Chapter 43: Not So Guilty?

Chapter 43: Not So Guilty?

Nice to be back, hope you guys enjoy

—

"Make sure to take it easy for a week—rest your legs, no hard labor, or you'll just make things worse."

I spoke gently, leaning down to meet the gaze of the short, elderly hunchbacked woman across from my clinic stand. She wore tattered peasant rags, her frail frame practically swallowed by the folds of the fabric. My "clinic," if you could call it that, was little more than a simple wooden stall that blended in with the countless others lining Kikka's bustling streets.

Many would probably mistake it for any ordinary vendor's booth if not for the cursive sign overhead, crafted in bold, colorful letters with Acier's help:

S & A's Clinic.

Beside the name was a drawing—a figure in a long doctor's coat examining a wounded patient with an arm sling. The sketch was simple but clear, for the sake of those who couldn't read, though most never spared it more than a passing glance. Beneath the name, in smaller, humbler letters, was written:

Don't worry about money. All patients are welcome.

The old woman smiled softly, tilting her head up ever so slightly to look at me. Her chuckle was low and rasping, as though her lungs were straining to keep up with her humor. "Ho ho ho, I know, Sonny. Thanks fer the help, Doctor."

I scratched my cheek, feeling a little sheepish, and shook my head in mock reprimand. "I'm not a doctor yet, Ms. Harolds. You know that."

She paused, her cloudy eyes studying me, before letting out another low, wheezing laugh. "Who cares 'bout official credentials and all that? To us common folk, you're not just a doctor—you're the doctor. We wouldn't know what to do if you hadn't come into our lives."

A warmth bloomed in my chest at her words, spreading like the glow of a quiet hearth. I nodded, my voice tinged with slight embarrassment. "Thanks, Ms. Harolds. That really means a lot."

But instead of laughing again, she frowned. Her gaze shifted to the end of my stall, where the nearly empty money jar sat, a lonely testament to the struggles of the people I served. Her expression fell, and she lowered her head as if in shame. Without another word, she turned and hobbled away, her cane tapping softly against the cobblestones.

"Compared to what you've done fer penniless folks like me," she said over her shoulder, her voice raspy and laden with emotion, "this here is nothing."

I watched her retreating figure, the weight of her words sinking into me. My mouth opened, but no words came. After a moment, I cupped my hands around my mouth like a makeshift megaphone and called out.

"I don't do it for the money! I don't need it!" Especially not with whose husband I am now. So don't feel pressured to pay me!

Her frail figure paused for a moment, her cane trembling as she lifted it into the air in a silent gesture. Without turning around, her hoarse voice drifted back toward me, the sound fragile, like dried leaves carried on the wind.

"That right there's the problem, Sonny... It's those who do thankless things, never askin' for anything in return... who get the worst end..."

Her voice grew softer, fading into the distance, until I could no longer hear her. My chest tightened with an ache I couldn't quite put into words.

Still, I called after her, my voice cutting through the hum of the streets, even though I knew she might not hear me.

"See you soon, Ms. Harolds! Don't skip your appointments, or I'll come knocking on your door!"

"And Happy New Year!" [1]

After a while, I lowered my arms and tilted my head back, gazing up at the darkening sky. The moon slowly began to rise, its silver light casting a faint glow on the black horizon. With a deep breath, I brought my head down again, scanning the nearly empty streets to my left and right.

I patted my mouth as a yawn escaped me. "Hooah."

It's time to head home. Any later, and I'll be locked out of the noble realm for the night when curfew hits. The thought made me chuckle quietly. I could already picture Acier's unamused expression and the earful she'd give me tomorrow morning if that happened.

Shaking my head with a small smile, I turned my thoughts to home—to my wife... and to him. A new face appeared in my mind: a tiny, scrunched-up red face with wide eyes, framed by a shock of soft silver-white hair. My son. My boy. Only yesterday had he entered my life, but already I felt like I couldn't bear to be apart from him.

A gentle, fond smile tugged at my lips.

I really want to quit my job... The thought struck me again, the same as it had all day. I just want to stay by their side—be a full-time father and husband.

But Acier hadn't let me. She'd practically pushed me out the door this morning, telling me it wouldn't be right to abandon all of my patients just because I'd become a father. And, of course, she was right. She always is.

