What to do?

The biggest problem in communication is we do not listen to understand. We listen to reply. We listen to retort. We listen to refuse. - Patrick Star

—

Spade Kingdom Throne Room

Silence. Deathly silence consumed the millennia-old grand hall.

Zenon, standing stiffly and emotionlessly, looked up, taking in his possible eldest brother, Dante—a tall and slim man with green eyes, slicked-back black hair, a mustache and goatee, and a jagged black mark running along his forehead—seated on the king's throne.

Usually calm and content, Dante sported a rare and uncharacteristic frown while tapping rhythmically at the golden armrest with his fingernail.

Strangely, it didn't produce a single sound.

A moment later, Dante Zogratis absentmindedly parted his mouth. "Vanica is dead?"

Zenon nodded curtly and repeated for the umpteenth time, "Yes."

Finally, Dante's glazed eyes focused, his pupils steadying as he snapped his fingers.

A magical projection screen appeared out of nowhere, revealing the image of a silver-haired, lavender-eyed woman. Naturally, this was Acier Silva.

"It was her?"

Zenon held back a sigh and repeated once more. "Yes."

Dante started grinding his teeth, his heart constricting as he clamped down on his anxiety. Dante Zogratis was a vulgar man, with no shame in indulging in the most primal emotions and acts every day.

Naturally, lust and women were among them. There were only two instances in his life when he had felt attracted to a woman as more than a mere commodity to bed. The first was Queen Ciel, consort of the late Spade King, Loyce.

Dante slaughtered Loyce with his own hands and planned to capture Ciel, to take her for himself. But by some stroke of misfortune, she managed to escape from his grasp, disappearing during the coup.

Whether she was dead or still alive, running alongside the band of weak misfits known as the resistance—who somehow always managed to evade capture—, or somewhere else entirely, Dante wasn't sure.

She had not been spotted in nearly a year. Not once, since the Zogratis' siblings rebellion. 

The second woman to ever move his heart, one he had never personally met, was the one in the projection before him. The supposed strongest woman in the world.

However, Dante never bothered targeting her or making a move to fetch her, because she was Vanica's toy. And he knew that if he wanted Vanica to behave long enough to play along with their upcoming schemes, he couldn't take her toys from her.

So he lost interest. After all, what fun could a mere woman bring him compared to the supreme joy of a world dyed in black and consumed by living manifestations of all things evil, pouring out relentlessly from hell?

Just because Dante was a vulgar man didn't mean he wasn't aware of priorities. He knew how to abstain from momentary bliss in exchange for an eternity of ecstasy and malice.

But now, that world of malevolence seemed to be slipping through his fingers—all due to the hands of the same woman he had dismissed as a toy. As nothing.

The millennia-old golden throne, the piece of history he sat on, shattered—crumbling to rubble and messy chunks—as Dante squeezed the armrests to bits with his hands.

His green eyes turned into red, vertical slits as he bellowed in fury. "Absolutely unforgivable! Who does that harlot think she is?! And if Vanica was such a weakling, she should've stayed home!"

Zenon showed no outward reaction to his brother's outburst, merely speaking in a bored tone. "If you're done whining like a petulant child, we can start considering our next steps."

Dante's forehead vein bulged as he held back a sneer. "You're getting quite arrogant these days, little brother. Do remember just who it was that failed to rescue Vanica and who needed me to save him in turn."

Once again, Zenon displayed not a hint of displeasure at his brother's words or actions and merely responded in monotone.

"That doesn't change the fact that should that woman come here and hunt us down, both of us are helpless. We need a plan."

Dante smiled darkly at Zenon. "Speak for yourself, Zenon. I'm contracted to the strongest devil in existence. That woman coming here is just offering herself up on a silver platter—"

"Incorrect."

Dante was interrupted by a deep and malevolent voice that made him pause, while Zenon stiffened slightly, finally showing some emotion.

Behind Dante, a pitch-black shadow, outlined in blue like a silhouette, took the shape of a giant four-winged figure with two pairs of horns on its head, nearly touching the ceiling with its sheer size.

It continued in a distinctly male voice—one that was both beastly and regal, as if it existed above all things.

"You can only use 70% of my mana right now. The most I can pass through into this world with the gate closed to you is 80%... and even then, although I only caught a glimpse of that woman, I'm positive that if she's serious, you stand no chance."

