Theo’s hand drifted toward his waist, ready to draw his ceremonial sword if needed.

Then, as he pushed open the front door—

*Pop, pop!*

“...What?”

Theo blinked as fireworks burst in front of him, catching him completely off guard.

“Young master, congratulations!”

“We heard you’ve earned yourself a title!”

“You’ve been through so much; truly, it’s been one challenge after another.”

“Keep up the momentum and show them what you’ve got at the Blooming Ceremony! Go, Theo!”

Suddenly, the dark room was illuminated, and the maids and stewards greeted him with cheers and applause.

*Clap, clap, clap, clap!*

Above them, banners fluttered with congratulatory messages.

**Congratulations! Theo Earns a Title!**

“...What is all this?”

Theo stood there, dumbfounded.

“What do you mean? It’s a party celebrating your new title, young master.”

“That’s right! You have no idea how thrilled we’ve been lately! People are all talking about you. Just today, a friend from the Plum Palace couldn’t stop asking me about you—seething with envy, too… Oh-ho-ho!”

Theo suddenly wanted to disappear into a hole. It was embarrassing enough that rumors about him sparring with the Northern Four Dragons had spread… but a party for his title?

“Where’s Mother…?”

Hoping to escape the scene with an excuse, he attempted to make a quick exit.

“Madam said she wants to prepare something special for you now that your skills are soaring. She’s brought in renowned chefs from Winterer and is cooking up a hearty meal herself. The kitchen is in absolute chaos! Oh-ho-ho!”

“...”

It seemed Theo wouldn’t be getting a peaceful night.

---

“Dear, try this grilled abalone. It’s sourced from the Idrea Sea and brushed with butter from the farms of the Praal Mountains, slowly roasted to bring out the heat…”

“Mother, I’ve already eaten over twenty abalones…”

“Oh, taste this as well. It’s a young chicken raised exclusively on acorns in the western Laziria Desert, boiled with ginseng imported from the distant country of Juson…”

“I’ve had enough chicken too. If I eat any more, I’ll start crowing tomorrow…”

“And here’s this! Do you remember, dear? Around the time you were five, we visited the North Sea, and you found codfish delicious, so I thought…”

“...”

Theo was nearing his breaking point from all the food Cecilia was offering him.

He wanted to politely refuse, to say he was full, but—

*...With that sparkle in her eyes, how could I even begin to say no?*

Her gaze was livelier than he’d ever seen it, practically glowing with joy.

As a result, the table was covered in a mountain of empty plates.

- “Didn’t the young master have a small appetite?”

- “That’s what I thought too, but maybe not.”

- “It must mean he really likes the food. Does that mean our previous dishes weren’t up to his standards?”

- “That settles it. We’ll have to keep our chefs on their toes from now on.”

- “Exactly! Our young master deserves only the best!”

The maids and stewards were fired up, though Theo had no room to pay them any mind.

*“Still… this is delicious.”*

He chewed on a chicken drumstick, managing a bittersweet smile.

Just like the time with the tailor, Cecilia had personally selected the ingredients and even guided the chefs herself.

It felt like he was seeing another new side of his mother.

*“She’s more talented than I ever realized.”*

“Oh-ho-ho! My dear, you don’t know how joyful each day has been for me lately!”

“It’s wonderful that you’re finally feeling at home in the Camellia Palace.”

Cecilia tilted her head, puzzled.

“Hm? What do you mean by that?”

“Didn’t you used to dislike the third wife?”

“Oh my, my dear, you must have misunderstood when I said I’ve been happy lately.”

“...?”

“Of course, I’m glad that I drove out that little nuisance, Emile, and claimed the Camellia Palace. That one always spread nasty rumors about you and me wherever she went.”

She… did?

“So it brings me nothing but joy. She was the one who first spread that detestable nickname about you—one I can’t even bear to say.”

*The Cripple of Ragnar.*

The derogatory title that had followed Theo for years.

“You probably wouldn’t have known, dear, because I made sure the maids were instructed to keep it from you.”

Theo’s eyes widened in shock.

He’d had no idea.

“It didn’t matter to me where I lived—the Rose Palace or the Camellia Palace. I only wanted a place where we could sit and share a meal, face-to-face.”

“...”

“What truly makes me happy is that, finally, people are beginning to see your worth.”

Once again, a warm feeling bloomed in Theo’s heart.

“They’ve all been blind to it until now, unable to see what a strong and remarkable son I have. But now they’re starting to realize it. Soon, they’ll have to be careful with their words around you, too! Oh-ho-ho!”

There was no hint of pretense in Cecilia’s delighted laughter.

*“Maybe… maybe I’ve misunderstood my mother all this time.”*

He’d thought she wanted only social advancement, driven by a twisted love and desire for power through her son.

But he might have been wrong.

These were misunderstandings that could have been cleared up with a genuine conversation.

Yet…

They’d never once tried to resolve them.

“And revisiting old hobbies like tailoring and cooking for you has been a joy in itself, dear. It brings back fond memories of the past.”

Theo recalled Cecilia’s passion and diligence, her vibrancy on full display.

Despite her many talents, when she married into the family, becoming the wife of the clan leader, she’d had to set her dreams aside.

She’d done it all to protect her son from the scorn and pressure of those around her.

He wanted to keep seeing that lively, happy side of her.

“Mother, have you considered returning to those things you once enjoyed…?”

“Oh, but more importantly, are you using that sword? I noticed you carrying it with you last time.”

