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55.78% Reborn As Papa Silva / Chapter 53: Their Story (3): The Introduction

Kapitel 53: Their Story (3): The Introduction

"My Lady... what exactly are we doing?" Hilda asked hesitantly, her gaze flicking across the circular coffee table to Acier.

"Mm?" Acier responded absentmindedly, not bothering to look at her maid. She rested her cheek against her propped-up right hand, elbow bent on the table, her gaze fixed to the left on a single spot she hadn't looked away from in an hour.

They sat on the outdoor balcony of a café overlooking Kikka's bustling marketplace, a quaint place Acier had dragged Hilda to after breakfast. She'd rented the entire balcony until lunchtime—an indulgence Hilda couldn't question but didn't fully understand.

Hilda tried to ignore the untouched array of decadent sweets on their table, focusing instead on where her princess's gaze lingered. Below, amidst the throngs of vendors and shoppers, she spotted him. The boy.

He was silver-haired, sitting stiff and emotionless at a shabby makeshift stall with little effort in its construction. A crude sign dangled above his station: "Medical Clinic." He looked like a hollow vessel—an empty shell in tattered clothing, barely alive.

Hilda's stomach churned. Why was her princess so fixated on him? They had arrived at the marketplace only an hour ago, yet the moment Acier's eyes landed on the boy, she had lit up with excitement to an extent Hilda hadn't seen in years. Without a word, she had rented the balcony, sat down, and proceeded to silently stare.

Her princess hadn't touched the delicacies brought to their table or even acknowledged Hilda's presence. Instead, Acier seemed utterly engrossed in the boy, as though he were a spectacle of immense importance. The array of expressions that danced across her face—fondness, sorrow, annoyance, sympathy, exasperation—confounded Hilda further.

Does the princess… like him? The thought hit Hilda like a bucket of cold water, and panic bubbled in her chest.

If Lady Amara or the Old Master find out, this won't end well.

Neither would tolerate Acier falling for a street rat—there was no other word for the boy, given his filthy, threadbare clothing. Nicklaus would undoubtedly kill the boy, whether or not the boy in question was even aware of Acier's supposed infatuation. Worse, he'd lock her away in the estate again, stripping her of the minuscule freedom that had miraculously fallen into her life.

And her mother… Hilda shuddered. To Lady Amara, even noble heirs weren't worthy of Acier. A nobody like that boy? The idea would be unthinkable.

If the Old Master ever interrogated Hilda about her princess's excursions, she doubted she could keep the secret unless she suicided. And that action in itself would be a confession of sorts that her princess was doing something she shouldn't. Her princess would lose everything again—her freedom, her will, her spirit. She would return to that lifeless doll Hilda had once known, pulled along by her mother and grandfather's strings.

Hilda's fists clenched. No. Not again.

She reached across the table, placing her slender fingers lightly on Acier's arm. "My Lady," she murmured softly, her voice steady yet imploring.

Acier blinked, finally pulling her gaze from the boy to fix Hilda with a cold, unamused stare.

Hilda swallowed her trepidation, glanced around to ensure no one inside the café was watching, and leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Princess… your status and his… they're too different. For both your sake and his, you shouldn't act on whatever it is you're feeling. Please, keep your distance."

Acier blinked, her expression morphing into one of incredulous disbelief. "You think... I fancy—" She gestured vaguely toward the boy, her wide eyes snapping back to Hilda. "—him?"

Hilda froze. Now I'm not so sure… She cringed inwardly but forced herself to nod. "Don't you…?"

Acier recoiled slightly, her nose wrinkling as if Hilda had just suggested something obscene. "No," she said stiffly. "God, no." She shook her head vehemently, casting a brief sidelong glance at the boy below—at Sebastian.

Sebastian Theodoros. That was his name. She had received it in Alfred's report last night, and now it stuck in her mind like a melody.

Well the first part of his name anyway, the second part… Acier had to try to hide her disgust recalling the things she read his father did to him or was at least suspected of doing, in Alfred's report.

He's just Sebastain… nothing else. Acier decided that would be his name, atleast to her. 

Her gaze returned to Sebastain, her posture settling back into its previous contemplative pose. Her lips pressed into a thin line. How could I fall for someone I just met? And even if I did… who could fall for someone so… empty?

Hilda watched her princess slip back into her private world, the boy once again consuming her attention. She tried again. "My Lady… then may I ask, what exactly are we—no, what exactly are you doing?"

"Hilda," Acier interrupted sharply, her voice chilly. She didn't even bother to turn this time.

"Y-yes, My Lady?" Hilda stammered.

"Sit quietly and eat. You're distracting me."

Hilda stiffened, bowing her head. "Yes, My Lady," she whispered.

Satisfied, Acier gave a faint nod, her eyes never leaving Sebastian.

Watching him prompted Acier to review what Alfred had included in last night's report.

Sebastian. A name that meant venerable and revered. His parents had chosen it with a purpose—to mold him into someone who could climb the social ladder and drag them up with him. Their ambition wasn't modest either; they aimed to become official Silva nobility, high-ranking ones at that.

That name was meant to carry their dreams. They wanted him to be someone of renown, someone so perfect, so blindingly immaculate, that he could sweep their insecurities and failures under the rug. By extension, his success would reflect back on them, earning them the admiration of royalty and high nobility.

Acier's tongue itched to click in derision. She had seen this before—parents burdening their children with unrealistic expectations. Just another pair of venomous snakes among the common waste of nobility and royalty, she thought bitterly. And when their children couldn't meet those expectations? They were discarded or broken.

Her mind flashed back to yesterday. She had struck Sebastian in the jaw, gravely wounding him, only to watch as he healed himself effortlessly, almost robotically. At first, she thought his stiffness was because he was like her—an emotionless void, someone hollowed out by life's demands. But Alfred's report revealed the truth.

That stiffness wasn't emotional. It was practiced, natural, ingrained. The way Sebastian had yanked his book from her hadn't been an act of anger but an instinct, a conditioned response to take what was his and make himself scarce. He hadn't lashed out after being struck because he didn't care—he was used to it. He's used to being hit. Used to being hurt.

And that… that was where her sorrow for him began.

No one should have to live like that. Acier knew she was fortunate in many ways. Her mother and grandfather's suffocation had been unbearable, but it had never been physical. If they had added beatings to their control, she doubted she would still be standing.

She was no fool; she had never deluded herself into believing her suffering was the greatest in the world. There were countless people who would kill to live her life—a warm bed, cooked meals, the promise of another tomorrow. Compared to the vast majority of the kingdom, she literally lived like a princess.

But she had also never truly experienced someone who had it worse than her, not firsthand. Her sheltered life had kept her from the raw reality of others' struggles. Through Alfred's reports, she had begun to see what went on behind closed doors, the truths that couldn't be ignored.

And what she saw made her stomach churn.

Sebastian's parents were despicable. Lavish, riddled with debt, obsessed with appearances. They had lived far beyond their means, desperate to be seen as part of the upper class they idolized. They tried to wring their son for all his worth, and physically mold him into perfection. When it became clear that was useless as Sebastian couldn't fulfill their ambitions, they spiraled into despair and ended their own lives.

To Acier, their deaths were a blessing. Good riddance. They couldn't hurt him anymore. He was free now.

So why…?

Her gaze returned to him, sitting at his pathetic little medical stand with those dead, empty eyes.

Why do you look like that? she questioned silently. You should be happy. You're free. Is it because they were still your parents, and despite everything, you loved them?

Her thoughts churned. Or is it something else? Have you lost your purpose without them?

She tried to piece together the puzzle, forcing herself to understand. According to Alfred's report, Sebastian's parents had been people driven by pride and vanity, their wealth an illusion propped up by endless loans and debts. When their reality crumbled, that Sebastian couldn't live up to their desires, and make that appearance an eternal truth, so did they.

Pathetic. Acier clicked her tongue, disdain seeping into her expression.

Yet, as her gaze lingered on Sebastian, her features softened, her emotions twisting into something more complex—a strange blend of pride and fondness.

She studied him again, as if he were a masterpiece both flawed and magnificent.

Over a year had passed since the day Sebastian's parents had taken their own lives, and shortly after, it seemed as if he had lost everything.

The family house, along with most of their belongings, had been seized by the bank, with assistance from House Legolant. All he had left was the family land. Naturally, the bank couldn't take that—not even if they had the power. That land was Silva land, even if it was on the outskirts of the estate. It had been lent to Sebastian's family by the main house, her house, just as it was for all the branch families.

In truth, the land still belonged to her family. And the bank, no matter how bold, would never dare lay a finger on Silva property, even if they had cause.

But with nothing beyond that patch of land to his name, empty land, Sebastian had lived like a practical street rat. According to Alfred's reports, he had made frequent trips to the common realm, navigating black markets and alleyways, scrounging for coin however he could. He'd taken on odd jobs, spent only on the barest necessities—clothing, evidently, not included—and saved every bit he could.

And, as of yesterday, it seemed his efforts had paid off. He had finally saved enough to pursue what appeared to be his dream, or perhaps goal would be the better term, of becoming a doctor and had even opened his own clinic.

Acier felt a tangle of emotions about that.

She was proud. To achieve all of that on his own, without any help, was admirable. Impressive, even. But she was also worried. Without a proper license, his clinic could be shut down at any moment by the kingdom if he drew too much attention or made a mistake.

And, of course, there was exasperation.

Why take the hard way? she wondered, tapping her cheek in rhythmic contemplation. With his healing skills, he could have walked into the main estate and been groomed as a healing ward or even a high-ranking servant.