Dante looked furious for a moment before regaining his calm and shaking his head. "Let's say I believe you for a moment—which I don't. But let's say I do... Why should we be worried? It's not like she knows who we are or what we're up to. Vanica didn't go and yell that to her and the world—"

"Hey now, have you been sleeping?"

Once again, Dante was interrupted.

Behind Zenon, a similar black silhouette emerged, revealing another tall figure—this one with four horns of different shapes, two wings instead of four, and sharp claws.

The silhouette opened its mouth to reveal a white maw and smiled eerily as it glanced at the figure behind Dante.

"Is your host stupid or something, Lucifer-o? Was he not listening? That woman knew Zenon's identity, and I bet she knows his as well. Not to mention, their grimoires are a dead giveaway."

The figure added the "o" to Lucifer in a split second—fast enough that only Lucifero noticed. Zenon didn't pick up on the mishap by his devil. Neither did Dante.

Dante's face blackened all over again as he shot up from the remainder of the throne he sat on.

Gravity exploded from his body, crushing the last bits of the throne to dust as he floated up to be eye-level with the enormous silhouette behind Zenon. His body was barely the size of the figure's eyes.

"Who are you to look down on me, Beelzebub? Remember who's chained like a dog in a pit where birds don't even shit."

Beelzebub gave one look at the speck in front of him before turning back to Lucifero with the same grin.

"What's our move now, my oh-so-great king?" Beelzebub's voice came out sly and mocking, not carrying a hint of respect.

Lucifero was silent for a second, showing no visible reaction or displeasure to the offense, before speaking in his deep voice. "Stand down, Dante. He's right."

Dante turned in the air and looked at Lucifero, utterly unamused. "What's with that tone, Lucifero? Remember, I'm not your servant but your host and partner. All your desires are dependent on my cooperation. You don't get to order me around."

Lucifero snorted. "My desires are also yours. And do remember—you're nothing without me. You wouldn't even be strong enough to best that joke of a man you once knelt before as your king were it not for my power. Your desires are also dependent on my cooperation. Even if you open the gate, without my permission, no devil would dare walk out."

"That's not true for us Supreme Ranks." Beelzebub chuckled.

Lucifero didn't even deign Beelzebub a glance, remaining focused on his host.

Dante matched the King of Devils' glare for a moment before snorting and floating down to stand on the marble floor.

Watching as his elder brother… no, possibly his sole elder sibling, went silent, Zenon narrowed his eyes and spoke matter-of-factly.

"For the Advent of Qliphoth, we need three devil hosts, each contracted to a ruler of the underworld. With Vanica dead, what are we to do?"

The room went silent for a moment before Lucifero spoke, seemingly unbothered. "There's no rush. If that was all that mattered, we had fulfilled that criteria months ago. There were other reasons we hadn't acted yet."

Zenon and Dante blinked before understanding settled in.

There were three main reasons.

The first was that they—the Dark Triad, now Dark Duo—needed to be capable of steadily and easily drawing out the maximum power their devils could exert on this world.

Vanica could only draw out 70% for a few moments. Dante was the same with 80%. And Zenon, at most, could use 40% right now.

They weren't ready yet.

The second reason had to do with the sacrifices for the Tree of Qliphoth—the two holders of arcane attributes: William Vangeance of World Tree Magic and Yami Sukehiro of Dark Magic.

Right now, they were just brats who had only recently acquired their grimoires a few months ago. As they were, they were far too weak to serve as sacrifices capable of lasting long enough for the ritual to open all seven levels of the underworld. They might not even be enough to open the first level.

They needed time to grow stronger, at least reaching Stage Zero before they were ready.

So, the Dark Triad had given them space to mature, planning to capture them only after that.

And that brought them to the last barrier, actually capturing them.

There was no way to do so without alerting the entire Clover Kingdom and provoking a response—because those two boys weren't nobodies.

That would put them against the Wizard King, Conrad Leto—famous across the lands—and their guardian, Julius Novachrono.

Thinking about Julius made Dante clench his fist and smile darkly.

Although they'd never met, Dante had always felt jealous of that man—the holder of the arcane attribute, Time Magic.

Partly because, according to Lucifero, no one in existence should be able to control time directly—except for the former Demon Lord, Astaroth, who had vanished to who knows where.

Just as no one in existence should be able to use gravity naturally, save for Lucifero himself.