Besides, the Silvas had hundreds of servants and maids to lighten her load. It wasn't as though she were managing everything alone. Still, I wanted to do my part—not as the future head of House Silva, not as a healer, but simply as her husband and his father.

Even if that meant letting the people here down.

I shook my head, clearing away the conflicting thoughts, and stretched with a bemused grin. My shoulders rolled, my neck cracked, and I twisted my hips to work out the day's stiffness. Then I turned to my stall, scanning it for the day's supplies to pack away: the nearly empty money jar, brewed potions, ointments, pain relievers, elixirs, and tools—knives, scissors, clamps, forceps, ligatures, and more.

Pulling my large leather pouch from the edge of the stall, I fell into the practiced rhythm of packing. Metal tools were wrapped in a towel and placed carefully at the bottom. Elixirs went into a rectangular tray above them, cushioned by small, square beanbags of varying colors to keep them secure.

Finally, I tipped the money jar over, shaking out the few coins of Yule I'd earned today, before pocketing them. The jar went back on the stall ledge.

With everything packed, I slung the heavy bag over my back and secured it around my chest with a double knot. One last glance at the stall, and I hurried off.

Flying above the castle town on a broom was tempting—it would get me home to Castle Silva so much faster. But I knew better. Too many nobles still weren't happy about Acier's and my marriage, and there were bound to be Magic Knights among them who'd abuse their authority just to throw me in a cell for something petty.

Flying above the realm at night without the proper clearance? That'd be all the excuse they'd need.

Any other time, I wouldn't care. Most Magic Knights on night duty wasted away in pubs, drunk instead of patrolling. But now I'm a father. I can't take the risk. Not when I need to get home to him.

So, instead, I jogged. Not too fast—I didn't have the stamina to sprint all the way from Kikka to the royal palace. The distance was far too great, and I'd tire out before I got close.

"Heh," I muttered under my breath, a derisive snort escaping me. "Just you snobs wait. Once I inherit House Silva, let's see you try to pull rank with me then."

As I darted through Kikka's winding streets, climbing the slope toward the royal capital, a soft, feeble voice—young and trembling—called out from somewhere nearby.

"Please, sir... can you spare some change?"

Hmm? I froze mid-step, my brow arching in curiosity, before turning toward the source of the voice. It had come from an alleyway to my left.

What I saw made me pause.

Down the narrow passage, seated cross-legged against a brick house on a torn and frayed rug, was a small figure. At first glance, I could only assume it was a child. Assume being the operative word, since the figure was almost entirely obscured beneath a tattered brown coat riddled with holes that revealed glimpses of bare skin underneath.

That thin, smooth skin and the boyish timbre of the voice pegged him as a child, probably no older than ten.

From just that quick glance, I could tell he wasn't in immediate danger—his skin tone suggested he was reasonably healthy for a street kid. But as I glanced skyward at the darkening clouds, the chilling breeze picking up speed, and the faint, almost imperceptible flakes of snow falling, I knew his health wouldn't mean much when the night deepened. The Clover Kingdom was about to be swallowed by a fierce winter storm.

I'm not what anyone would call overly sympathetic, but I have my limits. And ever since becoming a father, it seems my bar for "things I can ignore" has been raised considerably higher.

The old me might've walked away. The current me? Not a chance.

So I stepped stiffly into the alleyway, my sandals crunching against the frozen ground, and stopped just in front of him. Lowering myself to one knee, I tilted my head slightly, angling for a better view of his face. But as if sensing my intent, the child lowered his head further, retreating deeper into the shadows of his hood.

That small, defensive gesture froze me in place. Narrowing my eyes, I sighed inwardly. Poor kid probably thinks I'm trying to size him up like prey.

I couldn't fault him for it. I'd lived that life before, a secret double one—scraping by as a street rat after my parents decided to, well... end their lives' Chapter a little early.

If there's one rule you learn on the streets, it's this: Never let anyone see your weakness. Hiding your identity is the best defense, and the boy's oversized hood was proof enough that he knew the rules well.

So now what?

I wanted to help him, but I also knew that whatever had led him to this life probably made him wary—if not outright distrustful—of strangers. Trying to pry into his life or force help on him would only drive him away.

I needed to respect his distance.

Reaching into my pocket, I grabbed the small handful of coins I'd earned today and held them above his lap. Without a word, I let them drop, the coins clinking softly as they landed in his hands.

