“Oh, so it’s normal.”

  Hope’s eyes widened as he skimmed the book on Tier 2 classes, leaning lazily against one of the library shelves.

  The book was packed with the usual noble nonsense — theories dressed in fancy words and dripping with self-importance. One claimed the mysterious “???” at the end was a divine placeholder bestowed only upon bloodlines of unbroken purity, the so-called “Chosen of the System”. Another insisted it was a veil of secrecy placed by ancient architects of fate, hidden until one’s soul resonance aligned with the world’s rhythm.

  A third argued, in painfully pompous language, that it marked a destined evolution beyond mortal comprehension, something only those “favoured by the stars and burdened by fate” could ever see through.

  Hope rolled his eyes.

  The only one that actually made sense said it was just a marker — the System’s way of saying there’s more out there, you just don’t meet the requirements yet.

  Still, flipping through the rest of the book, it became pretty clear the knowledge here wasn’t nearly as impressive as he’d expected from a noble family that had lived for generations. For starters, there wasn’t a single direct mention of Special classes at all. Just vague rumours, half-baked theories about “legendary individuals” who’d supposedly reached classes beyond the ordinary.

  The most recent example? Some Witch of Calamity — said to have wiped out entire knight squads alone and controlled three elements at once.

  Hope frowned. Maybe that was a Special class. Something that needed high Magika Handling across multiple types. Earth, Water, Air — the Matter triad, probably?

  Still, most of this sounded like the usual noble fluff. He’d take it all with a grain of salt.

  He closed the book with a dull thud, a small sigh slipping out as he leaned back. Would’ve been real nice to have Eve around right now — she’d probably know the answer in two seconds flat. He kinda missed that silent little ghost girl, to be honest.

  He slid the book back onto the shelf.

  At least now he knew it wasn’t some weird, world-breaking thing that only happened to him — unlike the whole Ascension Gate mess. He could just ask Gob or Selera once he got back on the ship. They probably knew more than all the libraries of this world combined. Made sense though — they’d flown the void, while these pompous nobles had been stuck here for centuries, and Outsiders didn’t exactly drop by often… or share much when they did.

  Now… what to do?

  When it came to his own growth, there was literally nothing else he could think of. He sure as hell wasn’t about to waste time grinding other Handling skills that gave no stats, just to see if more Special Classes were hiding out there. Whatever they were, they weren’t meant for him anyway. His Magika talent wasn’t scattered — it was focused.

  Which meant… there was really nothing left but to wait.

  For some reason, that thought left him feeling kind of empty. Every day until now had a purpose — a plan, a grind, something to chase. But now? For the next twenty days until the Game of Houses… he was free.

  Well… never thought this far ahead. Maybe…

  Then a sudden thought hit him — his heart kicked up, heat rushing to his cheeks.

  Well… I mean… yeah, why not?

  He could… ehm… ask her about Titus Weiss and clues about becoming his heir, right? So it’d totally count as working toward the mission. Yeah…

  He chuckled to himself.

  Who am I kidding?

  I just wanna see her. That’s it.

  A smile crept across his face, pulse still running fast as he headed out of the manor’s library. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to dress up or wait for that fancy carriage that took three damn days to reach the Marshes.

  Let’s prepare some ‘very’ nice excuses.

  “Welcome to the—”

  The attendant froze mid-greeting, eyes widening as recognition struck. The rest of the words died in his throat.

  Hope had barely stepped off the winged antler before the poor man let out a strangled sound and bolted toward the manor, shouting at the top of his lungs, “The Heir of Barion! The Heir of Barion has arrived!”

  Another attendant — younger, pale as parchment — remained frozen in place. His hands trembled as he bowed low, voice unsteady. “L-Lord Hope Barion, welcome to House Kael… and the Verdant Marshes. Please forgive our… lack of preparation.”

  Hope’s lips twitched faintly before he schooled them into something more proper. “It’s quite alright. I did arrive unannounced.”

  The young man swallowed hard. “Th-thank you, my lord.”

  Hope looked around the estate — damp stone paths winding through still pools, moss creeping up pale foundations, the air thick with warmth and the soft hum of unseen life.

  Then, from the distance, came the sharp rhythm of metal striking stone.

  Then a blur of motion broke through the mist and landed in front of them, soft thud echoing on the terrace.

  Sir Tolan Kael straightened from his crouch, breathing only slightly heavy. His training leathers were darkened with sweat, two wooden practice swords crossed over his back. Even mid-session, the young man somehow looked composed — annoyingly so.

  “Hope,” Tolan said, brushing a damp strand from his brow. His tone was calm, polite — and just casual enough to feel familiar. “Didn’t expect the skies to deliver you this early.”

  Hope grinned. “Yeah, figured I’d skip rotting three days in a carriage. Guess I gave your attendants a heart attack instead.”

  Tolan’s lips curved, eyes glinting. “You might’ve. One nearly ran straight into the pond.”