Cecilia interrupted him, her gaze landing on the three ceremonial swords hanging beside the table.

Theo held back his words.

Cecilia’s expression made it clear she didn’t want him to continue.

*“Pursuing hobbies like tailoring and cooking…?”*

Her earlier words kept echoing in his mind.

“You kept those swords on display for so long. I was worried that perhaps I’d given you something unsatisfactory.”

“Would you like to see?”

Deciding to continue the conversation another time, Theo picked up one of the swords.

*Swoosh*

The blade slid from its sheath, revealing a pure, white edge.

Cecilia’s eyes widened slightly.

“The blade has taken quite a bit of damage.”

“Yes, somehow…”

“What about the other swords?”

Theo showed her the other two blades, each with similar signs of wear.

Cecilia frowned, muttering to herself in dissatisfaction.

“That blasted old man… He boasted that, with the White Snow Ore and Ebonwood, it’d never dull or break.”

“Ebonwood? You mean the Ebonwood from the Gaia jungle in the south?”

Ebonwood was a rare, iron-eating plant, known for its exceptional durability, often used with White Snow Ore in high-grade swords.

“And what other kind of Ebonwood would there be? I’ll have to go and confront him; this won’t sit right with me.”

“...!”

“Hand me those swords, dear. I’ll take them back and have them properly reforged.”

“They’re fine as they are…”

“Nonsense! Surely you don’t intend to take those worn-out swords to the Blooming Ceremony, do you?”

Theo scratched his cheek.

“You were planning on it, weren’t you? Absolutely not! Remember, as I’ve told you before, now that your name is starting to spread, you must be more conscious of your behavior, your tone, and your appearance than ever before.”

She added, “You mustn’t give anyone the slightest excuse to tarnish your reputation.”

“Each minor impression people have of you will build your reputation. Don’t take it lightly. Understood?”

Theo nodded.

He understood her words now.

People who didn’t know him well would judge him by the image he projected.

And where he aimed wasn’t merely a place for the strong.

*The Clan Leader.*

It was Ragnar’s highest position.

If he wanted to reach it, he needed to carefully cultivate his reputation from this point forward.

Cecilia’s words were right.

“That’s why I intend to oversee every one of your actions and appearances at the Blooming Ceremony, dear. You must be the event’s main character.”

*Smack!*

Cecilia slapped the table and stood up with vigor.

“In fact, let’s go right now. I’ll drag that blasted old man out myself.”

“...It’s already 9 PM.”

“What does the time matter? That fraud took a fortune from me and gave me faulty goods. I’m going to confront him.”

Watching her irritation flare up, Theo couldn’t help but wonder—

Who was this “blasted old man” his mother kept talking about?

---

*“Come to think of it, I know nothing about my mother’s connections.”*

As Theo reflected on how little he knew of his mother’s past, their carriage took them from the Camellia Palace to the blacksmith district of Winterer.

*

“Is Ray still following me…? What is she thinking?”*

She’d been lingering outside the Camellia Palace for hours in the cold.

He couldn’t understand why she kept tailing him.

He didn’t mind as long as she didn’t interfere.

*“If this keeps up, I’ll have to talk to her.”*

His thoughts were interrupted as the carriage came to a halt.

“We’re here.”

Theo’s eyes widened as he stepped out.

“The Bask Workshop? You know this place?”

It was less a blacksmith shop and more of a manufacturing complex.

Even this late, smoke billowed from its chimneys, and he could feel the heat from the door.

It was a place he knew well.

In fact, everyone in Ragnar did.

The Bask Workshop was one of the top three weapon forges in Winterer.

There wasn’t a single Ragnar swordsman who hadn’t wielded a Bask sword.

“How could a lowly woman like me know such a place? I only know a certain someone here.”

“...?”

Who could she mean?

Just then, a hysterical voice rang out from inside.

“You useless pests! Are you deaf? Move those right! Do you know how much these cost…? Hey! Handle that properly! That’s money right there, money!”

“...Money?”

As Theo processed the bizarre statement, the workshop door suddenly slammed open.

“Argh! Do you have any idea what it took to land this job? And now we’re supposed to meet the deadline?”

A figure emerged, scratching at her rough silver hair.

Her eyes were darkened with exhaustion, and a white plume of smoke drifted from the pipe clenched between her teeth.

Every finger sparkled with jeweled rings, and gold chains and bracelets adorned her neck and wrists, dazzling enough to hurt the eyes.

With her haggard appearance and fixation on wealth, she was a sight to behold.

Yet, she had pale skin and pointed ears.

The woman’s gaze sharpened as she spotted Theo.

“What are you looking at? Never seen an elf smoking before?”

It was an elf—like no elf he’d ever imagined.

*“This person…!”*

Theo quickly realized who she was.

- The owner of the Bask Workshop.

- An elf who, despite her love for nature, had been exiled from her tribe for becoming a blacksmith.

- A mad elf, famed for her love of jewels, gold, and money.

- One of Ragnar’s three master craftsmen.

- The “Capitalist Elf.”

The intelligence department classified her as “top tier.”

*“The Infernal Crafter, Kirson!”*

Just as he scrambled to respond to this unexpected encounter, Cecilia stepped forward.

“Still smoking that horrid thing? Even an elf can’t keep heating herself like this and smoking on top of it. You’ll end up all shriveled one day!”

A crease formed on Cecilia’s graceful forehead.

“Mother!”