From above, I caught the faintest glimpse of his mouth parting, as though in surprise. I let out an apologetic chuckle.

"Sorry, kid. From the way I'm dressed, you probably thought I was some rich noble and expected a lot more. But I never leave the noble realm loaded." I scratched the back of my neck with a sheepish grin. "Force of habit. Back in the day, it helped keep muggers off my back. And, well, my wife won't let me carry around too much, either."

I shifted slightly, softening my tone. "It's not much, I know. But it's more than enough to get you a warm bed and a proper meal at a tavern tonight. Don't even think about toughing it out in this cold. You won't survive the night—not with the snowstorm that's coming."

The boy stayed silent, still holding the coins as though unsure what to do. His mouth remained in that small "O" shape of shock.

I pressed on, hoping my words would convince him. "Look, there's no point in saving up for tomorrow when survival tonight is what matters. Besides, if you make it through and you're here again tomorrow, you can count on me for a much bigger donation."

After a brief moment, as if registering my words, I saw the boy's gaping mouth close into a tight-lipped line before quivering upward into a soft smile. Another second passed, and he spoke again, his voice still soft but carrying an odd charisma that felt far too mature for his age.

"You're... a really good person."

My eyes widened at his words, and a strange warmth tickled at my chest, stirring that good feeling deep inside. I scratched my chin sheepishly, unable to meet his gaze.

"I-It's nothing..." I stammered, my usual calm and composed demeanor unraveling in the presence of this mere child. I couldn't explain it, but something about him struck a chord in me—a deep, inexplicable resonance that seemed to call from the very core of my being. It was as if this boy's presence alone compelled me to give—everything I knew, everything I had, everything I was.

That feeling terrified me.

My instincts screamed for me to leave, to get far away from him, but my body betrayed me. I remained kneeling, hovering over the boy like some bizarre statue. Even my face refused to cooperate—my startled smile stretched unnaturally across my lips, frozen in place. If anyone else had seen me at that moment, they would've called it eerie.

The boy, unfazed, tilted his head slightly and continued, his tone calm yet strangely piercing.

"Why are you being so nice to a mere stranger? Child or not, you shouldn't let your guard down so easily."

I didn't want to answer him. A chill ran down my spine at his words, but my mouth moved on its own, spilling my thoughts like water through a broken dam.

"I-I'm a papa now. My son, Nozel, was just born. I want to try to be kinder, braver—a better person, someone he can look up to and admire... even if it could come back to bite me."

The words left my lips before I could stop them, and my pupils dilated in sheer horror. What had I just done? I'd confessed something so deeply personal, something I'd have been too embarrassed to even share with Acier, and here I was, blurting it out to a complete stranger.

Panic surged through me. I needed to leave. Now. But once again, my body refused to obey.

The boy smiled softly at my confession, nodding his head in what seemed to be acknowledgement.

"That's good. That's very good," he said, his voice filled with a strange kind of approval. "Humans looking out for humans, the privileged helping the lesser-born, and those enduring hardship... That's the kind of world I want to see."

I stayed silent, my tongue still bound by whatever unseen force kept me rooted in place.

"Or rather," the boy corrected, his smile faltering into a brief frown, "that's the kind of world I wanted to see."

The chill in my spine deepened as he carried on.

"Your actions today are meaningless in the grand scheme of things," he said, his tone matter-of-fact yet dripping with a dark edge. "A mere drop of white in the boundless black ocean of human wickedness, struggle, and misery. True change, true peace, can only be achieved by rebuilding humanity and this world from scratch."

"Creak."

My leg bones trembled as my body finally began responding to my will. Ligaments clicked as I fought against the invisible pull keeping me kneeling. Slowly, agonizingly, I began to rise.

But the boy rose with me, his movements deliberate, his expression calm yet unreadable.

"Of course," he continued, now standing fully, "to create such a world, sacrifices must be made. Certain people must endure hatred and tribulations—for the greater good."

Now standing face-to-face, I towered over the boy, my eyes fixed on the brick wall behind him. My body felt frozen, yet my heart pounded in erratic, fearful adrenaline.

The boy's voice cut through the tension like a blade.

"To ensure the trend of times doesn't stray too far from my vision, I must intervene where necessary," he said, his tone almost casual, as though he were commenting on the weather. "Normally, you're an insignificant individual. But the few uchronia where Sebastian Silva ends up as a good person..."

