Tears finally spilled from Duchess Elara's beautiful eyes, dripping onto the back of Calian's hands.
"That pity, Calian... it was a code. It was an act," his mother sobbed, her voice heavy with emotions held back for years. "That look of pity was what convinced your Father that I agreed with his decision. That I had given up on you."
Elara leaned in, staring straight into her son's purple eyes, trying to transfer every ounce of honesty she possessed.
"It was the only way to make your Father believe that 'exile' was the most appropriate punishment for you. Because in his eyes, Calian Larvin was already broken and not worth fighting for, so it was better to throw him away to an unseen place."
Elara's face turned serious and urgent. "But realize this, my son! Exile is your freedom! The West Pavilion is unkempt, isolated at the edge of the family grounds. Your Father would never deign to set his precious foot there. No spies, no servants ordered to watch you every moment. My dear... the West Pavilion is your secret base!"
Calian was stunned. The words hit him like lightning. He felt a wave of heat rush through his chest, melting the ice that had frozen his heart. He looked at his mother with new eyes. Those weren't tears of resignation from a weak woman. Those were the tears of a master actress playing a painful role to protect her child from his own father's tyranny.
"Mother..." Calian's voice choked.
Duchess Elara released one hand to wipe the tears from Calian's cheek, then smiled. The smile was soft, fragile, but genuine—a smile Calian had only seen in secret.
"I know you are smart. Much smarter than your three siblings. I know you have plans you cannot carry out here," Elara whispered. "I gave you the blanket and the West Pavilion so you could execute your plans without the shadow of the Larvin name judging you."
She turned to take the mahogany box from the nightstand and handed it to Calian. "Here. Open it."
With slightly trembling hands, Calian opened the box. On a black velvet cushion lay a pair of gold rings. The design was simple, without flashy gems, but had a strong ancient aura. Next to the rings lay a small velvet pouch that sounded heavy.
"This ring is an heirloom from my family, long before I married your Father. It is not an attack magic ring, but a symbol that true power does not always have to take the form of swords or mana explosions. This has always been my secret." Elara whispered, slipping the ring into Calian's palm. "Wear it. And that pouch, Calian... contains enough money to support you for ten years or buy other magic books. Use it for whatever you need. Never beg from your Father."
Calian gripped the ring and the pouch tightly. The cold metal felt warm against his skin. It felt far heavier and more valuable than any heirloom sword.
"Do you... believe in me?" Calian asked, his voice hoarse, holding back tears.
"Of course!" Duchess Elara answered firmly. She pulled Calian into a tight embrace. The warmth of his mother's body, the scent of lilies, crumbled the last remains of Calian's doubt. "You are my son, Calian. Your Father values your siblings as military assets, as weapons of war. But I know you are different. I see the future in your intelligent eyes. I only ask one thing: never think that you are unloved or worthless."
Calian returned the hug, burying his face in his mother's shoulder. All the pain, cynicism, and loneliness of the last five years seemed erased by that embrace. His mind, previously dark, was now filled with a burning new determination.
It wasn't revenge that moved him now. He was no longer just seeking power to prove himself. He sought power to defend this woman—a mother physically powerless but protecting him with intelligence and emotional sacrifice. He wanted to bring back that genuine smile permanently. He wanted to ensure his mother no longer needed to pretend to bow before the Duke.
"I understand, Mother." Calian whispered with steely determination in his mother's ear. "I will not let you down. I will use this 'punishment' as a gift. I will become something that cannot be valued, measured, or controlled by Father."
Duchess Elara released the hug. She wiped the remaining tears from her own face and her son's, then took a deep breath. In an instant, her posture straightened. The mask of the cold and elegant Duchess was perfectly back in place.
"Good, Calian. Now I must go." she said, her voice controlled again. "Your Father will be suspicious if I stay in this room too long. I will send letters through Sebastian occasionally. But remember, the moment you step out that door, you are alone. And that solitude is your strength."
Calian nodded in understanding.
Without looking back, Duchess Elara walked out of the room. The door closed with a firm click.
Leaving Calian alone. Once again.
But this time, the loneliness didn't feel empty. Calian looked at the silver box, the thick blanket, and the ring in his hand. He walked to the large cracked mirror in the corner of the room. He placed the gold ring on his right ring finger. It fit. Perfect.
He stared at his reflection. A thin young man with messy purple hair and sharp purple eyes.
I am zero in the eyes of the world. Trash without a Mana Core, he thought. But I have the secret of the Time Loop. I can manipulate time and living beings in this world. And now... I also have my Mother's love.
Calian grinned at his reflection. He remembered lines from the book 'Immunity to Aging' he had read. I will stay young. Time is mine, while they will all grow old. But, would my mother be willing to join me if I manipulated her age to make her young again?
Calian looked back at the ring on his finger and remembered his mother's said before.
"Father gave me exile as a punishment. Mother gave me the tools to become strong without supervision," Calian murmured, his voice full of vibrating ambition. "The West Pavilion! Alright, let's see what the future holds for this 'cripple'."
His motivation had evolved. It was no longer just pride, but a deadly mix of Love, Promise, and Eternity. Calian Larvin, the Time Loop user, now had an unshakable mental foundation.
He turned, his robe fluttering dramatically.
"Sebastian!" Calian called out. His voice was no longer flat. It was loud, full of authority, the voice of a ruler just awakening. "Help me move all these goods and books to the carriage immediately! We are leaving for the West Pavilion right now!"
From behind the door came the sound of steady footsteps approaching. "Yes, Young Master," Sebastian answered with a respectful tone.
That night, the moon hung low in the sky, illuminating the cobblestone path separating the main mansion from the secluded area far in the west.
The old horse carriage carrying Calian moved slowly, its wheels creaking, breaking the silence of the night.
Finally, in the distance, the silhouette of the West Pavilion began to appear—an old building covered in vines, dark, and spooky. To everyone in the Duke's residence, that place was a graveyard for the future, a place of mental torture, and the end of everything for a noble.
Calian pulled back the carriage curtain, staring at the gloomy building with shining eyes. He squeezed the gold ring on his finger.
To the world, this was the end. But for Calian Larvin, this was point zero, the beginning of everything.