Meals, clothing, lodging, amenities, perks—it would all be provided, along with a decent salary.

So why go to such lengths to do everything himself?

Her gaze sharpened as possibilities began to form.

Is it pride? A desire to be independent? Or... Her eyes narrowed. Does he blame the main family for what happened to his own?

She whispered the question softly to herself.

"Does he refuse to serve us?"

Tension between the main house and the branches wasn't a new issue. It had been simmering for nearly a decade. The main family had been placing increasing pressure on the branches, demanding higher performance. But why? No one would speak of it, leaving Acier to piece together fragments of speculation.

Perhaps it was enough to make him resent us, she thought. Enough to refuse to kneel, even if he's barely holding on.

Her gaze flicked back to Sebastian. If that's the case… perhaps I can't blame him.

Across the table, Hilda kept her head ducked low, pretending not to have heard anything. She nibbled quietly on a pastry, her movements delicate, as if trying not to disturb the fragile tension in the air.

You think I fancy him?

The question Acier had posed to her maid replayed itself in her mind as the minutes ticked by. Sebastian still hadn't received a single visitor to his stall.

No, I don't fancy him at all, she thought firmly. Her fixation on him wasn't something as simple as infatuation. It was more complicated than that.

Those dead, lifeless eyes—she had seen them reflected in herself too many times. That was what drew her to him, what made her want to uncover the truth buried beneath his depression.

The fact that he was her age only deepened her intrigue. She felt as though she had stumbled upon a like-minded soul. And maybe, just maybe, that could lead to something she had always longed for: a true friend.

Not the kind of "friend" who came over for orchestrated playdates, thinly veiled attempts by nobles to curry favor with her family. Not the kind of "friend" whose parents hoped their son might one day win her heart.

No, Sebastian seemed different. His lifeless, emotionless demeanor convinced her that he wouldn't care about her status, her body, or her heart. The fact that he hadn't tried to cozy up to the main line only solidified that belief.

If she could befriend him, it would be something pure. No politics, no ulterior motives. Just two people who could talk to each other and confide in each other without pretense.

Just like Hilda once was…

But even Hilda, as her maid, had always been a bit reserved. Their difference in status had created an invisible barrier.

But this guy… Acier's thoughts raced. If he has no love or respect for House Silva, maybe he could treat me like a normal girl. Not a princess. Not Acier Silva. Just Acier.

Her heart pounded in nervous excitement at the thought, a mix of anticipation and apprehension swirling within her. It was why she hadn't spoken to him yet, even though her time in Kikka was running out.

She didn't want to ruin this fragile possibility of friendship with a bad first impression. Or an even worse one, if he remembers me socking him in the jaw yesterday…

Acier cringed at the memory, trying to convince herself that he hadn't registered it—or that, somehow, it wouldn't matter.

But her interest in Sebastian wasn't just personal. There was another reason she felt compelled to watch him so closely, to invest her time in him.

It was her duty.

As long as Sebastian lived on Silva land, even without bearing the Silva name or wearing Silva colors, he was still under Silva rule. Under Silva management. Under Silva protection.

And as the heiress to House Silva, as its future matriarch, it was her responsibility to look after all her prospective subjects.

If Sebastian was hurting, and her family had played even the smallest part in that pain, she felt obligated to help mend his heart and provide him with support.

That sense of duty wasn't limited to him. It extended to every bastard and disowned child of House Silva, to every branch family member, even to the servants, maids, and butlers who carried no trace of Silva blood.

Acier straightened in her seat, resolve hardening in her chest.

I will help him, she vowed silently. And I will prove I need no man to inherit this house. I will care for its people, starting with Sebastian.

It was that inward vow that brought Acier to an awkward standstill. She watched time tick away, her gaze locked on Sebastian's stall, where he sat motionlessly. Still, no patients approached him. The sight made her cringe.

The common realm lacked doctors, yes, but it wasn't without apothecaries and others with medical expertise. The people weren't desperate enough to entrust their lives to a child, not when their meager wealth was at stake.

Who would gamble their health—perhaps their very life—on the abilities of a boy rather than seek out a renowned doctor? Even if Sebastian's rates were lower, which Acier assumed they were, commoners would likely grit their teeth and scrape together the money for a noble doctor's guaranteed care rather than risk an unproven alternative.

A child without even a grimoire. To them, even if he knew healing magic, how effective could it possibly be?

Acier had seen it firsthand—she knew what he could do. But the passersby didn't. They only spared him brief, disdainful glances before sneering or chuckling under their breath and continuing on their way.

To them, life was too valuable to gamble on the hands of a boy with no credentials.

Acier's stomach churned as she realized that at this rate, he wouldn't even be able to put food on his plate. She mulled over the problem, trying to think of a solution.

He clearly had no intention of joining House Silva as a healer—that much was obvious. That left her with another possibility: she could visit his stall as a patient.

But even that posed its own risks.

If Sebastian recognized her, he might grow suspicious of her intentions. Worse, if he harbored any negative feelings or prejudice toward her family, he might outright refuse her. That would ruin her chances of befriending him—or of helping him in any way.

Acier's eyes flicked sidelong to Hilda, seated across from her. A faint glimmer sparked in her lavender pupils.

"Hilda?"

"Y-yes, My Lady?" Hilda jerked her head up, startled out of her silent waiting. She had been sitting awkwardly, hands folded in her lap, after finishing her meal. Now, she looked visibly relieved to be addressed.

Acier twirled a silver lock between her fingers, her tone casual. "Are you sick or feeling under the weather?"

Hilda blinked in confusion. "No, My Lady, not at all. I'm perfectly healthy and ready to serve you!"

"Hmmmm…"

The sound made Hilda's brows twitch in frustration as she held back the urge to ask, What does 'Hmmmm' mean?!

But Acier paid no mind to her maid's visible confusion. Her focus had already shifted back to Sebastian.

She tapped her cheek in contemplation.

Should I… break her fingers?

The thought was so absurdly matter-of-fact that it didn't even faze her at first.

If I break her fingers, she'll have to seek Sebastian's services to heal them. Then she could make a big spectacle about his abilities to the passing crowd. Surely, others would take notice and start seeking his help…

Hilda didn't know why a sudden chill ran up her spine, but her body shuddered involuntarily.

Fortunately for her, fate seemed to intervene.

Just as Acier was about to fully commit to her inner plan, Sebastian made his first movement since she'd arrived. Her brow rose as she watched him lean down, rummaging through some unseen belongings behind his stall.

After a moment, he straightened back up, something wooden in his lap.

Acier tilted her head, studying the object as he set it on the stall's ledge and turned it around.

A triangular wooden block.

A moment passed as she noticed there were words on it, and that meant it was a sign.

She narrowed her eyes, squinting to make out the words etched into its surface. After a moment, the meaning clicked.

"Free Service."

Acier froze.

Hilda, noticing her sudden stillness, turned her gaze toward the boy as well. For a moment, both of them sat there, unmoving, their reactions almost comically synchronized.

Acier then proceeded to alternate between parting her mouth and closing it, as whenever she wished to speak no words came out, as she was struck speechless.

All she could do was blink, and scratch her head, trying to figure out what was going on in Sebastian's brain.

What in God's name are you thinking? How are you going to provide for yourself if you don't even charge a fee- Acier cut her own thoughts up, as for the first time today she noticed someone, or rather some people, approach Sebastian's stall.

After placing the sign on his stall's ledge, Sebastian didn't have to wait long before a passerby froze mid-step.

She was a relatively young woman, likely in her late twenties, with average looks, black hair tied in a short bun, and hazelnut eyes. She clutched a brown bag to her chest, the scent of fresh bread wafting from it, causing Sebastian's stomach to rumble faintly with hunger.

His face betrayed no sign of his starvation as he observed her. At her feet were two children, likely her own given the resemblance. The older one, appearing around six, stood beside his younger brother, who looked to be about five. Both gazed up at their mother in confusion.

The woman's eyes lingered on the older boy, whose complexion was noticeably pale. She smiled softly, her concern hidden behind a tender expression. "Nova, Nairaid, this way."

The children exchanged puzzled glances but obediently followed as she led them across the street toward Sebastian's stall.

Stopping in front of it, the woman gestured for her boys to stay quiet and behave. Perhaps through practice or education, they nodded dutifully, placing index fingers to their lips in a show of silence.

Despite being the elder, Nairaid seemed slower to respond. The woman rewarded Nova with a beam of approval and ran her fingers softly through Nairaid's hair, causing him to close his eyes in contentment.

Finally, she turned her gaze to Sebastian. Though his vacant, dull ocean-blue eyes unsettled her, she forced herself to remain composed. He looked more like a lifeless puppet than a human being, yet she spoke stiffly.

"Is this true… is it actually free?"

Sebastian nodded silently.

Her shoulders didn't relax. Instead, she pointed hesitantly at a glass jar sitting at the edge of his stall. It resembled the jars used at other stands to collect money, and suspicion crept into her voice as she asked, "T-then, what is that?"

Noticing his icy stare, she quickly added, "I-if you don't mind me asking."

Sebastian's reply was curt. "Tip jar."

The woman blinked, caught off guard by his lack of tact. An awkward pause hung between them before she gritted her teeth and pressed further.

"Like… i-if we're satisfied with your service, we can consider giving you some money… it's not mandatory, right?"

Her voice was cautious, her words calculated. Desperation pushed her to seek help for her son, but experience had taught her that "free" often came with hidden strings.

Free things cost the most.

She scrutinized Sebastian again, taking in his worn clothes and lifeless demeanor. Everything about him made her instincts scream to walk away, yet she stayed.