He paused, and for the first time, I thought I saw something like regret flicker across his features.

"...always cause things to unfold in unpredictable ways. Undesirable ways."

Thump! Thump! Thump!

My heart raced as his words echoed in my mind.

What in God's name is he talking about?!

Like a marionette manipulated by invisible strings, my head lowered against my will, my gaze following suit until I was face-to-face with the boy. Simultaneously, he raised his head, his eyes meeting mine for the first time.

I finally saw his face.

Shaggy, long black hair framed his features. His brownish eyes carried the faintest tint of mahogany, unassuming at first glance. But what truly caught my attention was the black sun mark etched on the right side of his forehead. It didn't look like a tattoo—it was something far stranger.

The boy smiled softly, a disarming expression that only deepened my unease. Slowly, deliberately, he raised his right arm, pointing upward toward me.

"I applaud you, Sebastian," he said, his voice calm yet filled with an otherworldly gravity, "for being one of your few parallels to foster compassion and rapport in this loop. But alas, all that will create is fleeting peace."

He curled his fist, leaving only his pointer finger extended, and then moved it toward my forehead with an agonizing slowness.

"To make a world where your wife, your son, your future children, and all of humanity can experience true and eternal equality," he said, his voice almost soothing, "I'm going to need you to sleep for a while."

And then he tapped my forehead.

The sensation was indescribable. It wasn't pain, nor was it entirely physical. It felt as if my very spirit—my soul—was retreating, dragged into the deepest, darkest recesses of my mind. A vast black void unfolded before me, dotted with countless spherical silver lights floating aimlessly in the abyss.

I felt an invisible force sweeping me away, pulling me deeper into this strange space. Panic surged within me, and I tried to resist. I tried to swim forward, to fight against the current. But before I could make any headway, everything stopped.

I froze in midair.

The force holding me suddenly ceased, and I plummeted, landing hard on my knees on the black, astral sea-like floor.

Out of nowhere, white chains shot up from the dark surface, coiling around my limbs and throat. They bound me completely. I struggled against them, but it was no use.

In front of me, a large white screen flickered to life, opening like a window to reveal the same scene I had just lived through.

The boy. His hand tapping my forehead.

But this time, something felt different. It no longer felt like my own experience. Instead, I was watching—living through someone else's eyes, someone else's body.

On the screen, I saw the boy lower his hand and clasp his arms behind his back. His scrutinizing gaze fell on me, equal parts pleased and apologetic.

"I called it sleep," he began, his tone soft, almost regretful, "but that might be too cruel. Instead, I'll have you watch—watch the frivolity and fragility of those precious bonds of yours when exposed to the oppression of innate human nature. Watch the frailty of the human heart. The pitiful and vulnerable souls That One cursed us with."

My panic turned to outrage. "Who are you?! What are you doing?! Why are you doing this to me?!" I shouted, my voice trembling with disbelief and fury.

Instinct told me that this boy had nothing to do with the nobles and royals I had crossed. He wasn't part of Lux's camp or entourage. If he were, Acier would already bear the Kira name. No, this was something else—something far larger, far more terrifying.

My voice echoed through the void, but on the screen, I saw no movement from my lips. I wasn't speaking in the real world anymore.

Dread consumed me, but somehow, the boy seemed to hear me all the same.

He sighed softly, shaking his head. "You wouldn't understand if I explained it to you now," he said, his tone resigned. "All will be made clear in the future."

Then, with an air of mockery—or perhaps twisted reassurance—he reached out and patted my shoulder.

"Sebastian," he said, his voice almost kind, "no matter what happens in the future, no matter what your body does, I hope you can remember: it's not your fault."

"What do you mean?!" I demanded, desperation clawing at my throat.

Again, he shook his head, ignoring my plea. "Don't worry," he said, his hand still resting on my shoulder. "To ensure your soul doesn't dissipate or fall into despair, and so you can serve me faithfully at my divine throne, I won't completely lock your will away."

His grin widened, unnervingly bright. "Every now and then, you'll be you again. You'll have control of your body, though what you can do and say will be restricted. After all, history must follow the most correct course."

I could only stare, frozen in disbelief, as he delivered his final words.