Moreover, Julius Novachrono was the guardian of Yami and William—the exact two pieces Dante needed.

Dante had always been interested in meeting him, confronting him, and figuring out what kind of man he was.

Unfortunately, he had to restrain himself. Their plans weren't ready to be put into motion yet, and confronting him now would be pointless.

For now, all they had to do was train and brainstorm how to capture Yami and William when they were ready—quickly, before Clover could react, and complete the ritual.

But that plan had gone up in smoke.

Because now, not only did they have another strong foe to worry about—one who might very well be onto their plans—but they'd also lost a required devil host.

Dante clenched his jaw, his frustration boiling over. "What's the point?! We can't do anything without Megicula, and she demands a female host! Where the hell are we supposed to find one strong enough—and willing to cooperate with her and us?!"

Lucifero regarded his host with cold indifference. "Megicula has countless ways to force cooperation. She won't repeat her mistake of indulging a fool like your sister. All you need to do is capture a powerful enough female mage… though that silver-haired woman might be an exception."

Dante's eyes snapped up, incredulous. "Is that supposed to satisfy me? Was that your best attempt at being helpful? Because if it was, you should keep quiet. That was a whole lot of nothing."

His mind raced through the few possibilities.

The Heart Queen—powerful, but she didn't have many years left, and Undine made her nearly untouchable.

The Witch Queen—an enigma, unpredictable, with abilities that defied logic.

The Blue Rose Captain—possibly strong enough, but attacking her would mean outright war with Clover.

And Acier Silva—who they didn't dare face.

Which meant… they had no real options.

"Dante."

Lucifero's voice dropped into a growl, his patience thinning. "You're not the only one who's frustrated. I've waited thousands of years for freedom. You? A mere few.

Just shut up and listen."

Dante snorted as he and Zenon looked up at the King of Devils, who went silent for a moment before speaking again.

"Although I would rather not work with them… Megicula isn't the only option."

Beelzebub narrowed his eyes slightly, while Dante perked up in interest.

"Who's them?"

The black mark on Dante's forehead opened like a jagged mouth, revealing a purple abyss from within as Lucifero's voice came out of it.

"Lucifugus of Dark Magic—ruler of the Sixth Level and the fourth highest-ranked devil. And Baal of Air Magic—ruler of the Fifth and the fifth highest-ranked devil on Qliphoth."

The room went silent for a moment before Beelzebub chuckled.

"They're more than capable of replacing Megicula… as long as we find a host for either of them."

Dante and Zenon exchanged a glance as Beelzebub's eerie laughter echoed. "You might be wondering why we've never mentioned either of them before?"

"Beelzebub…" Lucifero's voice dropped into a warning growl, but the other Demon Lord paid him no mind.

Dante smirked. "Are you going to tell us?"

"Of course," Beelzebub replied, grinning. "It's not exactly a secret. Just like humans, devils are anything but united. Those two are closer to your world than to us, so if the ritual succeeds and they manifest, they might just shut the gate before we at the seventh level emerge. Then they'd have this world all to themselves."

Dante scoffed. "Three great Demon Lords can't rein in two underlings?"

Beelzebub's grin remained unfazed. "Those two aren't like the others. They're very different. Especially Lucifugus—he's stronger than Megicula, you know? Much stronger."

Dante froze. His smirk faded. "Stronger?"

"Yes." Beelzebub nodded. "Even when Astaroth was still here, Lucifugus was in the fourth seat. Megicula was only fifth."

Zenon's eyes narrowed. "Then why hasn't he taken Astaroth's place?"

Beelzebub's ever-present smile dimmed slightly. His voice took on a rare solemnity. "That's not something that concerns you right now."

Zenon clicked his tongue but let it drop. "Regardless, even if we find a host for one of them—whether they cooperate willingly or we force them—that's not our main issue. What we lack is time. That woman could come for us any day now, and possibly with some of Clover's finest. What do we do? Run and lay low?"

"Absolutely not!" Dante's voice crackled with fury. "Spade is mine. No one will take it from me."

Zenon barely spared him a glance before ignoring him. His goal had always been the strongest Spade, the strongest kingdom—fleeing was never a real suggestion.

Lucifero watched Dante's outburst and tsked inwardly. Why did I end up with such a fool for a host? A weakling who doesn't even understand his place in the world.