When Sebastian gave another silent nod, she let out a sigh of relief.

Without wasting another moment, she gently tugged Nairaid forward and knelt beside him, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders.

"My Nairaid has been a bit out of it these past few days," she began softly, masking her worry. "His skin's been getting paler, he's been sweating, heating up… and he hasn't been paying attention to what's going on around him—"

"The flu."

The woman jerked her head up, startled. Sebastian's detached gaze was fixed on her son, as though dissecting him with invisible precision.

"Everything you just said," Sebastian repeated, "are common symptoms of the flu."

She froze, then shook her head vehemently. "That's not possible. It's August—"

"Who said you can't get the flu in August?" Sebastian cut her off, his tone as indifferent as before. "There's such a thing as the summer flu."

"No… no… no… that can't be."

Her voice trembled as panic seized her. Cold sweat formed on her brow, her hands tightening on Nairaid's shoulders. Fear clawed at her chest.

In these times, even something as seemingly simple as the flu could be a death sentence without proper medical care—care that most commoners, herself included, couldn't afford.

Her husband, a caravan worker delivering goods across the kingdom, had left her some emergency money before departing. But if she spent it all on a doctor, her children would starve. There wouldn't be enough left to buy food.

"C-can you do anything about this?" the woman asked Sebastian, desperation thick in her voice.

"Yes," he replied, his tone as emotionless as ever. Without a hint of sympathy, he continued, "The boy's illness is only in the preliminary phase. If it had progressed further, he wouldn't even be able to move around. Treating it before it worsens is simple."

"O-oh, thank goodness," she breathed, relief washing over her as she steadied Nairaid by his shoulders.

"What do we need to do, Dr.… um, I haven't caught your name yet—"

"I'm not a doctor."

Sebastian cut her off with an icy bluntness, then reached out over the stall's ledge, placing his hand unceremoniously on Nairaid's forehead.

"My name is Sebastian," he declared.

Before the woman could respond, a dazzling aqua-blue light erupted from his palm, momentarily blinding her. She blinked in astonishment.

He can use healing magic without a grimoire?!

Her thoughts raced as she gawked, the brilliance of pure mana drawing the attention of passersby, many of whom froze in place to stare.

Nairaid closed his eyes in bliss as a cool, soothing sensation swept over him. Streams of magic flowed into his body, seeping through his skin and coursing through his bloodstream. The mana targeted and eradicated the microscopic parasites causing his illness, flooding his organs with restorative energy.

After five minutes, Sebastian withdrew his hand, his magic ceasing abruptly. His gaze, indifferent as ever, fixed on the woman.

"Take him home and let him rest in bed," he instructed. "Feed him fresh fruits, vegetables, or lean meats if you have any. Make sure he drinks plenty of water, juice, or soup if he starts sweating again. And ensure that not only he but everyone in your household washes thoroughly with soap. Simple hygiene goes a long way to prevent disease."

His voice came out hoarse and stilted, as if unaccustomed to speaking at length. Without another word, he resumed his seat, falling back into his stiff, robotic posture as though nothing had happened.

The woman blinked in stunned silence, her gaze shifting from Sebastian to her son. Her eyes widened as she noticed Nairaid's complexion—once pale and sickly—now rosy and full of life.

The boy opened his eyes, beaming. A soft giggle escaped him as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "Mama… I feel better now."

Her heart softened at his words. Looking back up at Sebastian, she felt a surge of gratitude. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a small bun of bread.

"Here," she said gently, drawing his attention. For the first time, his gaze didn't intimidate her. She placed the bun into his hand with care. "I know it's not money, or much of anything, but I hope this can help you in some way."

Sebastian glanced at the bread in his hand as his stomach let out a faint growl. Looks like I get to have lunch today, he thought inwardly. His expression remained as blank as ever, but he gave her a simple nod.

The woman smiled warmly before taking her children home, Nairaid happily skipping at her side.

From her vantage point on the café balcony, Acier watched the scene unfold. A wave of relief washed over her, followed by a soft smile as she noticed passersby casting hesitant glances at Sebastian's stall.

So that's what he's aiming for, she thought, feeling as though she understood his plan.

If no one was willing to risk their money on a no-name boy's services, Sebastian had created an offer they couldn't refuse: free treatment. Once he successfully healed several people, word would spread, and he'd build a reputation. Then he could start charging a fee—not the exorbitant sums demanded by licensed doctors in the noble and common realms, but something affordable for the average commoner or peasant.

Even if he didn't charge outright, people's discomfort with accepting charity would lead them to tip him or offer goods and services in return, ensuring his efforts weren't thankless.

And because he was a Silva, he didn't have to pay taxes. House Silva handled tribute to the kingdom on behalf of its estate members, meaning Sebastian could keep all his earnings.

He's making decent business! Acier grinned in satisfaction. If he avoided legal trouble and obtained official licensing in a few years, he could open a larger clinic—or even become a royal doctor. He could lead a good life.

In her mind's eye, she envisioned Sebastian's future unfolding. Smirking smugly, Acier felt a rare sense of hope and pride for him.

Acier watched as people in need began crowding around Sebastian's stall. Time flowed by, and she observed him tend to various ailments and troubles. He treated minor injuries like small bruises, bumps, and cuts, helped drunken passersby clean themselves and sober up, and even lent a hand to a few street beggars—giving them a fighting chance to survive another day. All of it was done with that same emotionless gaze.

Some people compensated him; others did not. Yet, despite this uneven exchange, Sebastian appeared to have accumulated a modest haul by the end of it all: three copper coins, a single silver piece, a banana, a pop tart, a wooden water bottle, a mason jar, a pocket knife, and a lighter.

Though he maintained his dull and lifeless demeanor, Acier felt something shift in him. The oppressive, depressing aura that seemed to radiate from him and hang over the street now retracted into himself, diminished greatly.

To her, he looked satisfied—maybe even pleased.

Acier suddenly noticed the time. Lunch was nearing, and she would soon need to return to the castle. Rising slowly from her seat, she brushed off her dress.

Noticing her movement, Hilda, ever vigilant, stood abruptly and curtsied politely. "We're leaving, My Lady? Should I have the café pack the remaining treats for us to take back—"

"Hilda," Acier interrupted, her tone sharp.

"Yes, My Lady?" Hilda responded deferentially, taking no offense at the interruption.

Acier turned to face her maid, her expression serious. The shift in atmosphere caused Hilda to grow slightly nervous.

"How do I look?" Acier asked, her voice unusually grave.

Hilda blinked, a flicker of confusion crossing her face. She quickly suppressed it, replacing it with a practiced smile. "Apologies, My Lady, could you clarify what you mean?"

Acier crossed her arms and frowned. "Clarify? It's a simple question: how do I look?"

Hilda blinked again, her confusion growing.

Acier's brows twitched in irritation. She shook her hands in frustration. "Come on, Hilda, answer me! Do I look clean and tidy?"

"Of course, My Lady," Hilda replied with calm reassurance. "You look pristine and enchantingly beautiful, as always—"

"No! That's not good!" Acier hissed, cutting her off. Hilda instinctively jerked back as Acier closed the gap, grabbing her maid's shoulders.

"Quick, Hilda—de-beautify me!" Acier demanded, her eyes wild. "But not too much! I still need to look clean and regal enough to make a good impression!"

Hilda parted her lips, gaping at her princess in bewilderment. "My Lady, what on Earth are you talking about?"

Acier's grip tightened on Hilda's shoulders, making the maid wince slightly. "Do I have to spell it out for you? I'm about to go greet that boy down there," Acier hissed. "I want it to be clear that I'm not approaching him in a professional or romantic manner—just casually! Got it?"

Hilda blinked, her gaze shifting downward toward Sebastian's stall. She stared at the unassuming boy, then turned back to Acier, her jaw slack.

"Huh?" was all she managed to say.

Acier's forehead vein visibly bulged, and she raised a hand as if she were considering slapping some sense into her maid. Before she could act, however, her attention was drawn to movement below.

Two small figures had approached Sebastian's stall.

Sebastian set aside his meager earnings for the day as he noticed two small figures approach his stall. The children hesitated, their steps faltering, before coming closer. They were about the same age as the boy he had helped earlier, but these two were clearly in far worse condition. Their tattered, straw-like rags barely qualified as clothing, marking them not merely as peasants, but as true street rats.

Unlike Sebastian, who at least had a small plot of land and minor but essential benefits that ensured his survival, these boys had nothing.

The slightly larger and healthier-looking boy dragged the smaller one forward. The smaller boy limped on his right leg, his pale face twisted in discomfort.

Sebastian's sharp eyes narrowed subtly as he noticed the limp. He quickly schooled his expression, trying to appear neutral, unassuming—anything but intimidating. However, his attempt to suppress emotion only succeeded in making him look more lifeless, which in turn seemed to unnerve the boys even further.

The smaller boy tugged against his companion's grip, his eyes darting toward escape. But the bigger one gritted his teeth and stubbornly pulled him forward until they stood directly in front of Sebastian's stall.

Passersby glanced at the boys with thinly veiled disgust. Some pinched their noses, quickening their pace to avoid the flies and fleas that seemed to hover around the pair.

The bigger boy, Jonas, felt a sinking weight in his chest. He was sure Sebastian would tell them to leave, just as countless others had before. Yet, when Jonas met Sebastian's gaze, he found no rejection there—only a blank, inscrutable stare.

Jonas didn't know what to feel. Relief that they weren't immediately shooed away? Or fear, because he couldn't read the intentions behind those lifeless eyes?