"I've taken up too much of your time already," he said, almost casually. "Your wife is probably worried sick. I hear women are quite emotional after giving birth—it's best not to keep her waiting."

The atmosphere shifted, the conversation—or whatever this was—drawing to a close.

Raising his pointer finger once more, the boy smiled at me. "Thanks for the money, Sebastian. I'll use it wisely. See you in 33 years, my new friend."

"Oh and happy New Years."

And with one final tap to my forehead, everything went black.

—

"Baboo... Baboo... Baboo!"

Sebastian's eyes snapped open, his heartbeat spiking as the adorable, familiar voice pulled him awake. A pudgy little mass was tapping insistently on his face, dangerously close to his forehead. A surge of panic flared within him, the memory of a strange and haunting dream still fresh, but he forced himself to remain calm.

Blinking rapidly, he found himself staring into the sparkling eyes of Noelle, perched firmly on his chest as he lay in bed. Her tiny hands continued patting his face, her persistence finally rewarded as her father stirred.

Sebastian watched as recognition flickered across Noelle's cherubic face, her big, round eyes widening in delight as she realized she had succeeded. Clapping her hands together, she let out an unmistakable giggle of triumph.

Clap! Clap! Clap! "A-ga, a-da, a-ga!"

Sebastian couldn't help the exasperated smile that tugged at his lips. Sliding his hands upward, he gently pinched her cheeks, earning a fresh round of gleeful coos and laughter from the ten-month-old.

"Aga, aga, aga!"

With a playful chuckle, Sebastian began tickling Noelle's sides, her tiny body squirming atop him as her giggles filled the room. His gaze drifted upward, confirming what he had already guessed—he was in his own bedroom.

A moment later, a slender, familiar hand came into view, lightly patting Noelle's soft silver hair and drawing her attention.

"Wow, Noelle," a voice like honey spoke from his right, "did you wake Daddy up?"

Both father and daughter turned in unison. Sebastian tilted his head toward the right while Noelle craned hers slightly to the left. Sitting upright on her side of the bed was Acier, her radiant smile directed at their daughter.

Before either of them could respond, he bolted out of the room after his siblings, his face burning with embarrassment.

The room fell silent, now empty except for its two owners. Acier and Sebastian exchanged a glance, the air between them heavy with an awkward pause.

Sebastian cleared his throat, determined to break the silence.

"So, anything else of particular note happen while I was sleeping—"

His words died as Acier shifted, climbing onto his side of the bed and straddling him. She pushed him back against the headboard, her movements deliberate but not aggressive.

Sebastian flushed, his face burning crimson. "A-Acier, w-we talked about this—"

He stopped short when he caught her expression. There was no blushing, no teasing glint, no romantic warmth in her gaze. Instead, her eyes bore into his with a somber intensity, her brow furrowed.

The atmosphere shifted completely, the light-heartedness of a moment ago evaporating into something far heavier.

After a long moment, her pink lips parted. Her voice was soft but probing. "What's wrong, Sebby?"

Sebastian's brows shot up in surprise. Huh? He stiffened before quickly composing himself, forcing a thin smile.

"What are you talking about, Acier? Sure, my bones ache a bit, but nothing a little more rest won't fix—"

"Sebby." Acier cut him off, her tone unusually firm as she cupped his chin, forcing his eyes to meet hers.

"I'm not in the mood for games right now. Tell me what's wrong. What's bothering you?"

Sebastian studied her for a long moment, his jaw tightening. Finally, he sighed.

"Acier, we met when we were about 14, yeah?"

She nodded silently, her gaze unwavering.

"We got engaged and married at 16, had Nozel just after we turned 17, and... that's when everything started falling apart. Right?"

Her lips parted slightly, but no words came. Sebastian pressed on, his voice lowering.

"Or rather, that's when I started showing my 'true face'—an uncaring, manipulative bastard who seduced you to secure power and become Lord Silva."

Acier trembled, biting her lip. Her voice came hoarse and shaky. "I... I suppose. Where are you going with this?"

Sebastian hesitated, the weight of the conversation pressing down on him. Part of him wanted to drop it, bury the pain, and move forward. But deep down, some stubborn part of his soul—perhaps the original Sebastian—needed to know.

"What if I told you those times weren't fake? That they weren't a manipulative lie? That I always loved you, cherished you... just like I do today?"

