With each step the man took closer, the tingling sensation on my skin intensified.
It was a feeling I had never experienced before.
âThis is strange.â
At first, I thought it was due to wind magic. But no, that wasnât it.
The man who had impersonated my half-brother had claimed to be a wind mage, though I never confirmed if it was true.
I didnât know any other wind mages besides myself, so I couldnât be certain about what was happening.
Still, this prickling sensation on my skin didnât seem to stem from magic. It felt like something far more primal, akin to the watermills or unease you get from instinct.
âThis is confusing.â
Though unnatural winds swirled around the manâs body, there was no killing intent in them.
The gusts seemed to escape and lash out on their own accord, as though they were wild.
As he drew nearer, the wind around him grew fiercer.
At first, it only stirred up dust, but soon, branches snapped, and flower petals were torn free, carried aloft in the air.
The falling petals and broken branches left a messy trail behind him, like a path of ruined beauty.
What should I do?
I couldnât discern whether this man was friend or foe.
Suddenly, a memory of my motherâs words from when I was three or four years old surfaced in my mind:
[It doesnât matter who they are or what their intentions may be. If someone unknown approaches, prepare to kill them first.]
I took a deep breath and shifted my weight to my lower body, readying myself.
Pulling the axe from my back, I prepared for whatever was to come.
I wasnât sure of the proper way to fight a wind mage, but my mother had always emphasized one thing:
Kill them before they attack.
Even though my mother couldnât use a speck of magic herself, that single philosophy had made her the strongest in this world.
âMage, dragon, phoenixâno one is faster than my mother.â
Before I left home, my mother admitted that she could no longer hold me back, but I knew that was her bias as a parent.
Even though I could use wind to move faster than most, my mother was still quicker. If she ever came at me with the intent to kill, I wouldnât stand a chance.
If she struck, it would be over in an instant. No matter how strong I was, it wouldnât matter if I couldnât react in time.
In that moment, my head would already be rolling on the ground.
Physically, my mother was a genius among geniuses.
âAlright, Iâll kill him the moment I sense killing intent.â
Even if I didnât sense it, I resolved to act at the first sign of unnatural wind movement. Any unfamiliar action, and my axe would fly.
I tightened my grip on the axe, my body coiled like a spring.
But then, the man stopped a short distance away.
He stood still, observing me, and then spoke.
âImpressive... Your stance is excellent. No wasted movement. Itâs optimized for real combat. Helga taught you well.â
ââ¦.â
Helga? My mother?
Could he be an acquaintance of hers?
But something felt off.
The manâs accent and manner of speaking werenât those of a commoner. He spoke like a nobleârefined and precise, much like my father.
While Endesâs ruling family, the Pauls, also spoke with noble intonation, this manâs mannerisms reminded me far more of my fatherâs.
It wasnât impossible for my mother to have noble acquaintances, but this man spoke the language of the kingdom. My mother couldnât even use the kingdomâs language fluently.
The pieces didnât fit.
Whatâs more, there was something peculiar about his voice. It sounded as though he was holding back tears.
The longer he remained silent, the more convinced I became that he was struggling not to cry. His hood trembled slightly, as if betraying his emotions.
âWhatâs going on?â
At the very least, he didnât seem to be an enemy.
Now that I thought about it, the tingling sensation on my skin had lessened considerably. It was still faintly present, but the overwhelming intensity I felt earlier had faded.
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The man adjusted his posture and cleared his throat before speaking again.
âBe mindful of what you just felt. That sensation is something only those with the same eyes can experience.â
As he spoke, the man removed his hood.
The first thing that caught my attention was his platinum hair, gleaming in the sunlight.
And then, his eyesâbrilliant purple, like jewels set into his face.
His facial features, from his sharp nose to the curve of his lips and the angle of his jaw, bore an uncanny resemblance to someone I knew well.
ââ¦.â
Would my father look like this when he grows old?
He resembled my father. The likeness was undeniable.
Anyone who saw him would immediately recognize them as family.
âCould it beâ¦â I murmured.
The manâs eyes narrowed slightly, and a faint smile appeared.
âEven your voice resembles your fatherâs.â
That confirmed it. This man was my grandfather.
Unintentionally, my jaw dropped. I probably looked like an utter fool, as if my brain had shut down completely.
When my fatherâs personal butler had appeared earlier, it had felt like dealing with a minor character.
Typically, when minor characters appear, you expect a mid-tier boss to follow.
But this? This was like skipping straight to the final boss.
It had been over twenty years since my father was taken by my mother.
She had killed his wife, lovers, and even the ducal familyâs search parties repeatedly.
No matter how much I shared my fatherâs blood, there had to be lingering resentment.
To make matters worse, I was the spitting image of my mother. Just looking at me must have reminded him of everything my father had suffered.
If it were me, Iâd feel the same way.
The fact that he appeared here, alone and without guards, suggested he wasnât hostile. But I was still someone he had every reason to despise.
So why did he come looking for me?