Suppressing his thoughts to keep them from leaking into their mental link, Lucifero's voice emerged once more from the jagged mark on Dante's forehead.

"No. The location of the Tree of Qliphoth is just as important as the ingredients and sacrifices. This wintry land of malevolence—Spade—has seen the most devil activity among the four kingdoms. It is prime."

"We will not give it up."

Silence settled over the room. Beelzebub, Dante, and Zenon watched Lucifero's dark silhouette, waiting.

The jagged mouth on Dante's forehead sealed shut, and Lucifero's voice emerged again.

"If time is what we need, then we will take it. We'll distract that woman and Clover with a far greater threat—one that will force them to look away from us."

Dante's eyes narrowed. "And what exactly would that be?"

Lucifero went quiet for the briefest moment before speaking with cold finality.

"I would rather never do this. But we are beyond helpless now. It's time to visit an old friend."

For the first time, Beelzebub's eternal grin faltered. His pupils shrank. "Lucifer—"

"Dante." Lucifero cut him off sharply, looking down at his host. "I need you to go somewhere for me."

Dante blinked in confusion, but Lucifero didn't pause.

"It may not be the vision you were hoping for, but it seems you'll have your hell on earth soon enough."

Dante's bewilderment melted into a slow, malevolent grin. He didn't care about the means—only the result. A world of malice, stripped of masks and pretense. A world where humans acted as they truly were—primitive, ruthless, unrestrained.

Zenon watched in silence, his expression unreadable. He spoke through his mental link with Beelzebub.

Does this violate our pact? My condition to create the strongest kingdom?

Beelzebub's grin returned, but his response was strangely absentminded.

Not really… That lech isn't the type to destroy… at least, not physically…

He trailed off without elaborating. Zenon frowned but knew he wouldn't get more.

With a quiet sigh, he resigned himself to waiting, standing stiffly while Dante continued his conversation with the King of Devils.

He regretted not stopping Vanica from leaving.

—

House Silva, Patriarch's Office

After breakfast, Sebastian sat at his desk, signing parchment after parchment, stamping and reviewing bills, motions, legislations, and contracts.

Across from him, Acier sat in silence, watching. Then, finally, she spoke.

"I thought you finished the paperwork yesterday. What's all this?"

Sebastian didn't even glance up. "New paperwork comes in every day. And since it's the first of the month, there's even more. Especially with Nozel and Dorothy's engagement ceremony just a week away."

Acier frowned. "That's estate and internal business. Isn't that my job?"

Sebastian paused, then looked up with a small smile. "Yeah, but I was already working on this before you took over, and we don't have time for a transition. I want—no, need everything to be perfect for them, so let me handle it, alright?"

Acier studied him for a moment before smiling softly. "Sure thing, Sebby."

Sebastian grinned. "Wonderful. Nebra's coming-of-age ceremony is in October—I'll leave that one to you."

Acier snorted, flicking her ponytail. "Like I need your permission." But her smug expression, along with the faint blush dusting her cheeks, made it obvious she was pleased.

Sebastian chuckled and shook his head, but Acier wasn't done. She raised a brow. "What about Dorothy? Noble ladies have their ceremonies between twelve and fifteen. She's already fifteen."

Sebastian hesitated before narrowing his eyes. "Do we really need to have one for her? She's not noble by birth—she's marrying into the house. Why should she have to follow every aristocratic custom?"

Acier gave him a dry, unimpressed look. "Sebby. She's the future Matriarch of House Silva, future Duchess of a royal house. Of course, she needs one."

Sebastian exhaled through his nose, grinding his teeth slightly. He knew Acier was right.

"I know you don't want to burden her," she continued, "but she'll face enough flack and discrimination as it is—especially as a foreigner. Skipping this would only make it worse."

Sebastian exhaled, nodding reluctantly. "Fine. We'll hold hers after we get back from our trip to Heart."

Acier smiled at the mention of the trip, only to tilt her head. "That means two ceremonies in October."

Sebastian shook his head. "Nebra turns twelve in October, but she doesn't have to have her ceremony on the day of. We still need to ask if she even wants it this year or if she'd rather wait."

He tapped his quill against the desk, thinking aloud. "If she wants to delay it, great. If not, that's fine too—we'll move it to November. Two ceremonies in one month would be strange, and Nebra might feel overshadowed by the grandeur of Dorothy's. But we'll make sure she feels just as appreciated."