Acier's pupils dilated, her breath hitching. Sebastian's stomach churned as he clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding audibly.

"What if someone told you that something... changed me? That something turned your Sebby into that uncaring monster? But deep down, I've always loved you. And our children."

Acier tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling as if searching for answers. When her gaze returned to him, tears were welling in her eyes. Sebastian reached up instinctively to wipe them away, but she caught his wrist, shaking her head.

Sometimes, you have to let others cry. Let them vent their pain, their deepest wounds.

Her trembling lips curved into a shaky, tearful smile. "I-in some ways... I'd be so... so happy to know that. To know I never lied to my family. To know you've always loved us."

Sebastian stayed silent, his throat tight as she continued, her tears falling freely now, staining both their faces.

"I'd also be s-so sad... so sad that you had to go through torture like that. That our family had to go through it too!"

Her hands cupped his face, her forehead pressing against his as she closed her eyes.

"I-I'd b-be so d-disappointed in myself," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Ashamed... that I ever doubted your love. That I ever doubted Father's words..."

Sebastian's eyes widened. Father's words? What does she mean by that?

His heart began to race, but he kept his thoughts bottled up. For now.

After a moment, Acier leaned back, breaking their forehead contact. Her dull glare pierced through Sebastian, raising the hair on the back of his neck. Tears continued to stream down her face, yet her expression was disturbingly calm—utterly unbothered, almost emotionless.

"I'd also be beyond furious. Livid with the bastard who dared to do something so cruel to you," she said, her voice ice-cold. "I want to find them. Tear them to shreds. Make them feel the most excruciating death imaginable. Destroy them in body and soul so thoroughly that even reincarnation isn't an option."

Sebastian's pupils dilated as Acier cupped his cheeks again, her grip firm.

"So tell me, Sebby," she continued, her tone dark and biting, "who dared to control you? To turn you into... whatever it was you became. And why is it Julius?"

Sebastian stiffened, his blood running cold. Acier's hate-filled expression flickered, morphing into one of bitter self-loathing.

"Or rather," she muttered, her voice shaking, "it's the same person controlling Julius now, isn't it? The one we can't touch. The one we can't challenge. Because if we do..."

Her words trailed off as her tears turned into a steady stream.

"...That's just a death sentence. Not just for us, but for our entire family and everything we love and cherish."

Sebastian froze, unable to speak as her voice cracked with despair.

"I'm not an idiot, okay? I know we can't do anything to him right now. I won't act brashly or put our family at risk. Julius is far stronger than either of us. And if he can control him—unknowingly at that—what chance do we have?!"

Her hands trembled, and her voice rose, thick with frustration. "It just sucks! Knowing he's so close, hovering around the kingdom, probably watching us. Probably watching this conversation right now. And the fact that we can't do anything about it..."

Her voice broke into a sob. "It makes me want to curl up into a ball and die!"

She buried her face in her hands. "Forget fighting. How do we even begin to stand up to an enemy we can't see? Someone we can't even get a read on? Tell me, Sebby!"

Sebastian's eyes welled up, and he whispered hoarsely, "I don't know."

Reaching up, he wiped her tear-streaked face. This time, she didn't pull away. Instead, she let him wrap her in his arms. Gently, he eased her onto her side of the bed, laying her down as he knelt beside her.

Sebastian brushed her silver hair away from her face and spoke softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Treat it like a bad dream... a nightmare. We'll think about all of this after you've had time to rest."

Acier gulped, her chest heaving, and nodded faintly. Sebastian brushed his thumb over her lips before continuing, his expression heavy with emotion.

"Promise me something, Acier."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, focusing on him. "Depends on what you're asking."

Clicking his tongue, Sebastian hesitated before rephrasing. "Promise me... if I ever turn into that again, you'll give up on me. Force me away. From House Silva. From your lives."

Her answer was instant. She shook her head, resolute. "No."

"Acier!" Sebastian growled, frustration bleeding into his voice. "Think about the kids—"

His words were cut short as Acier's hand clamped over his jaw, her fingers digging in hard enough to make him wince.

Sweat trickled down his forehead as she glared at him with fury.

"Don't you dare use our children as leverage to justify something like that!" she hissed, her voice sharp and venomous.

Sebastian tried to nod, but Acier's iron grip kept him frozen in place.

"Mfhm-hmm." His attempts to speak came out as muffled sounds.