The smaller boy, Jack, hissed in a low voice, "Let's go, Jonas. I'll be fine."

Jonas hesitated, but his gaze dropped to his brother's leg. The thought of leaving gnawed at him, and he shook his head firmly.

"Shut up and stay put, Jack," he thought, recalling their mother's dying words to look after his little brother.

Jack fell silent, though his fear remained palpable. Jonas squared his shoulders and looked up at Sebastian, forcing himself to meet the older boy's eyes head-on. He gritted his teeth, bit his lip, and knelt down, pulling up Jack's torn, baggy shorts.

On Jack's knee was a ghastly mark—a deep purple bruise encircled by angry red teeth marks. Jonas pointed to the wound, his voice trembling. "Sir, m-my brother got bit by a snake. C-can you help him?"

Sebastian remained silent, his empty gaze fixed on the injury.

Jonas swallowed hard, his lips trembling. He lowered his head, despair sinking in. Of course, no one's going to help street rats like us...

Desperate, Jonas forced a brittle smile. "Then… could I borrow your knife? I-I'll cut it open and suck the venom out. Don't worry, I'll do it right here so you'll know I'm not trying to steal it—"

"Are you an idiot?"

Sebastian's icy voice cut through Jonas's plea like a blade. Jonas stiffened, his breath hitching, as Sebastian abruptly stood and walked around the stall. Crouching in front of the boys, he loomed closer.

Jonas instinctively shifted to shield Jack, his voice cracking with panic. "W-what are you trying to do?"

Nearby passersby frowned at the scene but kept their distance, unwilling to intervene.

Sebastian's sharp gaze locked onto Jonas. "Who told you to cut open a snake bite and suck out the venom?"

Jonas blinked, taken aback by the unexpected question. He stammered, "M-Mister Scraggy said… h-he told me that's how I can save Jack…"

"A beggar?" Sebastian pressed.

Jonas gulped and nodded.

Sebastian's sneer twisted his otherwise emotionless face, and his tone dripped with disdain. "You took medical advice from a beggar?"

Jonas flushed with embarrassment, the heat rising to his cheeks. Behind him, Jack whimpered nervously.

Sebastian continued coldly, his voice laced with scorn. "Sucking out venom, or cutting open a snake bite to let it bleed out, is a myth. Doing so only makes things worse. It can damage blood vessels and nerves, and might even make the venom spread faster."

He jabbed a finger into Jonas's stomach, making the boy flinch. "If you'd followed that fool's advice, you might've killed your brother—or, at the very least, paralyzed him."

Jonas turned as pale as the moon, his body trembling. Behind him, Jack let out a shaky whimper, clutching his brother's sleeve. Jonas felt self-loathing wash over him like a wave.

Around them, the small crowd of spectators ducked their heads, murmuring in confusion.

Wait… isn't that how you treat a snake bite?

Jonas clenched his fists, panic evident in his tear-filled eyes as he pleaded with Sebastian. "Then how c-can I get the poison out? P-please tell me! How can I save my brother?"

"No need," Sebastian interrupted flatly.

Jonas froze, his face paling before it flushed red with fury. "You're saying I'm just supposed to let my brother die?!"

Sebastian responded with a swift flick to Jonas's forehead. "Ow!" Jonas yelped, clutching his head as his eyes watered. He looked up to see Sebastian calmly flicking his fingers, his emotionless gaze practically asking, Do you want another one?

Jonas quickly shook his head. He didn't.

Sebastian snorted and pointed at Jack's knee. "See these teeth marks?"

Jonas blinked and turned his attention to the wound, then nodded hesitantly.

Sebastian nodded in return. "Rows of teeth like this mean it was a non-venomous snake. That's why I said there's no need—there's nothing to take out."

Jonas and Jack, along with most of the onlookers, stared in surprise as Sebastian continued.

"If it had been venomous, there would've been two distinct puncture marks, like fang bites." He paused before adding with a touch of disdain, "Honestly, if you weren't such an idiot, you should've realized this already."

Jonas bristled, indignation coloring his tone. "W-what do you mean?!"

Sebastian's cold, deadpan stare made Jonas gulp. With an exasperated sigh, Sebastian explained. "Based on the dried blood, this bite happened hours ago, correct?"

Jack nodded timidly. "I-I woke up like this. The snake must've bitten me overnight, b-but I didn't notice because it was cold."

Sebastian nodded again and continued. "If it had been venomous and left untreated for this long, you'd already be dead. The pain and numbness you're feeling? It's just like a bruise that's been ignored. This is an easy fix."

Jack and Jonas froze, their mouths agape, as Sebastian reached out toward Jack's knee. A faint glow of water mana enveloped his hand as he placed it over the wound.

Jack hummed in relief, his stiff leg loosening as the feeling returned. After a moment, Sebastian pulled back his hand, revealing smooth, unblemished skin where the ghastly wound had been.

Jack shook his leg experimentally, his face lighting up with joy as it responded naturally.

Jonas turned to Sebastian, his face still a mixture of confusion and awe. "M-mister, what was that purple spot?"

Sebastian stood and shrugged nonchalantly. "Probably saliva or bile from the snake that bit him. I wouldn't know unless you brought me the snake—but it doesn't matter anymore."

Jonas hesitated, then nodded, satisfied with the answer.

Sebastian turned to Jack and spoke matter-of-factly. "There are a few things you need to keep in mind."

Jack straightened, nodding earnestly. "I-I'm listening, Mister."

Sebastian folded his arms behind his back. "First, if you notice swelling on that leg or any signs of infection, come back here immediately. Just because the snake wasn't venomous doesn't mean it wasn't dangerous."

Jonas's eyes widened slightly. Does that mean we can return here if we need help?

Jack nodded meekly. "Y-yes, Mister."

Sebastian continued, "Second, for the rest of the week, don't raise your knee above your heart. Understand?"

Jack bobbed his head again. "Y-yes, Mister."

Sebastian nodded in approval, then waved a dismissive hand. "Good. Now get lost—you're stinking up my stand."

The boys hesitated before their faces softened into shy smiles. "Thank you, Mister!"

Sebastian froze for a moment. Then, for the first time that day, a faint glimmer of emotion flickered in his eyes. He offered the barest hint of a smile, so subtle it might have gone unnoticed by most.

"No problem," he murmured, his voice low. "I hate snakes, after all."

It wasn't entirely unnoticed.

Across the street, Acier stood on a café balcony, her hawk-like gaze fixed on Sebastian. She caught that fleeting smile, and her heart raced. That glimmer of color in his eyes sent a flutter through her chest.

She wanted to see that smile more, she wanted to be the target of that smile.

She beamed as she turned to her maid, Hilda, shaking her arm excitedly. "Did you hear that, Hilda? He said he hates snakes! We're destined to be friends, we're soulmates!"

Hilda blinked, her smile tight with panic. "Y-Young Miss, I-I don't think that means what you think it means!"

But her words fell on deaf ears. Acier was lost in her own world, grinning ear to ear as she walked to the edge of the balcony.

With startling grace, she climbed onto the railing and leapt, clearing the two-story drop and the street below in a single bound. She landed lightly on her toes in front of Sebastian's stall, her movements as fluid as a dancer's, barely making a sound.

The crowd stared in stunned silence as Sebastian jerked his head toward her, visibly startled. He quickly composed himself, his eyes narrowing as he took in her presence.

Acier ignored the gawking onlookers, her attention fixed solely on Sebastian. She noted the recognition in his narrowed eyes and smirked to herself.

So, you do know who I am…

Acier chuckled inwardly, already planning her next move.

Just as Acier prepared to speak, Sebastian's voice echoed in her mind with crisp clarity.

"Princess Acier, is there something you need?"

She paused, blinking in surprise. Wait, in my mind? How did he—

Her thoughts trailed off as she noticed a faint pulse of mana. Lowering her gaze, she spotted a small, unimpressive copper ring on Sebastian's thumb, adorned with a speck-sized, clear magic gem.

Her eyes widened as the gem glowed crimson, and Sebastian's voice repeated in her mind.

"Princess Acier, is there something you need?"

Outwardly, Sebastian's face remained impassive, his lips unmoving. Yet, his voice resonated clearly in her thoughts. At that moment, Acier pieced together how he had silently coordinated with his vendors yesterday.

He's using a magic item to project his voice into their minds, she realized. The subtle reactions of his vendors suggested it was a two-way connection.

What's even the point of that? Acier wondered, her thoughts drifting. Is he so lazy or introverted that he avoids speaking out loud?

She shook her head. No, that makes no sense. He's been talking to patients all morning.

Brushing off the curiosity, Acier focused on her thoughts, testing the mental connection. "I wish to speak to you."

The gem glowed again, and Sebastian's monotone voice returned in her mind. "How may I be of service to you, Princess Acier?"

A thrill coursed through her. If there's ever something important or private to discuss, we can use this tool without fear of eavesdroppers. Acier bit back her excitement and mentally replied, "Acier is just fine, Sebastian. No need for the 'Princess.'"

Sebastian's eyes narrowed slightly as his voice returned, tinged with sarcasm. "I dare not show you the slightest disrespect, Princess Acier."

The deliberate emphasis on her title made her grimace. Give him time, she thought, forcing a smile. He'll come around.

Determined to continue, she beamed mentally, "Well, first off, I'd like to say hello!"

Sebastian didn't respond with words, but the unimpressed raise of his brow spoke volumes. His expression screamed disbelief, as if to say, A princess doesn't go out of her way to greet a nobody like me.