Acier paused, then grinned as a blush crept up her face. "Aww, Sebby, you really love your daughters. I could just eat you up right now."

Sebastian blinked at her. Then, without a word, he turned back to his paperwork.

The room filled with the steady sound of his quill scratching against parchment. Some documents he signed off, others he marked for review, and a few—mostly garbage—he trashed outright.

Marriage offers.

Some were still trying to win over Nozel. Others had already set their sights on his other children. A few were even bold enough to offer him a concubine or two.

Sebastian didn't even hesitate—he ripped them apart on the spot.

By the audible grinding of Acier's teeth, he knew he had made the right call.

When he came across her offers, his fury burned just as hot. Some nobles had the audacity to send proposals for her. He committed those house names to memory.

He wondered if she did the same for the ones that came for him.

Who was he kidding? She definitely did the same.

Still, the number of proposals had significantly dropped. What once numbered in the hundreds had dwindled to mere dozens.

That, at least, was progress. His growing political influence, the rare unity of the three royal houses, the notoriety he'd gained from besting Mereoleona, and the news of Acier's recovery had forced most of the vultures to back off.

Most—but not all. Some never did learn their place.

Sebastian wasn't concerned. He'd deal with them in due time.

For now, he settled for a bit of stress relief.

Every time a marriage offer arrived for their family, he and Acier took turns creatively destroying them—physically or with magic. Sebastian soaked some into soggy lumps; Acier shredded hers into dust.

Each time, they grinned at each other.

Until Acier accidentally shredded something important.

Sebastian's smile fell as he watched the remains of a document slip through her fingers. A document from Damnatio, stamped with the seals of Conrad, Augustus, Ignatius—regarding the Clover Kingdom's new initiative to uplift the forsaken and common realms.

Acier winced, rubbing the back of her head sheepishly. "Oopsies."

Sebastian sighed, eyeing the halved document. At least she hadn't completely destroyed it.

Whatever. Dorothy could probably use some of Glamour World's power to piece it back together… right?

Sebastian felt slightly guilty about relying on his daughter-in-law to bail him and Acier out.

But only slightly.

That was his privilege as her father.

Sebastian carefully placed the sliced document into his desk drawer, then crossed his hands on the table and looked at Acier.

"Well, I'm free now. What do you want to do? Spend time with our children? Maybe a little training? Something else?"

Acier smiled and shook her head. "We'll get to training, but after lunch. Right now, I want to talk to you about something else."

Something else? Sebastian raised a brow before coughing into his fist. "If this is about Alfred, j-just give me a little while to figure out how to break the news to him."

Acier stifled a giggle. "No, silly. Didn't I tell you? You have until the end of the year with Alfred. Take your time with him."

Sebastian let out an undisguised sigh of relief, placing a hand on his chest as he nodded. "Alright. Then what is this about?"

Acier beamed, reaching into her satchel and pulling out a large, folded sheet of ancient yet pristine parchment.

Sebastian's pupils dilated. He recognized it immediately—the family register.

Acier, gauging his reaction, smiled and unfurled it like a scroll, holding it up so only she could see, blocking his view.

Sebastian gulped. "Acier—"

"Sebby." Acier cut him off, her voice coming from behind the register like a screen, her tone unreadable. "Two days ago, I was going through some paperwork. Got a little bored, so I decided to take a look at this. Haven't seen it since you added Noelle's name." She hummed. "Now, color me surprised when I found two new additions—or rather, one change—that made me quite angry."

"Oh, and I'm not talking about Dorothy's name. I've long been prepared for that."

Sebastian forced a strained smile. "Acier, if you just let me explain—"

"Sebby." She lowered the parchment, smiling at him—not sweetly. "I'm speaking."

Sebastian clicked his tongue before sighing and rubbing his forehead. "Alright, go ahead."

Acier beamed and turned the register toward him, pointing wordlessly at his name, written to the left of hers, connected with a solid line.

Then, slowly, she shifted her hand farther left, revealing another name connected to his with a dashed line.

Aurora Silva.

Acier spoke softly. "When did you do that?"

Sebastian bit his lip. "The morning after the dream."

Acier cocked her head. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Sebastian sighed, chewing his lip further. "I-I was just doing it for myself. My own conscience. My own gratification. I didn't want to cause a scene or any drama."

