Chapter 24 – The Sinclair Family

A caravan of five carriages traveled from Urus toward Lumius.

The first was unmistakable: white and red, with a great sun painted on its door—the private carriage of the newly appointed Countess Ada Schubert.

Inside, Ada watched the scenery pass with barely restrained indignation. Ren, seated across from her, gazed out the window, deliberately ignoring the tension in the air. At his side, Yura Aseina wore a pristine white kimono, while across from her—next to Ada—sat Diana Fourchette.

“I thought it was supposed to be just the two of us…” Ada remarked, eyes fixed on Ren.

“Yes…” he answered calmly, “but I promised Yura she could meet my family. And we need Diana to help organize Lumius’ new administration.”

His words did little to ease Ada’s discomfort, but she said nothing more.

When the caravan entered Lumius, a restless murmur rippled through the streets like an echo. Heads leaned out from windows, merchants abandoned their stalls, and children ran ahead of the carriages to follow them.

After all, such a procession usually came only to collect taxes… and this wasn’t tax season.

Mirai, seated at the reins of the lead carriage, wore a flawless black tuxedo. With the measured grace of a butler, she stepped down and opened the door with a ceremonious gesture.

Ada was the first to descend, carrying herself with the poise and confidence her new title afforded. Behind her came Diana with serene composure, Yura with the calm of a perpetual winter… and finally Ren, whose eyes swept over the crowd as though searching for familiar faces from the past.

From the other carriages, young soldiers disembarked, still brimming with the restless energy of travel, alongside seasoned adventurers who traded curious looks with the townsfolk.

Ada stepped forward, her voice clear and commanding, carrying above the murmurs:

“Citizens of Lumius… my name is Ada Schubert, Countess of Urus. Accompanying me in this procession are…”

She turned slightly toward her companions and continued with solemn authority:

“The new Viscount of Lumius, Ren Sinclair; the Princess of Yukihana, Yura Aseina; and the Minister of Internal Affairs of Urus, Viscountess Diana Fourchette.”

The plaza, now packed, erupted into whispers. Some craned their necks for a better look, others rose on their toes to glimpse the newcomers.

From the back, the Sinclair family appeared, slowly making their way through the crowd. The villagers’ expressions flickered with a mixture of hope, curiosity, and disbelief.

Ada raised her hand, calling for silence. Her voice rang out, resonant and clear:

“Today, we are not here merely to announce titles, but to deliver news that will shape Lumius’ future. And for that, I yield the floor to the new Viscount.”

She gestured toward Ren with solemn grace. The murmurs gradually faded, until only the whisper of the wind remained.

Ren stepped forward. His eyes swept over the gathered crowd before he spoke, his voice deep and steady:

“People of Lumius… I know you remember me. It’s been only a year since I departed for Urus, and much has changed since then.”

He paused, letting his words settle as he looked directly into the eyes of his people. The restless buzz dissipated entirely.

“I have not come here as a nobleman, but as one of you—a citizen who wishes to see these lands prosper.”

He drew out a parchment and raised it high for all to see.

“Starting today, all taxes in Lumius will be abolished for the next ten years, so that our land can flourish.”

A stunned murmur swept through the plaza, quickly replaced by gasps of relief and stifled cries of joy. An elderly man crossed himself with trembling hands; a woman embraced her child, tears streaming down her face.

“Furthermore,” Ren continued, “a branch of Urus’ Adventurer’s Guild will be established here, to provide defense and training for our youth.”

He gestured to the adventurers, who struck their chests with a light fist in a pledge of commitment.

“Lady Diana Fourchette will oversee the reorganization of Lumius’ forces before returning to Urus. We have brought new soldiers with a true calling for justice. The current garrison will return to Mérius immediately.”

Among the ranks of the local guard, some exchanged glances, unsure whether to feel relief or regret. Others simply nodded with resignation, aware their time here had come to an end.

“All of these changes,” Ren added, “have a single purpose: to make Lumius a safe, prosperous, and worthy place for every one of its people.”

“We owe our gratitude to the Countess of Urus, who not only offered her support, but also dedicated part of the wealth inherited from the late Count to fund these projects.”

“In return, she asks for Lumius to collaborate in trade with Urus and Albus, the cities under her patronage.”

A unanimous applause swept across the plaza, loud and sincere. Ada accepted it with a small, dignified nod, her expression serene yet satisfied.

“Lastly… Emilia Sinclair, please step forward.”

The crowd parted like a river splitting its waters. Emilia advanced with hesitant steps, Rin’s small hand clutched in hers.

The moment Ren saw her, the knot in his throat threatened to break his composure.

“Emilia Sinclair… in the name of the King of Cegris, I cede my title of Viscount to you, and hereby appoint you Regent of Lumius.”

