Chapter 151: The Weight of a Name

Evelyne did not answer immediately.

The silence in the garden stretched between them, broken only by the soft movement of water in the fountain and the occasional rustle of leaves. Andras waited without impatience. He had learned long ago that forcing answers from her never worked. She spoke when she chose to speak.

Her gaze remained fixed on the faintly glowing surface of the water. For a moment it was as if she were no longer seeing the garden at all.

---

She was fifteen again.

The training hall of the Veyne estate was cold that morning. The stone floor still held the chill of the night, and pale light filtered through the tall windows. Evelyne stood alone in the center of the hall, eyes closed. For several days she had felt something restless moving inside her—mana that had always been present, yet never fully under her control.

This time, it answered.

Frost spread beneath her feet. A perfect circle of ice expanded across the stone, followed by thin crystalline patterns that raced up the walls. The temperature dropped so sharply that she could see her own breath. She opened her eyes. The frost moved with her will. She raised one hand, and a layer of ice climbed the nearest pillar.

Her eyes widened.

Frost Dominion.

An S-Rank talent.

For several seconds she simply stared at her hands. Then a rare, unguarded smile appeared on her face. She turned and ran from the training hall without bothering to dispel the frost.

Her parents were in the sitting room. Count Theron Veyne was reviewing documents while Lady Marianne Veyne sat nearby with a cup of tea. The moment Evelyne rushed inside, both looked up.

"Father! Mother!"

Theron lowered the paper. "What happened?"

"I awakened my talent. Frost Dominion. It’s S-Rank."

The room fell silent. Marianne slowly stood. Theron’s expression shifted—first surprise, then unmistakable pride. He stepped forward and placed both hands on Evelyne’s shoulders.

"Do you understand what you’ve awakened?"

She nodded. Her father laughed, a genuine sound she rarely heard. That evening the Veyne estate felt warmer than it had in years. Wine was brought out. Servants prepared a feast. Her parents celebrated with her, speaking excitedly about her future. For those few hours, Evelyne felt nothing but happiness. She was their daughter. Their pride. Their hope.

The next morning, her father summoned her to his study.

The warmth was gone.

Theron sat behind his desk, several documents arranged neatly before him.

"You are to be engaged to the heir of House Darkmoor," he said. "The Duke has already agreed. The formal arrangements will begin within the month."

Evelyne froze. "I only awakened yesterday."

"I know. And that is precisely why the opportunity must be seized now."

Her excitement from the previous night vanished at once.

"What opportunity?"

Theron leaned back slightly. "Your talent. An S-Rank does not remain unnoticed. House Veyne has served House Darkmoor for generations. We are respected within the duchy, but our position has always been limited. An alliance with House Darkmoor would change that."

He spoke as though explaining something obvious.

"You will become the wife of the Darkmoor heir. Our family’s standing will rise. Our influence will expand. Our future will be secured."

"You already contacted the Duke?"

"Yes."

The answer came without hesitation.

Evelyne’s face went pale. He had already decided. He had already spoken to the Duke. The engagement had already been arranged. Her opinion had never entered the discussion.

"What if I don’t want it?"

Theron was silent for a moment. Then he answered calmly.

"You will understand when you are older."

Evelyne lowered her gaze. She understood then. Not everything—but enough. Her talent had changed the way her family saw her. The night before, she had been their daughter celebrating an extraordinary gift. Now she was an S-Rank talent capable of raising the entire family. A valuable asset. A bargaining piece.

That night she sat alone in her room. Moonlight illuminated the frost gathering along the windowsill. She stared at it for a long time. The same frost that had felt like freedom only a day earlier now seemed meaningless. She pressed her hands against her face and cried silently.

She had not been a daughter that day.

She had been a price.

---

The memory faded.

Evelyne slowly exhaled. The garden returned around her—the fountain, the moonflowers, Andras sitting beside her. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter than before.

"Because a commoner would not have been sold."

Andras watched her profile. There was no self-pity in her voice. Only a resentment that had existed for so long it had become part of her.

"When my talent awakened at S-Rank, my family stopped seeing me as only a daughter. I became a resource. Something valuable enough to trade. The engagement to the Darkmoor heir was arranged almost immediately. I was never asked. I was simply informed that the decision had already been made."

Her gaze remained on the fountain.

"They used my talent as justification. An S-Rank could elevate the entire family. Marriage into House Darkmoor was the highest price they could demand. So they sold me."

Andras processed her words quietly. The explanation aligned with everything he knew about noble society. Talent of that level was never treated as merely personal. Power had value. Connections had value. And an S-Rank talent had enough value to influence the fate of an entire noble house.

Evelyne turned her head slightly.

"My parents weren’t cruel people. They loved me. But they were also nobles. They understood the value of power, connections, and status. When they saw what I had awakened, they saw an opportunity that might never appear again. So they used me to buy it."

Andras said nothing. There was no need to comfort her. She wasn’t asking for sympathy. She was simply telling him the truth.

After a moment he asked, "What happened afterward?"

Evelyne’s expression softened slightly.

"That is a story for another day."

Andras accepted the answer without pressing. There were clearly parts of her past she still wasn’t ready to discuss. He would let her decide when those stories were told.

After a brief silence, another thought came to him.

"Is that why you disliked Father’s decision regarding my engagement?"

Evelyne looked at him.

"Partly. When I learned that you had been engaged to Seraphina before you were even old enough to make that decision yourself, I remembered what happened to me. If you had met her and decided that you didn’t want that marriage, I would have cancelled it the next day."

Andras raised an eyebrow. "Even if it damaged the family’s reputation?"

"Yes." The answer came immediately. "I would not repeat what was done to me."

Andras studied her. There was something different in her expression now. Not the cold authority of the Duchess. Not the overwhelming presence of an S-Rank mage. Just his mother—someone who had once been a fifteen-year-old girl sitting in her father’s study, discovering that her future had already been decided for her.

After a long silence, Andras asked quietly,

"Do you still wish you had been born a commoner?"

Evelyne turned toward him fully. For several seconds she didn’t answer. Then she smiled.

"No."

Andras waited.

"Why?"

Her smile remained faint.

"Because if I had been born someone else..." She reached out and gently adjusted the collar of his coat. "I might never have become your mother."

The words settled between them. Andras met her eyes and did not look away. There was no dramatic emotion in the moment. No tears. No grand declaration. Only a quiet truth.

Evelyne’s hand lowered. She stood.

"You should rest."

Andras rose as well.

"And you?"

"I will stay a little longer."

He nodded.

"Good night, Mother."

"Good night, Andras."

She walked away first. Andras remained in the garden for a few moments, watching her figure disappear into the darkness of the estate.

The conversation had given him more than he expected. Not the full truth. Not even close. But enough to understand the shape of the woman who had raised him.

Evelyne had been born into a noble family. Her talent had given her extraordinary power. That same talent had also turned her into something her family could use to elevate themselves. And yet, despite everything that had happened, she had chosen not to repeat that cycle with him.

Andras turned toward the main residence. For once, his thoughts were quieter.

He returned to his chambers, closed the door, and sat on the edge of his bed.

He closed his eyes.

This time, sleep came easily.