He met her unreadable gaze and held it. "Are you—no, why are you mad?"

Acier narrowed her eyes. "I'm not mad about you adding her name. I'm upset you did it behind my back, like it was something you needed to hide from me or our children. If you're adding her, it means you're recognizing her as real—a real Silva. That makes her my sister-in-law. Their aunt. I think they have a right to know. And I think Aurora deserves a proper grave or memorial instead of that hole under a tree."

Sebastian clenched his jaw. "Like I said, Acier, I did this for myself. Something no one else needs to know. I'm sorry for hiding it from you, but even if Aurora was real to me—to the other me—she wasn't, she isn't real to this world. I won't start a scandal by giving her some public tribute of existence beyond this."

"Besides, I don't want Nebra, Solid, or even Noelle feeling sad, conflicted, grieving for someone who was never part of their lives. The same goes for you, Nozel, and Dorothy. Giving her a tombstone could open a can of worms, ones that might expose your grandfather's schemes. That could hurt a lot of people—especially our children. I don't want that. I don't want them to feel sad for me, or guilty. So let's drop this, alright?"

Acier blanked for a moment, processing his words before sighing and nodding. "Fine. But don't blame me if Nozel does something extreme once he takes over the house."

She smirked. "After all, our little Nozel seems to really love his Papa these days."

Sebastian's face heated up instantly. He averted his gaze, stuttering, "I—I get it. I-is that all?"

"No. It's not."

Acier's cold answer sent a chill down Sebastian's spine. He craned his head back to face her, taken aback by the dark look in her eyes.

She smiled—anything but sweet. "Didn't I say there were two things that caught me off guard?"

She pointed back to the register. Back to his name.

Sebastian Theodorus Silva.

Theodorus was crossed out.

Sebastian blinked, furrowing his brows, looking utterly baffled. "You're upset about this? You despise my father."

Acier nodded calmly. "Yes, I do. That's why I'm more than happy you finally divested yourself of his filthy name."

Sebastian felt a headache coming on. "Acier…" he began gently, "...can you please just tell me what I did wrong here? Besides doing it behind your back, that is."

Acier's eyes narrowed. "You tell me, Sebby. What are you supposed to do after crossing out his name—besides consulting me?"

Sebastian blinked. Am I retarded or something? Mentally challenged? What am I supposed to do?

He kept that thought to himself, trying to think—until Acier suddenly reached across the table, grabbed his quill, dipped it in ink, and held up the register for him to see.

"This," she said smoothly.

She wrote. Just a few strokes.

Sebastian went stiff. His breath hitched. His pupils dilated as he shook his head vehemently. "Acier, no."

Acier smiled. "Acier, yes."

Sebastian ground his teeth. "W-why? Y-you can't just do that! Not without my permission—not without anyone's permission!"

Her smile never wavered. "Yes, I can. And yes, I did. And you can't stop me. Nor can anyone. I gave myself permission." She tilted her head. "You'll just have to accept it."

Sebastian shook his head violently. "No, I don't! And no, I won't! Stop it! I won't accept it!"

Acier regarded him calmly. "Why?"

"W-what do you mean why?" he hissed, swiftly losing his composure. "I—I'm not worthy! I let him down! I hurt him—I hurt them! Y-you can't just write that! No one will accept it!"

Acier set the register down and placed a gentle hand on his cheek.

"He treated you as his son. Loved you as his son." She stroked his face lightly. "You should reciprocate that love. If he saw you as his child, you should acknowledge him back as your father. And as for my mother and sister… who cares what they think? They don't even need to know. This can be our little secret."

Sebastian clenched his jaw. "Weren't you just complaining about keeping secrets from our family?"

Acier smirked slyly. "Yes. But when I say our family, I mean you and our children. Because I love you all the most, above anyone else I'm related to. Besides," she hummed, "my sister's a Vermillion. This doesn't even concern her."

Sebastian squinted. "That's not fair to her. And there's still your mother. You're being really hypocritical right now, Acier."

Acier beamed. "I know." Her voice was practically proud. "But like I said—you and our children are my truest family. Of course, I love my daddy just as much. And to the very end, he loved you that way. If he acknowledged you, that's all that should matter to you. Especially when you acknowledge him that way." She nudged the register toward him. "Show your real father some love, alright, Sebby?"