Ordinarily, he would've been right. But in Acier's case, she truly was trying to make his acquaintance—no ulterior motives, save perhaps her desire to befriend him.

Hiding her nerves, Acier rallied herself. Don't worry, you expected this kind of distrust. You'll just have to melt that cold heart of his.

Shifting her approach, she mentally continued, "As the heiress of House Silva, I've made it my duty to get to know our branch family members, including you. If you have concerns or requests, feel free to let me know. I'll do my best to accommodate—"

"No need."

The mental interruption was jarring. Acier stiffened as Sebastian's dull eyes bore into her, their emptiness taking on an almost predatory sharpness.

"I have no intention of integrating with House Silva," he began, his voice chillingly cold. "This stall is proof of my desire for independence from your house. As soon as my finances allow, I'll leave the Silva estate entirely."

His words cut deeper than she expected.

"So you need not concern yourself with me," he concluded icily. "Look elsewhere."

Switching to his actual voice, Sebastian addressed her aloud. "Young Lady, if you're only here to stare, I'll ask you to leave. I have patients waiting."

Acier stiffened, turning to find the crowd staring at her. From their perspective, she had quite literally dropped out of the sky and was now glaring at their "new doctor."

No one dared approach, though their expressions spoke volumes. Another noble here to look down on us, their skeptical frowns seemed to say.

The scene wasn't helped by her extravagant dress, which screamed wealth and privilege. Those who recognized her silver hair were even more wary, fearing she might abuse her authority at the slightest provocation.

Even Jonas and Jack had fled as soon as Acier arrived, unwilling to risk an encounter with someone so high above their station.

Acier's stomach sank, realizing the misunderstanding. She caught sight of Hilda weaving through the crowd, her maid's expression tight with concern.

Pulling Hilda closer, Acier shot the crowd an apologetic smile. To their surprise, it felt genuine.

For a moment, their expressions softened. The bitterness harbored by those wronged by the aristocracy eased slightly, though many still watched cautiously.

Turning back to Sebastian, Acier gave him a gentle smile, undeterred by their earlier exchange. "I'll see you tomorrow, Sebastian," she said lightly, adding to herself, my new friend.

With that, she grabbed Hilda's arm and darted through the marketplace, her mana-boosted steps carrying her up the hill to the noble district. Please, don't let Grandfather be upset—I'm only a minute or two late for lunch.

Sebastian watched her retreating figure, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. The lifelessness in his gaze flickered slightly, giving way to guarded thoughtfulness.

How does Princess Acier know me? he wondered. And what does she want from me?

Author's Notes:

[1] Starting the next chapter the pacing is going to pick up a bit.

[2] From chapter 43, based on Sebastian's diary, this is the last intact entry corresponding to today's date, August 3rd 1600, so that should give you an idea of the time period, for any of those wondering. 

[3] As always feel free to join the discord at: https://discord.gg/s3MME8X8ar


Kapitel 54: Their Story (4): The Acceptance

August 4th, 1600:

Sebastian sat stiffly at his stall, determined to ignore the presence beside him.

If I block her out, she doesn't exist. If she doesn't exist, she can't bother me. Eventually, she'll give up and leave me be.

He'd arrived early that morning, setting up shop (or clinic) by 7:00 a.m., only for Acier to join him unceremoniously at 8:30, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Since then, she'd relentlessly tried to strike up conversations, and Sebastian had assumed that giving her the cold shoulder would send her packing. Instead, she only seemed more determined, her bright smile never faltering as she peppered him with questions.

"Hey, Sebastian, what's your favorite food?"

"Why do you want to become a doctor?"

"Do you have any plans to get a license?"

"What motivates you in life? What gets you out of bed every morning?"

"Do you dislike my presence? Do you want me to leave?"

"Are you getting annoyed? If you'd just answer me, this conversation would be far more pleasant for both of us, you know that, right?"

"Hey, say something! Hey! Hey! Hey!"

He had thought his sharp words to her the previous day had made his attitude abundantly clear. He had no desire to get along with her or, by extension, House Silva.

So why can't she leave me to my work?

But it seemed she either didn't care or didn't understand. She just wouldn't stop. She was a chatterbox, her incessant talking fraying his nerves until his brow twitched involuntarily. His lifeless expression was becoming harder to maintain, and he was seconds away from snapping at her outright.

But he didn't dare.

Acier wasn't just a girl; she was a princess. Offending her—even unintentionally—could mean his death. Nicklaus Silva's adoration for his granddaughter was no secret, and Sebastian wouldn't be surprised if that beast had spies trailing her every move. By extension, those spies would be watching him, too.

So, reluctantly, he answered her.

What's my favorite food? "I have none."

Why do I want to become a doctor? "It makes decent money."

Do I plan on getting a license? "Of course I do."

What motivates me in life? "Money."Vengeance.

Do I want you to leave? "Of course not, Princess Acier. It is my dearest honor to be graced by your presence."

Am I annoyed by you? "Such a thought is unthinkable, Princess Acier. Rather, I apologize for any discourtesy I've shown."

His responses were flat, devoid of nuance, and unmistakably unwelcoming. He thought for sure she'd catch on and leave him alone. Instead, she seemed even more delighted, firing off a fresh barrage of questions.

The only saving grace in Acier's company was her discretion. She wore a cloak that obscured her figure, and they communicated mentally through his magic tool, the Mind Ring. As a result, she didn't scare away too many of his potential patients, allowing him to keep some semblance of business.

Her maid, however, was notably absent. He hadn't spotted the girl today, which only made Sebastian more wary. There's no way a princess would be allowed out of the castle alone. Someone's watching. He treated Acier with careful respect, unwilling to test the invisible limits of her guardians' patience.

No matter how much he despised Nicklaus Silva and his entire bloodline, Sebastian knew better than to let that hatred bleed into his interactions with her. It was not yet time for him to bare his fangs. He forced himself to maintain a lifeless yet courteous demeanor.

Acier didn't seem the least bit deterred by his dull responses or detached behavior.

When lunchtime arrived, she finally gave him a reprieve, flashing him a radiant smile as she prepared to leave. "See you tomorrow, Sebastian!"

Please, for the love of all that is holy, leave me alone. "I look forward to seeing you as well, Princess," he replied, nodding politely.

Acier beamed even brighter, repeating her insistence that he call her by her name and not her title. But Sebastian remained resolute.

Calling her by name would either be an insult to her rank or a signal that they were growing closer. Either one was a shortcut to the chopping block, and Sebastian wasn't about to jeopardize his plans for vengeance by indulging her whims.

August 5th, 1600:

Sebastian blinked. He'd arrived at his stall earlier than yesterday, a quarter before 7 a.m., hoping to tend to patients as soon as possible. What he didn't expect was to find Acier Silva already there, leaning against his wooden clinic stall and beaming at him as if she'd sensed his approach.

Why is she here?

The thought stiffened his steps as he walked toward his makeshift setup. Before he could say a word, Acier broke the silence, her grin wide as she mimicked a finger gun and clicked her tongue.

"Hey Boy, you come here often?"

Sebastian froze. His otherwise stoic expression wavered, threatening to crumble into genuine shock. Fortunately—or unfortunately—fate intervened.

Creak.

The stall beneath her shifted ominously. First, the ledge she was leaning on gave way, then the crooked beams supporting it snapped, and the entire structure collapsed with a resounding crash.

Bam.

Dust rose in a thick cloud as pieces of wood scattered across the ground. The noise turned heads among the nearby vendors and early shoppers, but only briefly—such mishaps weren't unusual in the marketplace. That didn't make Sebastian any less mortified.

Acier, having backed away just in time to avoid falling with the wreckage, blinked at the destruction. She turned to Sebastian with a sheepish smile, awkwardly rubbing the back of her head.

"I don't suppose you brought any nails or a hammer, did you?"

For the first time since they'd met, Acier received a show of emotion from Sebastian.

An undisguised look of annoyance at that. At that moment, Sebastian didn't care if any spies were watching. His displeasure needed no filter.

Acier stiffened slightly under his glare, which brought Sebastian a small measure of satisfaction.

Pinching the bridge of his nose and holding back the curses threatening to escape his mouth, Sebastian inhaled deeply and sighed.

"Princess Acier… to what do I owe the (dis)pleasure of having you here so early in the morning?"

Acier straightened up, still awkwardly rubbing her head. Her thoughts raced.

Father and Grandfather are busy preparing for my coming-of-age ceremony and making trips to the royal palace because His Majesty's health is failing. They won't be at breakfast for the foreseeable future…

That gave her the perfect excuse to leave earlier than usual. Breakfast was only about pleasing her grandfather anyway, and without him there, why bother? Her mother hadn't been thrilled about it, but Acier had managed to convince (threaten) her by promising not to return to the training she'd (supposedly) dropped—though she fully intended to continue it in secret.

The extra time, Acier had decided, could be better spent with her new friend, who was definitely her friend and definitely reciprocated those feelings.

Of course, none of that was worth explaining to Sebastian. Crossing her arms, she smiled confidently instead.

"You know what they say: the early bird gets the worm."

Sebastian blinked, his tone flat as he replied, "So, is this going to be a regular arrangement now?"

"At least for the rest of the month," Acier chirped, her smile bright. You may never see me again after that. She buried the thought before it could show.

Oh, joy. Sebastian swallowed his lament and forced a polite nod. "It's my honor."

Perhaps Acier picked up on his displeasure—or maybe she just felt guilty for wrecking his stand. Either way, she stayed mostly quiet after that, content to stand beside him until lunch came. Then, with another cheerful smile, she waved and returned to Castle Silva.