  Hope chuckled under his breath. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Tolan laughed softly, shaking his head. “Next time, at least send a hawk first — save my attendants a few years of life.”

  Hope smirked. “I’ll think about it… no promises, though.”

  Tolan stepped forward, offering a hand. “Well then, Hope Barion, welcome to the Verdant Marshes and the Kael State. My Father and Mother will want to see you for dinner, but until then, make yourself at home.”

  Hope shook his hand, casual. “Good. Saves me from pretending I’m here for the scenery.”

  A smirk crept up Tolan’s face. “Right. Scenery. You mean my sister, don’t you?”

  Hope blinked, coughed, looked away. “...I’ll neither confirm nor deny that.”

  Tolan’s laugh was bright and knowing as he clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, then. Let’s not keep the scenery waiting.”

  Hope coughed again, eyes pointedly elsewhere.

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  Tolan led him through a long corridor lined with pale-green banners and polished stone floors that reflected the afternoon light. The manor felt alive — vines curled across pillars, water trickled softly beneath grated floors, and faint music carried from a garden somewhere beyond.

  They stopped before a tall set of doors carved with silver filigree and deer motifs. Two attendants pushed them open, revealing a room large enough to fit a small feast hall. The air smelled faintly of flowers and damp moss.

  The chamber was ridiculous — a silk-draped canopy bed, velvet seats by the window, and a marble bath sunk into the floor beside a steaming copper kettle. It was even fancier than his quarters back in the Barion States.

  Tolan smiled, spreading a hand. “Make yourself comfortable. Elayne’s getting ready to receive you.” He gave a small, knowing grin. “But you know how ladies are — if she’s done within the hour, I’ll assume the stars realigned.”

  Hope huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Tolan inclined his head politely. “Servants will bring fresh clothes, water, and a light tray of refreshments. Dinner’s at dusk.” Then, with an easy smile, he added, “It’s good to have you here, Hope — been a while since we’ve had proper company our age.”

  Hope nodded with a faint smile.

  When the door finally shut behind him, he stretched until his back popped. Ten hours riding the winged antler through shifting winds and cloud currents had left his spine still humming and his butt itching.

  “Worth it, though,” he muttered, leaning back against the wall. The image of Elayne’s smile flickered across his mind — bright, a little shy, and beautiful in all the right ways.

  He breathed out through his nose, then caught a whiff of himself. One sniff was enough to make him grimace. “Bloody hell… I smell like the winged beast itself.”

  With a resigned sigh, he rolled his shoulders and glanced at the marble bath. “Guess I should take a proper bath before the meet-up.”

  Hope gulped down.

  By the time he stepped into the reception hall, the fading daylight poured through tall glass panes, scattering golden light across the polished floor. And there she was — Elayne Kael — waiting near the window.

  Her dress was a soft blue, the exact shade of her eyes. The fabric shimmered faintly as she turned, delicate earrings catching the light. Her blonde hair had been brushed smooth and pinned to one side, a few loose strands framing her face.

  For a heartbeat, Hope forgot how to breathe.

  She smiled when she saw him — small at first, then brighter, her cheeks tinting red. “You actually came,” she said, her voice carrying that same quiet warmth he remembered.

  Hope rubbed the back of his neck, grinning awkwardly. “Yeah, well… figured I’d see if the Marshes were really as blue as everyone says.”

  Her laugh came out soft, caught somewhere between amusement and confusion. “Blue?”

  “I mean—green!” Hope cleared his throat, ears burning.

  Elayne blinked, then smiled — slow, knowing, and just a touch mischievous. “Of course. Must be the reflection, then.”

  Hope opened his mouth to reply, realised what she meant, and promptly looked anywhere but at her eyes. “Right. Reflection. That’s—uh—very possible.”

  She giggled, covering her mouth with her hand, the sound bright and genuine.

  Then Tolan’s voice cut in, light and teasing. “Well, since Hope already gave you a tour of Barion, I suppose it’s only fair you return the favour, sister.”

  Elayne shot him a look that could’ve melted glass, but Tolan only grinned wider. “I’ll leave you two to it, then.”

  As he disappeared down the corridor, the air seemed to quiet around them. Hope exhaled slowly, pulse still drumming somewhere beneath his ribs.

  Elayne tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her eyes flicking up to meet his before darting away again. “It’s been a while,” she said softly.

  “Yeah—eight days and a half… I mean, yeah, a while,” Hope caught himself, voice tripping over the words.

  Elayne’s laugh was light and melodic — the kind that made the corners of Hope’s mouth lift without him meaning to.

  “You were counting?” she teased, eyes glimmering.

  Hope shrugged, trying for casual but failing to hide the small smile tugging at his mouth. “Maybe. Hard not to when the days get dull without someone lecturing me about manners.”

  She gasped in mock offence. “I did not lecture you.”

  “You did,” he said, grinning. “Twice. And you frowned the same way your brother does when he’s trying not to laugh.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “You’re very observant.”

  Hope tilted his head, smile turning sly. “When the target’s this beautiful, it’s hard not to be.”