The ducal family surely wasnât lacking in heirs to continue the bloodline.
Unable to grasp his intentions, I didnât know how to react. I stood there, frozen, until the man finally broke the silence.
âI am your grandfather.â
I already knew.
âDid your father ever mention me?â
He seemed intent on speaking like a normal grandparent.
ââ¦.â
The request for the phoenix feather must have come from the ducal family.
I wasnât sure what their motives were, and that scared me a little.
But since he wasnât bringing up old grudges, I decided it was better to play along for now and avoid creating unnecessary tension.
I returned the axe to my back and bowed deeply.
It wasnât a gesture that matched my rugged attire, but for a noble, it was appropriate.
âForgive my late introduction, Grandfather. I am Rafa. I was raised solely as the child of Klaus and Helga and have heard little about my fatherâs origins. My apologies.â
A subtle way of saying, Donât blame me for my parentsâ actions.
The Duke, Ferdinand Valther, chuckled softly.
âThereâs no need to be so guarded. While it cannot yet be made public, you are my blood. Today, I came simply as a grandfather wishing to meet his grandson.â
â¦Is that so?
What about all the grudges left by those my mother killed?
My expression must have betrayed my thoughts, as the Duke smiled and began walking toward the garden.
âCome with me. Time is short, and there are things I wish to tell you. Let us hurry.â
In the garden stood a small table, surrounded by windbreaks to shield it from the breeze. A blanket lay draped over a chair, presumably to ward off the cold.
Clearly, the meeting had been carefully arranged.
But as we walked toward the table, the winds swirling around the Duke continued to scatter dust and debris, wreaking havoc on the pristine garden.
Even with the windbreaks, I doubted the area would remain intact.
âItâs a troublesome thing,â the Duke admitted with a wry smile. âMeeting you has stirred my emotions, and I find myself unable to control it. Despite my reputation for perfection as a mage.â
When we reached the table, he gestured toward the air around me, drawing patterns with his fingers. Then he looked at me intently.
âYou have a flow of wind within you. Are you controlling it right now?â
âYes.â
âDo you always control it?â
âYes. Father instructed me always to let the wind flow, even slightly, and Iâve done so since I was a child.â
âInteresting.â
His purple eyes narrowed, and the corners of his lips lifted in a faint smile.
âIt must have been difficult. Klaus can be harsh at times.â
ââ¦.â
It wasnât difficult at all.
When a child learns to walk, they fall countless times. But once they master it, walking becomes second nature.
Likewise, controlling the wind had become second nature to me.
If anything, the real challenge was that I had focused so much on control that I struggled to unleash its full power when needed.
When I explained this, Grandfather stared at me for a moment, then burst into laughter.
For a brief moment, the winds around him surged wildly, but they gradually calmed as his laughter subsided. It seemed he had consciously reined them in.
âTo be shackled from birth and not even realize the weightâthat explains much about how Klaus raised you.â
Though his words made my father sound like a tyrant, it hadnât felt that way to me. There had been no shackles.
âSit down. Time is short, so let me teach you how to use the wind. For most, learning control is the hardest part, but since youâve already mastered that, the rest should be easy.â
The Dukeâs expression softened briefly.
âKlaus couldnât use magic, so he wouldnât have been able to teach you these techniques. Even if he had wanted to.â
He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, his gaze steady.
âMages each use wind in their own way. Usually, a master teaches their method, and the student adapts it to suit themselves.â
He extended his hand across the table.
Was he asking for mine?
When I placed my hand in his, he held it gently and spoke.
âFeel the flow of my wind.â
As he said this, a delicate breeze tickled my palm, gradually spreading outward.
ââ¦.â
I wasnât sure what he wanted me to grasp.
Letting wind flow was something I already did.
The principle seemed the same whether using great power or creating a gentle breeze.
The Duke must have noticed my confusion because he smiled faintly and allowed the wind to flow again.
âFocus. When you first saw me, you felt something unusual, didnât you? A tingling sensation, as if the air itself was moving.â
ââ¦.â
âThat is a feeling only those with purple eyes can experience. Focus on that sensation and feel the wind Iâm letting flow.â
Following his instructions, I concentrated on the wind against my palm.
At first, there was nothing.
But as I continued, I began to sense faint, almost imperceptible bursts, like tiny sparks in the air.
If he hadnât told me to look for them, I wouldnât have noticed. They were so subtle that I almost doubted they were real.
Yet, once I felt one, I began to detect othersâtiny pulses of energy scattered through the air.
There was something there, mingling with the wind.
A chill ran down my spine.
Walter tightened his grip on my hand.
âDo you understand?â
ââ¦.â
I didnât know what it was, but I was certain it wasnât something ordinary people could sense.
Swallowing nervously, I asked, âDoes this⦠mean something? The purple eyes?â
The Duke smiled.
âYes, they mean something. Purple eyes are the mark of the spirits.â
Spirits?
Here we goâfull-blown fantasy.
Maybe it was time to seriously consider the possibility that I had been reincarnated into a novel.