Acier's dark stare bore into him. "It's my turn to speak. You shut up and listen. Understand?"

It didn't matter what Sebastian thought because Acier shook his head up and down for him, forcing his compliance.

"You think I'm just thinking about myself? That I'm being a selfish bitch who's so hopelessly obsessed with you she can't let go?!"

Sebastian winced, guilt creeping into his thoughts. Well, I wouldn't have put it so crudely, or insensitively, but...

Her grip tightened, making his jaw ache and his eyes water. It was as if she'd read his mind.

"Maybe I am a bit selfish, Sebby," she admitted, her voice sharp. "But it's not just about that. Do you really think you can say something as outlandish as you just did and expect me to ignore it?!"

Her fingers dug into his skin, her anger palpable.

"Maybe if I hadn't known the reason—if I still thought you'd just decided to be an asshole again—I would've drawn the line. Maybe I'd have finally said I'd had enough. But now that I know the truth? I'll never let go."

Her voice rose with conviction.

"If you want me to kick you out, I won't. If you want to run away, I'll chain you to this bed like a dog! I'm not leaving you out there alone, to face whatever fate that sick bastard has arranged for you!"

Sebastian's breath hitched as Acier leaned closer, her tone dropping to a simmering fury.

"I don't know what he planned for you before, or what he's planning now, but I'd bet my life it has something to do with your influence and power as Lord Silva. Kicking you out—letting you go—means losing that power. And then what? What worth do you have to him? He'll tie up loose ends and do away with you!"

Her voice cracked slightly, but her determination held firm.

"Do you really expect me to sentence my husband to death? To ignore him and let him walk straight into it?!"

Sebastian's pupils dilated as she continued, her words relentless.

"And what of the children? If it were you from before, maybe they would've accepted it. But Nozel, Nebra, Solid, and Noelle—they love you now. They adore you. How do you think they'd react to losing you?"

Her voice softened, but the intensity of her words didn't waver.

"And Dorothy? You mean everything to that girl. Sure, she loves Nozel, but you're the one who brought her into this family. You gave her a family. Whatever vision of family she has in her heart, I guarantee you're at the center of it. Losing you would break her."

Tears welled in her eyes again, but her voice remained strong.

"You think telling you to leave would make anyone happy? That it would keep anyone safe? A father is the pillar of a family, Sebastian. Without you in our lives, in some shape or form, we will collapse."

Sebastian's throat tightened, and his heart ached as Acier finally released his jaw. Her hands slid up to cradle his face, her anger giving way to tenderness.

Her expression softened, gratitude and love replacing the fury. "It seems we took you for granted before. I rarely asked myself—or even let myself think—that you might have been struggling, too."

Her thumbs brushed his cheeks as her voice trembled with emotion.

"But now I know for certain. You were. And not only that, but at the same time, you were secretly looking out for us. Protecting us from the shadows, in your own way."

Sebastian trembled under her gaze, his voice shaking. "How can you say something like that? I don't remember doing anything like that at all."

Acier's lips twitched with the faintest smile as she pinched his cheeks, her touch firm but playful.

"You told me this man could make Julius do things unknowingly, right? So there must be gaps in his memory. And your situation seems... reversed. Julius seemed to be more in control of himself and rarely lost control. While you—"

Her voice softened, though her words carried a heavy weight.

"You were more like a puppet. Rarely regaining control of your own body."

She let her hands fall to rest on his shoulders, her gaze piercing.

"So maybe the things you remember aren't yours. Maybe the only memories you have are what that bastard forced your body to do, not the things you did yourself."

Sebastian averted his gaze, mumbling, "That's just a theory—a wild one at that. You have no evidence—"

"When Nozel was five, you saved him from that maid."

Sebastian's head snapped toward Acier, his brows furrowed deeply as she continued.

"If you hadn't acted, I would've been too late. I would have only arrived after his innocence was stolen." Her voice was steady, but the weight of her words hung in the air.

"You wouldn't have been able to react in time—wouldn't have even known—unless you were secretly watching over Nozel. Monitoring the people who had something against him."

Sebastian groaned, grabbing his forehead as a sharp headache pulsed through his skull. Acier's hands gently cupped his face, grounding him.

"You don't remember, do you, Sebby?" Her voice hitched, her breath catching as she swallowed hard.

