, sipping her wine with the air of someone waiting for the right moment to strike.

  “So,” Evelyn finally broke the silence, setting her glass down with a soft clink. “Did they teach you how to cut pheasant with one hand at the academy, or do I need to hire a tutor for that, too?”

  Colin rolled his eyes, spearing a piece of meat with his fork. “I think I’ll manage without your expert advice, thanks.”

  “Could’ve fooled me,” she shot back, her lips curling into a smirk. “You’re still holding that fork like it’s a club.”

  “And you’re still talking like you shit,” Colin retorted. “Guess some things never change.”

  Evelyn laughed, the sound echoing on the ceiling above. “You’re right about that. Someone has to remind you what the Raelthorne name means, especially since you seem hell-bent on tarnishing it.”

  Colin’s breath caught in his throat.

  That was true. Once upon a time, the siblings had a big rivalry going between them, Evelyn was going to be the next family head—as is expected for the woman to rule anyway. That made Colin seek attention in other ways, proving he was capable.

  But now, he didn’t care so much anymore. In a way, the dungeon broke his fighting spirit—and that vanished the shackles made him want to prove he was worthy. Now he thought he certainly wasn't.

  However, now his sister was badmouthing him. He couldn’t let that go.

  Colin’s fork clattered onto his plate. “You think I don’t care? You think I don’t know how much I’ve screwed up? I’m trying, Evelyn! For once, could you stop being such a—”

  “Such a what?” Evelyn interrupted, arching an eyebrow. “A sister who tells it like it is? Sorry if I’m not giving you a pat on the back for surviving.”

  Colin stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. “Will you just shut up?!”

  Evelyn rose from her chair, crossing the room without saying a single word.

  She stopped in front of him, her expression shifting. Colin braced himself, his hand tightening and his eyes closing.

  She raised her arms. She was going to hit him, wasn’t she? That’s all he could think about.

  But then.

  Instead, Evelyn pulled him into a tight hug.

  “I remember when you couldn’t talk to me like that,” she muttered, her voice softer now.

  Colin froze for a moment before his anger melted away. “I-I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “For how I was. For everything. I just... I want to be useful for the family now, no more fights with you.”

  Evelyn tightened her grip, resting her chin on his shoulder. “You’re such an idiot,” she said, her words soft. “But you’re my idiot. And I’m proud of you for what you’ve accomplished, even if it kills me to admit it.”

  A shaky laugh escaped Colin as tears welled in his eyes. He clung to her, letting the weight of guilt and regret spill out in quiet sobs.

  “Just don’t screw it up,” Evelyn added, teasingly.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Colin muttered, sniffling. “I missed you too, you know.”

  “Obviously,” Evelyn replied, ruffling his hair like he was still ten years old. “Now sit down and finish your dinner before I start lecturing you.”

  This was Colin’s new beginning.