He extended the parchment toward her. Emilia took it with trembling hands; her tear-filled eyes shimmered with the golden light of dusk, reflecting a pride that words could never capture.

Ren could hardly hold back.

“I’m home… Mom,” he whispered, voice breaking.

Emilia and Rin embraced him tightly, as if he might vanish the moment they let go. Ren closed his eyes, allowing himself—for the first time in so long—to simply feel at peace.

The plaza remained alive for hours. Villagers, still in disbelief, lined up to congratulate Emilia. Children darted between makeshift stalls with flowers and warm bread. Ren, surrounded by neighbors calling his name, smiled with a weary joy that no exhaustion could smother.

As the sun sank behind the hills and lights flickered one by one across the houses like fireflies, Lumius breathed anew.

That night, the Sinclair home brimmed with life. The family celebrated with a feast unlike any in recent memory. Thanks to the money Ren had sent while away, the house was transformed: sturdy new tables and chairs, fine dishes and polished silverware. Even the old wood no longer creaked.

In the kitchen, Nia and Mia moved with practiced ease, serving a banquet fit for royalty. The rich aroma of food filled every corner.

Seated at the table, Ren could scarcely recall a warmer, more familial evening. Not once in his memory had he known such a gathering.

“Just look at you…” his father remarked with a proud smile. “You’ve become a man in just a single year.”

Ren nodded modestly, though he couldn’t ignore Rei’s cold gaze from the far end of the table. His brother’s eyes held no warmth—only the simmer of envy. His sisters, however, watched him as though he were the pride of the family.

“Let’s just say I was lucky enough to meet Lady Schubert,” Ren replied sincerely.

Ada, seated nearby, gave a faint smile.

“Don’t be modest, Ren. You know this is all thanks to your efforts.”

Ren held his mother’s gaze for a moment and nodded. For the first time in a long while, the word home carried true meaning.

But not everyone shared in that warmth. Rei remained silent, refusing to meet his brother’s eyes. Inside, jealousy festered. He already saw himself stripped of inheritance, his avaricious gaze lingering on his mother’s new title. What he didn’t know was that Ren had already prepared a clause ensuring only a daughter could inherit: Rin or Rem. Nothing had been left to chance.

The invisible tension finally broke thanks to the innocent voice of little Rin, who hadn’t taken her eyes off Yura. After all, she had never seen a Yuki before.

“Sister… are you going to be my brother Ren’s wife?” she asked, tugging lightly on Yura’s kimono.

The entire Sinclair family froze. Even Ada nearly choked on her wine.

“Rin, don’t ask questions that might make our guest uncomfortable…” Ren cut in quickly, visibly flustered.

But Yura leaned closer to the girl, her expression soft with the warmth of an older sister—and a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

“That’s right, dear Rin. I didn’t want to say it just yet… but I am Ren’s fiancée.”

The silence that followed lasted only two seconds—before Ren, Ada, and the twin sisters all nearly choked at the same time.

No one—absolutely no one—had expected that answer.

“D-Don’t believe her, Rin. It’s been a long trip, and Lady Aseina doesn’t know what she’s saying,” Ada replied with a tense smile. “Besides, Ren is far too young to decide something like that… right, Ren?”

Ren froze like a statue, still haunted by the memory of what had happened back in Antarctica.

“Well… I…”

“Come now, son, don’t be modest!” his father interrupted, giving him a hearty slap on the back. Everyone at the table leaned in, waiting for his answer.

“Ren… is there something you haven’t told me?” Ada pressed, her tone dangerously close to that of a wife suspecting betrayal.

“Ren and I are destined,” Yura cut in before he could breathe. “He deserves a young wife.” Her eyes locked onto Ada’s with a seriousness that was nothing short of a challenge.

The air grew heavy. In Ren’s imagination, he could almost see an ice dragon clashing against a blazing phoenix right there above the dinner table.

Then, the firm sound of footsteps on the stairs shattered the tension.

Emilia Sinclair appeared in an elegant gown, radiating the authority and presence of a true noblewoman.

“Before you trouble my son any further,” she said calmly, “you will first have to prove yourselves worthy of his hand.”

She stopped in front of the two women.

“After all… whoever becomes Ren’s wife must have what it takes to be a Sinclair.”

At her words, everyone quietly returned to their seats, and the banquet resumed. Yet Ada and Yura had already made it clear—they had no intention of backing down.

Meanwhile, as laughter and playful jabs filled the hall, Ren barely touched his food. His thoughts had drifted far beyond the table, beyond Lumius itself… to lands buried in snow and a promise made before a frozen altar.

He knew this peace would be brief. Very soon, the time would come to fulfill the vow he had made to Yura.

And when that moment arrived… the Phantom would walk among the shadows once more.