"If you don't believe me, you can ask Alfred, Jeeves, Hilda, or even Nozel himself—"

"Why would I ever doubt you over something like this?!" Sebastian cut her off, his voice a mixture of anger and disbelief.

Acier flinched slightly but quickly regained her composure. A soft smile broke through her stern expression. "That's just the biggest one that comes to mind. But I think we're going to need to dive into those missing memories of yours somehow."

Sebastian shook his head immediately. "It's not worth the trouble—or the trauma. Who knows what we might uncover, or what kind of traps or restrictions he might have left behind."

Acier's grip on his face tightened, her frown deep and resolute. "It's absolutely worth it."

"Why?" Sebastian gritted through clenched teeth.

"Because until you face it, you'll never be able to forgive yourself—or truly live your life." Her voice was calm but firm, filled with an unwavering determination.

"You're always telling others to look to the future, to live in the present, but you're the one trapped. Stuck in your past more than anyone else."

Sebastian stiffened as Acier's hands slid to wrap gently around his neck, her touch neither threatening nor hesitant.

"You're constantly trying to atone for a past others have moved on from, digging up wounds we've already healed. You want everyone else to change and grow into better versions of themselves, but you're determined to stay frozen in time. You're afraid to move forward in our relationship—even though we both know you love me more than you dare to admit."

Her voice softened, carrying a vulnerability that made Sebastian's heart ache.

"It might be a lot coming from me, Sebby, but you need closure. And I need closure."

Sebastian leaned in closer, his brow furrowing. "What do you mean?"

Acier glanced around the room before sighing, her resolve cracking just enough to let her own vulnerability seep through.

"Last night, I had a dream. A very real dream. I remembered things—things I had either forgotten or confused for something else. I think I'm starting to piece together why I became so... infatuated with you. But I need to relive those memories to be sure."

She pulled him down until he was practically lying on top of her, their faces mere inches apart.

"So, Sebby..." Her voice was tinged with nervous anticipation. "Will you relive your memories—and mine—with me?"

Sebastian didn't respond immediately. He turned his head toward the window, his gaze distant as he stared at the crescent moon, obscured by drifting clouds.

When he finally looked back at her, he captured her lips in a quick, fleeting kiss.

Acier didn't blush, simply savoring the moment before he sat back up, his form towering over her.

A long silence passed before he sighed in defeat.

"Fine. But—"

"But?" Acier prompted, her curiosity piqued.

Sebastian furrowed his brows before shaking his head. "But I need to talk to someone first. Someone I've been avoiding. I need answers—and assurance that this is safe."

"Azazel?" Acier asked knowingly.

Sebastian nodded. "Azazel."

Though not particularly religious in his past life, Sebastian had always known of the fallen angel. It wasn't until now—thanks to Nacht's offhand comment before he traumatized the boy—that the significance of Azazel's name hit him.

How had he overlooked it when Draven introduced his devil and revealed Azazel's ability to access forbidden knowledge?

Sebastian's eyes narrowed, his fingers absentmindedly running through Acier's silver hair.

"There's no way that guy is a mere mid-rank."

Acier smiled knowingly, nodding in agreement. "I think so too."

Author's Notes:

[1] Nozel's birthday is December 30th, so the day after is December 31st, hence happy new years

[2] Switching between stories becomes painful and hinders the thought train, I'm going to focus on this main story, and wrap up volume 1, which will end with Dorothy's and Nozel's engagement before returning to the alternative story

[3] My next exam isn't till January 8th, and I'm not particularly worried about that one, so you shouldn't have to worry about the update schedule being interrupted unless of course life gets in the way. My parents are probably going to take advantage of me, and have me do all the chores and whatnot now

[4] In some way I'm actually grateful for the Hiatus, because before then this story was discovery writing, meaning taking it Chapter by Chapter, not planning out anything substantial beforehand, and going off a few stray ideas.

It worked well till Nacht's nightmare, but then the idea train seemed to derail and I started to have to bang my head, to force out some ideas, and decide where to go from there.

During the hiatus I was able to plan out and brainstorm the general direction for Volume [1], the start of Volume [2], and a possible overarching and overreaching story, that I'm not 100% committed to right now.

Whatever my point is, if you think the quality increased over the rest of the volume hip hip hooray, if not, well maybe I should just stick to discovery writing.

See you tomorrow!