August 6th, 1600:

Sebastian blinked. He hadn't even left the Silva estate yet, and there she was again. Acier Silva stood casually leaning against the castle gate, waiting for him at the ungodly hour of 6:00 a.m.

She stifled a yawn, her tiredness evident, but as soon as she noticed him approach, her face lit up, and she straightened with renewed energy.

Sebastian was speechless. He'd woken earlier than usual, hoping to avoid her entirely, just so he could set up his clinic in peace. Yet somehow, she seemed to have predicted his every move as if reading his mind like an open book.

Resigned to defeat, Sebastian parted his lips, his tone weary. "Princess Acier, just what exactly are you after—"

"Hey Boy," Acier cut him off with her signature finger gun and tongue click. She grinned playfully, her tone teasing.

"Is that a grimoire in your pants, or are you just excited to see me?"

Sebastian froze. Like a statue. It took him a moment to process her words and another moment to register the nuance.

A cold sweat broke out across his back as his eyes darted around the vicinity. No one was nearby—no witnesses, no prying eyes. That fact offered him no relief.

His face twisted in a mix of fear and disgust. Are you trying to have me killed?!

Without a word, he bolted. Sprinting past Acier and down the noble district as fast as his legs could carry him, he refused to look back until he was far, far away from the Silva estate.

Sebastian wouldn't return to the Silva estate that day, nor the day after, he didn't dare to.

Acier watched his rapidly retreating figure, blinking in confusion. "Why does he look like he's seen a ghost?" she murmured, rubbing her head as she tried to make sense of his reaction.

"Amber said that would please any boyfriend (friend that is a boy), so why does he look like I just threatened his life…?"

Years later, as Acier escaped her sheltered lifestyle and gained a better understanding of certain suggestive phrases, she would blush as red as a tomato whenever this memory surfaced. But for now, she remained clueless.

"Wait for me!" she called, sprinting after him.

August 8th, 1600:

"Sebastian, are you angry with me?" Acier's voice was small, her usual cheer absent. She sat beside him at his stall, where he had rebuilt his makeshift clinic.

When she first arrived, she'd borrowed some wood to construct a seat for herself. Sebastian hadn't stopped her.

But that was the problem—he hadn't done anything.

Acier glanced at his stiff, emotionless face. He hadn't spoken to her, not even a single word, since that morning two days ago. If before he'd been civil, indifferent but willing to communicate, now he treated her like she didn't exist. Not a glance, not a word, not even a flicker of acknowledgment.

Desperate, Acier had tried everything. She poked his cheek, apologized repeatedly (despite not knowing what she was apologizing for), and even resorted to attempting lighthearted jokes. Nothing worked.

Two days ago, he'd thrown her a furious glare—a look that still haunted her. Since then, it was as if she'd been erased from his world.

Acier bit her lip, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. Dammit, Amber… What did you make me say? Why is he so angry with me?!

Her thoughts spiraled into panic as her heart sank deeper with every passing moment of silence. She struggled to understand. What had she done wrong? Why was he treating her this way?

She turned to him, her voice trembling, her eyes filled with desperation. "Can you at least tell me what I did wrong so I don't do it again?"

No response.

Her chest tightened painfully as she stared at him, willing him to say something, anything. But he remained still, like a lifeless doll.

Acier felt a new emotion creep in—fear. Not fear of Sebastian himself, but fear that she'd ruined something she hadn't even realized she valued so deeply.

No… no… no…

Her fists tightened as she tried to steady herself. The day dragged on, the silence heavier with every second, until finally, she had to leave.

She looked at him one last time, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just want to know what I did wrong so I can make it up to you."

But Sebastian didn't answer her that day.

August 9th, 1600:

Sebastian blinked. It was nearing 2:00—the time when Acier would typically part ways with him to return to Castle Silva for her lunch. But today was different. She hadn't even shown up.

He felt... strange. Though it had only been five days, he'd grown accustomed to her presence beside him. His repeat patients, too, seemed to notice her absence, occasionally asking where she was.

Sebastian offered no answers, brushing off their inquiries with silence. Still, he found himself distracted. He should be pleased—his silent treatment had evidently worked. It was clear Princess Acier had finally given up and decided to leave him alone.

So why did he feel so hollow? Even more than usual?

"Sebastian…"

The familiar voice broke through his thoughts, causing him to turn toward it instinctively.

What he saw froze him in place.

Acier stood before him, her eyes rimmed with red, her usually vibrant complexion pale. The signs were unmistakable—she'd been crying, had likely not slept or eaten well for days.

A strange, unwelcome churning filled his stomach.

Her eyes lit up, just briefly, when he turned to look at her. That faint glimmer of hope in her expression only made Sebastian want to sneer and turn away again.

What are you doing? Look away. Don't pity her. She's the enemy… one day, you'll kill her along with that beast to exact your revenge.

But his body wouldn't obey. Or maybe it wasn't his body—it was his heart, stubbornly defying his mind.

He grit his teeth imperceptibly, biting his lip as his resolve wavered. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he gave in to the weight of her fragile, defeated appearance.

He patted the seat next to him—the one she'd claimed as hers—and spoke in a flat, monotone voice.

"Forget it. You are forgiven."

Acier's breath hitched audibly, her eyes watering as her lips trembled into a shaky smile. Slowly, hesitantly, she sat down beside him, her usual confidence replaced by a meek vulnerability.

A moment of silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken emotions, before Sebastian spoke again.

"Never say silly things like that again. This is your only warning."

Acier didn't fully understand, but she nodded earnestly, grateful for even this measured acceptance.

Five minutes passed in quiet companionship before she finally rose to leave.

"Goodbye, Sebastian… see you tomorrow?" Her voice carried a cautious hope, the words no longer a statement but a question. She sought his permission, unsure if her presence would be tolerated—or even welcome—the next day.

Sebastian gave her a silent nod.

Relief washed over Acier, the heaviness in her chest lifting slightly as she turned to leave.

August 10th, 1600:

"Hey, Sebastian?"

Acier's voice echoed uncertainly through their mental bond, a courtesy of the Mind Ring linking them.

"What is it?" Sebastian replied, his tone flat as he focused on wrapping a cast around the arm of a tall, middle-aged man. The man had suffered a fracture, and Sebastian's limited healing magic wasn't advanced enough to mend the bones completely. The cast would need to hold the arm in place for at least a day or two.

Acier hesitated. Her words came out haltingly, laced with nervousness.

"A-are we f-friends?"

The silence that followed was brief but deafening, stretching into something more profound than words could fill. Finally, Sebastian's emotionless voice cut through the bond.

"No."

That single word hit Acier like a blow.

"Oh," she mumbled aloud, lowering her head to stare at her lap. She couldn't bring herself to look at him, fearing she'd fall apart into a pathetic mess if she did. And she never wanted him to see her like that.

Sebastian, for his part, had to summon all his willpower to ignore her near-imperceptible trembling.

The rest of the day passed in heavy silence.

August 11th, 1600:

"Aughh, please, let me go!"

An oafish, bald man squirmed in pain beneath Acier, his arm twisted painfully in the air. She had him pinned against the cobblestone ground, her mana-infused sandal digging mercilessly into the center of his back.

Acier had arrived later than usual today. Truthfully, she had debated not coming at all—yesterday's exchange still weighed heavily on her mind. But she refused to give up on their friendship so easily.

At 11:30 in the morning, she was greeted by a troubling scene: the pig of a man beneath her feet had been smashing up Sebastian's stall and trying to make off with his nearly half-full tip jar.

Naturally, she wasn't about to let that slide.

With a click of her tongue, she twisted her foot deeper into his back before delivering a sharp kick to the back of his head, knocking him unconscious.

Acier scooped up the tip jar, ignoring the gawking onlookers and stunned passersby, and marched straight up to Sebastian.

She frowned as she met his gaze.

"Why did you just stand there and take that? Why didn't you fight back?"

Sebastian paused, his lifeless eyes briefly flickering with something unreadable before he answered, his tone robotic.

"I'm outmatched. He has a grimoire. With no Magic Knights around, opposing him would be a death sentence. It's only logical to let him take what he wants and leave."

Acier held his gaze for a moment, her frown deepening, before sighing. She handed the jar back to him softly.

"Here."

Sebastian took it from her, opening his mouth to respond, but Acier cut him off.

Rubbing her head with exaggerated exasperation, she muttered, "I won't avoid you again… and I'll try to stay longer to protect you. And if you like, I can teach you a few simple self-defense moves—at least so the average thug can't push you around."

Sebastian froze, his lifeless eyes softening ever so slightly. For the briefest moment, his lips curved into a faint, genuine smile.

"Thank you."

Acier's pupils dilated before she beamed, her earlier doubts dissolving into warmth. Coming here today had been the best decision she'd ever made.

"Don't mention it," she said, her smile widening.

August 12th, 1600:

"Hey, Sebastian?"

Acier's voice broke the morning silence, clear and unhurried. There were no patients yet, and what she had to say didn't warrant the secrecy of the Mind Ring's bond.

Sebastian, in the midst of inventorying his supplies—ointments, bandages, and other consumables—looked up at her.

"Yes?"

Acier twirled a strand of her hair, moving playfully around the stall until she stood in front of it like a patient seeking aid. Leaning forward slightly, she rested her arms on the ledge without putting her weight on it.

"I've been thinking…"

Sebastian blinked. "About what?"

Her smile widened, and she tapped her cheek thoughtfully. "I think I've figured out what you're really trying to do by offering free care."

