Chapter 643: Return to Tradition ( 643 )

After several hours of nonstop dashing through dirt roads and plains, the trio finally arrived at the border gate of the Armand Region.

The guards stationed at the gate, even in the quiet of the night, instantly recognized the figures approaching.

Especially one.

That orange, overly energetic Pekko.

“Oh no… that one again…” one of the gatekeepers muttered, eyes narrowing at the familiar sight.

The large, proud mount stomped excitedly, tail feathers puffed, beak twitching like it was already preparing to raid a market stall.

“Buddy’s back,” another guard sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “At night, thank the heavens…”

Had it been daytime, the town’s fruit stalls would’ve been under siege again. But now? Silent streets. Shops closed. Merchants asleep. Disaster averted.

Still, they knew the drill.

Even if the young master’s Pekko bird caused a ruckus, he always paid in full—sometimes even tipped extra. And frankly, no one dared to complain. It was well known throughout the region: Javier De Armand’s Pekko may be chaos incarnate, but he was their chaos.

And compared to wild Pekkos—who often wandered freely into towns and villages to nap in the middle of roads—Buddy was still… slightly more manageable.

But no other Pekko had such a reputation for stealing apples, bullying wild dogs, or kicking carts for fun, except this one.

The gates opened swiftly.

“Welcome home, young master Javier,” the guards saluted.

Javier casually waved from atop Buddy, grinning. “Yo.”

Behind him, Liana on Pikko and Gloria on Peanut followed in graceful silence, their presence adding a certain elegance to the return.

The young master was back.

Javier sat upright on Buddy, casually brushing wind-swept hair from his face as he glanced down at the gate guards.

“How is everyone? And how’s the situation?” he asked, voice calm but steady—clear and noble.

One of the elite guards immediately stepped forward, standing tall.

“Everything is good, young master. The region remains peaceful. No disturbances, no border issues, and trade continues smoothly.”

Before he could finish his next sentence.

Glare.

Liana’s calm, piercing eyes narrowed in sharp disapproval. From atop Pikko, she exuded quiet authority, like a blade sheathed in velvet.

The guard’s back stiffened.

She spoke gently… but her tone was absolute.

“Watch your tone when you speak to the Armand family’s direct heir.”

The words weren’t shouted. They didn’t need to be.

The elite guard paled.

“Y-Yes! I-I’m terribly sorry, Miss Liana!!”

He dropped into a full, respectful bow. Even his fellow guards immediately mirrored the gesture.

Gloria simply smiled softly behind her glasses, adjusting them with a serene sigh. “Ara… how nostalgic. It feels good to be home.”

Javier raised a brow slightly, glancing at Liana from the side.

“Oi… aren’t you being a bit too strict again?”

Liana huffed softly and looked away, pouting just a little. “I’m just maintaining proper decorum. You’re not some wandering street boy anymore, young master.”

“…Yeah, yeah.”

Even Buddy squawked in agreement.

The guards, still bowing, didn’t dare lift their heads until Javier gave the signal.

“All right. Carry on. We’re heading inside.”

He waved them off with a smirk.

“You are a noble, young master,” Liana said firmly, guiding Pikko alongside Buddy. Her tone was calm, but her gaze sharp. “Behave like a real one. Especially in your own region.”

Javier flinched slightly at her words.

“What will Lord Garius say if you show this kind of attitude in front of him? Hmm?”

“Ah… L-Liana… don’t be that strict…” Javier muttered, scratching the back of his head. “We’re just returning home. Can’t I be a little casual?”

Liana’s expression didn’t soften. She spoke with all the quiet authority of someone who’d been raised for this moment.

“We are not outside the Armand region, young master. Here, you are Count Garius de Armand’s youngest son. His blood. His heir. Even if you pretend to be lazy and carefree—there are eyes watching. Behave like a true noble.”

Gloria gave a light chuckle beside them. “Ara… you’re being scolded again, young master.”

“Haaa… fine… I get it,” Javier sighed, slouching forward on Buddy with exaggerated exhaustion. “Noble posture. Noble speech. Noble face. No teasing the guards. No running in the market. No—”

“No flirting with random girls,” Liana added.

“No flirting with any girls,” Gloria corrected with a serene smile.

“Ceh.”

“Hmm?”

“Nothing!” Javier straightened up instantly. Chin raised, posture regal. “Let’s go.”

Liana nodded, satisfied. “Good. Now you look like a real Armand.”

Javier muttered under his breath.

“…Being noble is exhausting.”

Meanwhile, inside the grand Armand estate.

Fransesca stood near the arched window of her private study, her delicate fingers resting on the windowsill as the evening breeze gently fluttered the lace curtains.

She sighed.

First came Cedric. Calm, refined, and composed—just like always. He had returned from his mission with a detailed report, delivering it with the same unwavering clarity that made him such a dependable second son. Meira had stood quietly beside him, ever loyal, her presence almost inseparable from his now.

Fransesca accepted their report with grace, as always. No surprises there.

But then.

“Mother, I’ve returned.”

Marcellus’s voice had come with… a twist.

And the twist?

Fransesca turned her gaze away from the window, closing her eyes briefly in disbelief.

Another Lithia.

No, not another. But one who looked exactly like Lithia. Every line of her face. Every tone in her voice. Every curve. Every step.

It was Harny. Lithia’s mother.

Fransesca slowly exhaled again, placing a hand on her temple.

“They’re identical. No difference at all… What a mess,” she whispered.

Marcellus, her proud and noble eldest son. Always so decisive, so driven, had walked in with his personal maid Lithia on his right…

…and her mother Harny, on his left.

Fransesca couldn’t even tell them apart until they introduced themselves.

And both were smiling.

“First Cedric and his catfolk maid,” she murmured to herself. “Now Marcellus… with not one, but two dark elves.”

She gently pressed her fingertips against the glass.

“And soon… Javier will bring another headache.”

There was no anger in her voice. Only patience. Noble, maternal patience.

But her inner voice, calm yet deeply resigned, echoed through the room.

“Men of Armand… you truly take after your father.”

( End Of Chapter )

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