  Her eyes flicked up at that — bright, startled, and maybe a little thrilled — before she quickly looked toward the corridor. “We should… um, start the tour.”

  Hope smirked, tucking his hands behind his back to look a little more composed than he felt. “Right. The grand tour of House Kael. Lead on, Lady Elayne.”

  She rolled her eyes, though the faint smile didn’t leave her face. “You don’t have to call me that.”

  “Then I’ll just call you Elayne,” he said lightly. “Feels more… fitting.”

  Her cheeks turned pink again, but she pretended not to hear him and started down the corridor. Hope fell into step beside her, matching her pace as they moved through long marble halls lined with oil paintings and vases carved from pale green stone.

  Light spilled in through tall windows, reflecting off the water channels that wound beneath the manor, filling the air with soft ripples of gold and green.

  “It’s… peaceful,” Hope said after a moment, his voice softer now. “Kinda like the air’s always half-asleep.”

  Elayne smiled at that, glancing sideways at him. “Most people just say it’s humid.”

  “Yeah, well,” Hope said with a grin, “most people aren’t me.”

  She gave a quiet laugh, and Hope felt, for once, that all those hours listening to Selera’s fancy rhymes finally had a use.

  Soon, they stepped out onto a terrace overlooking the marshes. The air outside was warm and damp. Mist curled around the waterways like slow-moving silk, and the fading light painted the surface in shifting shades of gold and green.

  Hope leaned on the railing, looking out across the vast, glimmering green. “You weren’t kidding. It’s beautiful out here.”

  Elayne glanced at him — the way the light hit his face, the easy grin, the way he seemed both out of place and perfectly at home. Her voice came softer than she intended. “It is.”

  Hope turned his head, catching her gaze just as she looked away again, cheeks flushing.

  He smiled faintly, heart doing that annoying fast thing again. “You know… there’s a trick to make the view even better.”

  She blinked. “A trick?”

  “Yeah.” His grin widened. “Ever tried seeing it from above?”

  Before she could answer, a soft hum filled the air around Hope.

  A faint wind coiled at his feet, rising in spirals that lifted the edges of his shirt and tousled his hair. The breeze thickened, circling him like a living thing — the telltale shimmer of Air Gear flickering faintly around his form.

  Elayne’s eyes widened. “You’re not serious.”

  Hope’s grin didn’t falter. “Oh, I’m dead serious.” He lifted a hand toward her, palm open. “Come on — I’ll show you what the Verdant Marshes really look like.”

  She hesitated, glancing toward the manor’s balconies. “People might see…”

  Hope tilted his head, voice lowering though the air still swirled around them. “If you spend your time worrying about what other pomp—” he caught himself, smiling faintly, “—what others think, you’ll never really enjoy any of it.”

  Elayne blinked, startled at first, then a small laugh slipped out — quiet and warm. “You really are weird.”

  “Yeah,” he said, still holding out his hand, “but the kind of weird that makes your heart beat faster… right?”

  Her cheeks flushed deep red, eyes widening as her breath caught.

  For a moment, she didn’t move. Then she exhaled softly — a quiet, uncertain sound — and placed her hand in his.

  Hope’s grin deepened as he drew her closer, one arm sliding gently around her waist. The air around them thickened, gathering strength, until the ground itself seemed to fall away.

  “Hold on tight,” he murmured.

  Then they lifted.

  Wind rushed past — cool, wild, alive — as the two of them rose above the manor.

  The marshes spread beneath like an endless sea of green and silver, mist drifting in waves that shimmered in the dying light. The spires of House Kael pierced through the haze, their reflections rippling across the water far below.

  Elayne gasped, laughter bubbling out before she could stop it. “Hope—this is—!”

  He turned his head, grin tugging at his mouth. “Nice, right?”

  She met his eyes, breathless and bright. “Yes.”

  Hope’s grin deepened. The air surged around them as he leaned forward, and Air Gear obeyed — a sudden updraft lifting them higher, faster, the manor shrinking beneath their feet.

  Elayne gave a startled cry, clutching at his arm. “Hope! My dress—!”

  “Then hold on tight, my lady!” he shouted over the wind, laughter bursting out of him.

  The breeze roared as they soared above towards the clouds, mist curling and scattering in their wake. Her hair streamed behind her like pale fire, and for a moment she looked weightless — half laughter, half disbelief.

  Then she gave up pretending to care. The corners of her mouth broke, and she started laughing — helplessly, freely, as if nothing below could ever touch them again.

  Hope laughed too, the sound raw and real, blending with hers until the sky itself seemed to echo it back.

  They spun once, twice, cutting through ribbons of cloud and light. The marshes stretched endlessly beneath them — silver waterways, green islands, and the golden edge of the sinking sun.

  And for the first time in a long while, they weren’t Young Lord Hope Barion or Lady Elayne of House Kael.

  Just two teenagers, caught in the wind, laughing like the world below had never mattered at all.

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