Sebastian furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

Acier's expression brightened. "You act all gloomy and withdrawn, but deep down, you're just a big softie. You know that?"

Sebastian froze, his hands pausing mid-motion as she continued.

"You use that tip jar as a cover. You make it look like it's not really free service because you're too embarrassed to admit it—you're satisfied helping people, even if you don't get anything in return."

Her words hung in the air as Sebastian looked at her, his dull, ocean-blue eyes meeting hers. Acier held his gaze confidently, her disarming smile unwavering.

After a moment, Sebastian snorted and lowered his head, speaking with a cold sneer. "You know nothing about me."

Don't you dare equate me with what you want me to be, he thought bitterly.

Acier, however, leaned closer, her gaze soft yet yearning. She studied his guarded expression and thought silently, I'd like to get to know you.

August 13th, 1600:

"P-please... help me…"

The oafish thief from two days prior stumbled into Sebastian's clinic stall, blood gushing from a deep gash across his back. His face was pale, glistening with cold sweat.

A few minutes earlier, he had attempted to rob an unassuming woman, not realizing her husband was nearby. The man had wasted no time, slicing the thief's back open with a blade before kicking him squarely in the ribs. Now the thief limped away, life draining from him as bystanders watched in disgust.

No one lifted a finger to help. They sneered or cast sidelong glances that seemed to say, This is what you deserve, you filthy thief.

Acier stood, watching him coldly, her lip curling in disdain. The nerve of this bastard… crawling back here like this—

Her thought was cut off as Sebastian darted around his stall. Under the baffled gazes of Acier and the growing crowd, he knelt beside the man and summoned cool, healing water mana.

Acier shot to her feet, rushing to Sebastian's side, her voice rising. "W-what are you doing? This is the same guy who—"

"Everyone has the right to medical aid," Sebastian interrupted, his voice calm but firm. His hands didn't falter as he worked to close the wound.

Acier froze, stunned. Sebastian continued, his tone unwavering.

"I have no ethical or moral right to aspire to be a doctor if I ignore someone dying in front of me over a petty grudge."

The spectators exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions a mixture of respect and bewilderment. Acier's heart raced as she watched him, her frustration giving way to admiration.

When Sebastian finished, the thief groaned softly, flashing him a look of gratitude. But Sebastian ignored it. Instead, he turned his sharp gaze to Acier.

"That being said, his crimes and sins should not go unanswered."

The crowd stilled, Acier included, as Sebastian grabbed the thief by his hair. With a swift motion, he slammed the man's head into the cobblestones, creating a small crater. Teeth and blood scattered across the ground as the thief went limp.

The silence that followed was comical, everyone blinking in disbelief as Sebastian stood and dusted off his hands like he had touched something repulsive.

"He won't die from that," he said nonchalantly, breaking the spell.

Moments later, a Magic Knight arrived, grumbling as he tied up the unconscious thief and hauled him away.

Unlike everyone else, Acier wasn't watching the thief's departure. Her attention remained locked on Sebastian, her eyes sparkling with intrigue.

I have an idea, she thought, a smile creeping onto her lips.

August 14th, 1600:

Unlike the past few days, Acier hadn't rushed off to Kikka to meet Sebastian after her morning preparations. Instead, she found herself darting through the grounds of Clover Castle, crossing into the neighboring territory of Castle Vermillion.

The maids and butlers at Castle Vermillion, still unaccustomed to Acier's frequent visits, guided her cautiously through the royal halls. They led her upstairs to an expansive room adorned with fine mahogany furniture and rich tapestries.

Inside, Acier was greeted by a serene yet heartwarming scene.

A beautiful woman with vermillion hair and striking blue eyes sat on a mahogany sofa chair, her hands gently cradling her rounded belly. Beside her was a tall young man, his diamond-shaped forehead mark a defining feature. His curly, slightly darker vermillion hair framed stern purple eyes, which softened as they glanced at the woman and her unborn child.

To his right sat a younger boy, similar in appearance but with a gentler air. His soft smile radiated warmth as he looked at the pair.

Amber's eyes lit up as Acier entered the room, while Ignatius gave a polite but awkward cough, quickly reverting to his typically stoic demeanor. Florian, the younger boy, maintained his quiet smile.

"Good morning, Acier," they greeted in unison.

"Good morning!" Acier replied with a cheerful wave as she skipped into the room. She shot Florian a playful grin before elbowing him lightly in the ribs.

"Hey, Florian, when are you going to visit Castle Silva? Aurelia would really appreciate your presence."

Florian turned a shade of crimson, his voice stammering. "W-what d-do y-you mean? W-why would I—"

Noticing the amused grins directed his way, even from his typically professional elder brother, Florian groaned. He buried his face in his hands, trying to hide his embarrassment, before peeking out to ask nervously, "W-would she really…?"

His voice carried hope and hesitation. Florian had never hidden his feelings for Aurelia, but her calm, courteous demeanor left him in constant uncertainty. She had never dismissed him, but neither had she given any clear encouragement, leaving him to wonder whether she tolerated his attention out of genuine interest or royal decorum.

Acier's smile softened as she spoke with gentle reassurance. "Trust me, Florian. If Aurelia disliked you, even if you were the crown prince, she wouldn't bother with courtesy."

Florian sat upright, a flicker of light in his eyes. His resolve strengthened, and he stood abruptly, turning to Ignatius with an awkward fidget.

"B-Brother, I-I'd like to freshen up and pay House Silva a visit... if that's alright?"

Ignatius regarded his younger brother fondly, his stern expression melting into a soft smile.

"Yes, it is, Florian."

Florian's face lit up with a rare smile. He nodded casually to Ignatius and Amber, then offered a more reserved, polite nod to Acier before hurrying out of the room.

As he disappeared down the corridor, Acier turned her attention back to Amber. She flopped down beside her on the sofa, her movements carefree, and gently placed a hand on Amber's belly.

"How's the little one coming along?"

Amber's fond smile widened as she rubbed her belly. "She's a fierce little fighter—always kicking her mother and keeping her father fussing over me and awake at night."

Ignatius cleared his throat awkwardly, his cheeks tinting faintly, while Amber continued with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"Our little Mereoleona could arrive any day now… I'm actually going to be a mother."

Ignatius placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, his voice soft and steady. "You'll do a wonderful job."

Amber paused, her expression melting into one of pure affection, before leaning in to kiss him gently on the lips. Ignatius flushed deeply, his composure faltering under Acier's amused gaze.

Acier stifled a grin as she watched the exchange, content to bask in the warmth of the moment.

Amber grinned, turning her attention back to Acier. "Enough about us. What brings you here so early in the morning?"

She paused, her lips curling into a mischievous smirk. "How'd things with that boy go? Did you reel him in?"

Boy? Ignatius blinked in confusion, his mind racing. Those two actually let a boy near Acier? Have they turned over a new leaf…?

Amber paid no mind to her husband's shifting expression, fully expecting Acier to dissolve into a flustered mess, stammering something like, Amber, you're terrible! I'd never say something so uncouth to someone!

Instead, Acier frowned and wagged a finger at her. "What did those words you told me mean?"

"Huh?" Amber blinked, caught off guard.

Acier's scowl deepened as she crossed her arms. Amber's playful remark had triggered a memory of her friend's prior "advice."

"He gave me the silent treatment for three days after that. He was furious with me. What did those words mean, Amber?"

Amber gaped. "Y-you actually said that to him…?"

"Of course!" Acier replied matter-of-factly. "That was your advice, wasn't it? Why would I ignore it?" She tilted her head, genuinely puzzled.

Amber froze, panic creeping in. Oh no. Oh no no no. Forcing her words out, she stammered, "W-was anyone else around when you said those words to that boy?"

Acier shook her head. "No."

Amber sighed in relief, but it was short-lived as Acier added, "But I was on castle grounds, so if any barrier mages were watching, I guess someone might have overheard."

Amber stiffened. If the barrier mages were listening and reported this to Nicklaus… that boy might not live long enough to regret hearing it. And if word gets out I'm the one who told her to say it, that father-son duo could start the second Silvamillion War!

Ignatius narrowed his eyes at his wife. Amber, what exactly did you make Acier do that's got you so rattled?

Meanwhile, Acier huffed, her arms crossed. "Were those bad words or something? Did you make me say something offensive? That's not very funny, Amber."

"No, no, not at all!" Amber waved her off hurriedly, even as her unborn child delivered a sharp kick. "It's just…"

"Just what?" Acier leaned forward, her expression demanding an answer.

Amber hesitated, then forced a smile. "It's just something you should say to someone you're… more intimate with." Dammit, I was just joking! You weren't supposed to actually say those words? How sheltered are you?!

Acier blinked, scratching her head. "Like with your best friend?"

Amber froze, blinking in disbelief before biting her lip. Her voice dropped to a soft call. "...Acier?"

"Yeah?"

Amber mulled over her response before gritting her teeth. "Didn't you come to me a few days ago asking how to impress your boyfriend?"

Ignatius's pupils dilated. Acier has a boyfriend?!

Acier nodded without hesitation. "Yeah."

Amber stiffened. Forcing a smile, she asked, "Can you clarify what you mean by that?"

Acier shrugged. "Well, he's my newest friend, and he's a boy, so… boyfriend!" She said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Ignatius and Amber both froze.

"Is there something wrong?" Acier frowned, glancing between them.

"No, no, not at all!" Amber quickly interjected, forcing a bright smile. Then, with a gentler tone, she asked, "Honey, is there something you need from us?"