Sebastian's eyes stung as he looked down at the page.

Sebastian Theodorus Silva, was now fully crossed out.

And above his former name…

Another, written in an elegant script.

Sebastian Nathaniel Silva.

Sebastian bit his lip until he drew blood, shivering slightly before nodding, sniffling hoarsely.

"…Alright."

Acier's eyes watered as she gave him a blooming, emotional smile. Slowly, she stood up, grasping his wrist and urging him to do the same. He raised a brow.

"A-Acier?" Sebastian called uncertainly.

Then he froze.

She trembled, her lips quivering.

"My daddy passed away on August 17th." Her voice wavered. "Two days after your birthday. Two days after you woke up. I-I wanted to ask you to come with me that day—to visit his grave for his death anniversary."

She took a shaky breath.

"But y-you left for Hage, and I… I didn't have the courage to make you stay. I-I also didn't have the courage to leave my bed at night to see him. I was afraid to expose my recovery…"

Her fingers tightened slightly around his wrist.

"That was the first time in eleven years that I didn't visit my father." She swallowed hard. "W-will you come with me now… to see my daddy?"

Sebastian stood frozen. A thousand thunderbolts rang through his mind.

The night he left for Hage… Acier had tried—strangely tried—to convince him to stay. Said she wanted to talk.

He found it odd, but he had been too focused on Dorothy, too worried about letting her slip from his grasp. So, he left anyway, ignoring the hurt in Acier's eyes. He had chalked it up to her just wanting to spend more time alone with him.

He had promised himself he'd make it up to her later.

He thought he had.

Now, he understood.

She had simply wanted him to go with her. To visit her father's grave. To pay her respects with him—something they had never truly done, not since the day of Nathaniel's passing.

And even then, his presence had offered no warmth. No solace.

Maybe she had been hoping he could help her sneak out unnoticed. That he'd know without her saying it. But because he insisted on leaving… she hadn't dared. Hadn't wanted to spoil his plans.

Sebastian didn't regret going to Hage. The joy, stability, and change Dorothy had brought into their household—her role in saving Acier, in curing Nozel—made his decision one of the best he'd ever made.

But still.

A twinge of disappointment settled in his chest.

Not at her. At himself.

Nathaniel's death anniversary had completely slipped his mind.

He also felt a bit of frustration with her.

Acier… she hadn't found the courage to tell him.

Then again, he had only just switched back into being a civil husband the day before. Could he really blame her?

Part of her might have still been scared his change was just another of many, sick jokes to toy with her heart. Or even if not, maybe she was just afraid of him rejecting her. 

Sebastian exhaled softly.

He walked around his desk and wrapped his arms around her.

Acier tensed for a moment, then melted into his embrace.

He placed a gentle kiss on her head and whispered, "Alright. Let's go."

Acier looked up at him, teary with gratitude. He wiped her tears away, voice low.

"We had this talk before—back in Raque." He met her eyes. "Don't pretend with me. Don't hide what you're feeling. I'm not a psychic, and I hate that feeling."

"Mmm-hmm." Acier nodded and rested her head against his chest.

Sebastian ran his fingers through her hair. "Just us? Or our kids as well?"

Acier looked up once more. "Just us, please."

Sebastian nodded softly.

—

House Silva Cemetery

In the grand and lush private cemetery, Sebastian and Acier sat quietly on a pair of garden chairs, in front of a trio of graves.

Their attention wasn't on the first two, though a pair of fresh lilies were placed on Nicklaus' and Acyer's gravestone. 

Their only focus was on the gravestone in front of them. 

The grave of the previous Silva patriarch, and their father, Nathaniel Silva.

They read the inscribed message feeling emotional.

Here lies the great Nathaniel Silva, a beloved son, husband, father, and grandfather. A dear friend. A mighty warrior. A pillar of the Kingdom. May he rest in peace.

1547 - 1608

Sebastian and Acier continued to sit in silence, hand resting on the other's lap, for two hours, before they got up and left with a polite bow.

They each left a carnation in their leave, one deep red, and the other purple.

—

Author's Notes:

[1] There's been a bit of a shakeup in my exam schedule. Instead of both being on February 25th, one has moved to March 4th, so keep that in mind going forward, for breaks. 

[2] As always feel free to join our discord, https://discord.gg/s3MME8X8ar