Acier paused, her expression lighting up as she turned to Ignatius. "Oh, yeah! Ignatius, please spar with me!" She clasped her hands together in an earnest plea. "Just one match! Please!"

Ignatius froze, then shook his head firmly. "Apologies, Acier. If word got out, your family wouldn't appreciate it. Besides, I won't leave Amber's side—"

"Honey."

Ignatius stiffened at Amber's sharp, venomous tone. He turned to see her flashing a deathly sweet smile, the kind that promised dire consequences if ignored.

"Fight the girl," she said with dangerous calm.

Ignatius shivered and nodded obediently.

Acier beamed.

Inside the Vermillion private gymnasium, Ignatius and Acier stretched, preparing for their sparring match. Ignatius shot her a stern look.

"Are you ready?"

Acier nodded, her eyes gleaming with determination. With a burst of mana reinforcing her legs, she propelled herself across the gym, charging at Ignatius with startling speed.

She's this fast without a grimoire… truly a genius, Ignatius thought, impressed. Flaming mana swirled around his arm as he readied a blazing right hook to intercept her approach.

As his fist neared, Acier smiled. She didn't dodge.

Ignatius's pupils widened in shock. She's not dodging?

Her face remained unprotected, no layer of mana shielding her, as if she welcomed the impact.

And then his fist connected.

"BAM!"

"Acier?!" Ignatius shouted, his voice a mixture of bafflement and concern.

Meanwhile, under the glaring sun, Sebastian stood in the town square, glancing impatiently at the clock tower.

It's already 8. Did I offend her somehow? She's never late anymore.

He frowned and quickly dismissed the thought. No, it's only 8. Maybe she slept in… that's understandable.

His expression darkened. Wait, why do I even care? If she's late, or if she's not coming, it's none of my business—

"Ack, c-can I h-have some help?"

The hoarse, coughing voice shattered his reverie.

Sebastian's sharp demeanor returned as he lowered his gaze toward the voice's source, his expression blank. But he froze the moment he saw who it was.

Acier stood before him, clad in a silver dress scorched at the edges. Yet that wasn't what seized his attention.

Her face—normally pristine and radiant, a masterpiece of beauty—was now a bloody, battered mess.

Her skin was pale, her nose bruised and visibly broken. Blood smeared her lips and chin, and she coughed weakly, another mouthful spilling forth.

Sebastian, stunned, hadn't even recognized her voice.

Ignoring the onlookers, he sprang over his stall to reach her.

"Hold still," he ordered gruffly, placing his hand on her face. Cool water mana surged from his palm, washing over her wounds with a soothing sensation.

Acier closed her eyes, letting out a soft sigh of relief as the pain ebbed away. She seemed to bask in the warmth of his presence as much as his magic.

Sebastian, however, was distracted. His sharp eyes traced a trail of blood behind her, following it backward. The line stretched far, snaking up the streets all the way to the noble realm.

How far did she walk like this?

Minutes passed as he worked, the worst of her injuries fading under his care. Finally, he removed his hand, revealing her restored face—unmarked save for the dry remnants of blood, which he flicked away with a precise motion.

Rising to his full height, Sebastian loomed over her, his dark gaze locking onto hers.

Acier squirmed under the intensity of his stare.

Without a word, he turned and pointed to the wooden seat behind his stall.

"Sit," he commanded, his tone icy.

Acier stiffened but nodded quickly, making her way around the stall to sit obediently on the worn chair.

Sebastian joined her a moment later, plopping down heavily onto his own seat.

A moment passed before Sebastian finally looked at her and began, his tone sharp.

"Princess Acier, I noticed that trail of blood. You clearly didn't get injured here." His dark eyes bore into her. "Did you actually ignore seeking aid in your immediate vicinity and travel all the way to Kikka just so I would be the one to heal you?"

Acier stiffened but didn't answer. Instead, she averted her gaze, her demeanor uneasy.

Sebastian's frown deepened. "Princess Acier, you will answer me when I'm—" He stopped mid-sentence as he caught sight of her expression.

She was pouting.

Sebastian blinked. Then blinked again. And once more, before exhaling in a sigh filled with exasperated realization.

"Acier," he said, softening his tone slightly to humor the request she'd made two weeks ago to drop the title of "princess."

Acier's face lit up, her pout instantly replaced with a beaming grin.

Sebastian, unfazed, repeated his question. "Acier, did you refuse aid in the noble realm and insist on traveling across the kingdom—sporting a disfigured face and leaking blood—just so I would be the one to treat you?"

Acier paused, biting her lip as her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She gave a shy nod.

Sebastian's face turned crimson with fury, and a vein visibly bulged on his forehead. Without warning, he grabbed her chin, causing her to wince.

"ARE YOU AN IDIOT?!" he roared, his voice echoing down the streets. "WITH THAT MUCH BLOOD LOSS, YOU COULD HAVE DIED!"

Heads turned at the outburst, some onlookers glaring at the disturbance. But as soon as they caught sight of Sebastian's thunderous expression, they hastily looked away.

Sebastian's grip tightened momentarily as he hissed, "What on earth were you thinking? Why would you do something so reckless?!"

Acier tried to speak, but his hold kept her mouth shut. Realizing this, Sebastian loosened his grip slightly but didn't let go, keeping her face fixed toward his.

Her eyes met his, wide and captivated. She saw more than anger in his gaze—there was concern, deep and unmistakable.

Acier's lips curved into a radiant smile. "You do care about me."

Sebastian froze, his furious expression giving way to one of sheer disbelief. He stared at her as if she were an alien, utterly baffled.

"You did this… just to test my feelings for you?" he asked incredulously.

Acier nodded, her smile unfaltering.

Sebastian gaped, his voice dropping to a murmur, as if speaking to himself. "Were those injuries… self-inflicted too?"

Acier tilted her head in thought before answering. "No, but… I kind of let them happen."

Sebastian's grip slackened, and he slowly released her, leaning back in his chair. His expression was a mix of exhaustion and disbelief as he stared at her, utterly dumbfounded.

A minute passed in silence, Acier still smiling as if she'd won some unspoken battle.

Finally, Sebastian parted his lips to speak.

"...Why?" Sebastian asked, his voice barely above a whisper, the single word laden with confusion and disbelief.

Acier twirled a strand of her hair, her cheeks reddening as she fidgeted in embarrassment.

"W-well, you said we weren't friends…" she began, her voice faltering. "So I was trying to figure out where I stood in your eyes. What I meant to you. If I was injured, would you heal me indifferently, like most of your patients? With disgust, like that pig? Or… with a bit of softness, like you show the children?"

She paused, her blush deepening, a tentative grin spreading across her face. "I've never seen you so emotional or concerned before. And it's not like I'm the most grievously injured person you've treated. So this proves I'm special to you in some way… that I mean something to you."

Sebastian gaped at her, his mouth opening to respond, but no words came out. After a moment, he leaned forward in his seat, locking eyes with her. His tone was tired but deliberate as he asked, "Is it worth it? Going through all that just to determine if the stranger who treats you like air feels anything for you?"

Acier didn't break his gaze. She nodded firmly. "To me, it is."

"Why?" Sebastian pressed, his lifeless gaze flickering with something more—something vital, searching.

Acier held his gaze, and for the first time since meeting him, she felt like she was truly connecting with the soul behind those distant eyes. She answered softly.

"Because I want to be your friend."

The flickering light in Sebastian's eyes steadied, the void that had always lingered dissipating. His features softened, and for the first time, his lips curled into a genuine, gentle smile.

"Fine. You got me." He sighed, sorry Aurora but I can't push her away. Sebastian continued with a quiet apology in his voice. "We're definitely friends, Acier. Sorry for lying to you. And… sorry for pushing you away."

Acier froze, her eyes widening. Then her expression bloomed into a radiant smile, tears welling in her eyes as she nodded quickly in contentment.

"Mmm-hmm."

"But," Sebastian said suddenly, his tone growing serious, catching her off guard.

She blinked as his gaze turned somber.

"It is precisely because we are friends that I won't tolerate you treating yourself with such disregard ever again." His voice was firm, unwavering.

Acier straightened, listening intently as he continued.

"If you're injured near me, you can come to me. Or if it's something minor—scrapes or bruises—you can seek my help from afar. But if you're ever injured to the point where not seeking immediate aid puts your life in danger, and you insist on traveling all the way to me… I will never forgive you."

His tone sharpened, an edge of finality in his words. "Whatever friendship we have will be over. As your friend, as an aspiring doctor, and as a human being, I cannot condone such gross negligence of your health. You will cherish your safety. Understood?"

He leaned closer, his eyes piercing. "Promise me now, or don't bother trying to talk to me again, because you won't even get a look from me."

Acier froze, her breath hitching. Yet instead of fear or worry, warmth blossomed in her chest, fluttering in a way she couldn't quite place. Fighting off the heat rising to her cheeks and an unfamiliar emotion swirling within her, she nodded.

"Deal."

Sebastian's lips curled into a bright smile.

And on August 14th, 1600, Acier and Sebastian sealed their friendship.

Author's Notes:

[1] How did you guys think I delivered this chapter, in reality all those dates could've been individual chapters on themselves, like I do in the present timeline where 3 - 4 chapters cover a single day, but if I did that for this back flash, I might graduate before we're out of volume 1.

[2] As always feel free to join the discord at: /s3MME8X8ar


AUTORENGEDANKEN
hmak27230 hmak27230

The formatting in this piece of shit keeps fucking itself up, shitty webnovel, if it's all just one paragraph or some shit, go read in fanfiction, I've been trying to fix it for an hour to no avail.

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