"Father, where are we going?" Solid glanced up at Sebastian as they walked side by side through the halls of the Silva Estate.
The boy's unease was evident—and understandable, considering what had happened just moments ago.
Solid, along with Nebra, Noelle, Mimosa, Amara, and Aurelia, had been waiting quietly in the second-floor living area while Sebastian tended to Acier. They'd passed the time in restless patience, the tension in the air almost tangible.
Nozel and Dorothy had left earlier with Hilda, their engagement ceremony looming and preparations running on borrowed time. Jeeves and Alfred had followed shortly after, though not without first seeking Amara's blessing to excuse themselves—not that they truly needed permission, but old habits and respect ran deep.
An hour had passed before the door to Acier's room finally swung open. The six of them sat up immediately, only to freeze as Sebastian stormed out.
At first, they panicked, thinking something terrible had happened. But as they watched more closely, they noticed his expression wasn't one of anger—but something much closer to fear.
That only added to their confusion. Fear wasn't an emotion they associated with Sebastian Silva.
"Is Sister alright?" Aurelia had blurted, her voice trembling.
Sebastian, still visibly unsettled, stopped long enough to reassure them. "She's fine. You can go see her anytime."
Relief washed over them, though the mystery of his unease remained unsolved. And Sebastian? He offered no explanation. Instead, he cleared his throat and muttered something about needing to head out.
They thought that was the end of it—until Sebastian turned to Solid.
"Come with me," he said.
Solid froze. Never in his four years of life had his father asked him to go anywhere, let alone alone with him. Despite the changes in Sebastian's demeanor in recent times, the boy was still deeply intimidated by him.
At his core, Solid was still just a young child, his heart fragile and his resolve weak. No amount of etiquette lessons or strict early education could change that.
Sebastian didn't push, though. He waited. And when Nebra gave Solid an encouraging pat on the back, the boy swallowed his nerves and nodded.
He followed his father down the hall, staying a step behind, his tiny hands fidgeting nervously. After a moment, Solid mustered the courage to speak.
"Where are we going?"
Sebastian glanced down at him, his expression softening. "To my study."
Solid nodded stiffly, not daring to ask further. But his curiosity burned, and after a pause, Sebastian seemed to sense it.
"I recently hired a tutor for our house," Sebastian added after a beat.
Solid's brow furrowed. "What for?"
It was an odd announcement. House Silva already employed a full roster of highly qualified tutors, covering everything from arithmetic and etiquette to politics, history, and household management.
Did Father fire someone? Solid scratched his chin, his thoughts flashing back to his mother's recent questions. She'd been quizzing him on the lessons taught by his tutor on courting women, only to be completely unsatisfied with his answers.
He'd been crushed, hanging his head in shame at her disappointment. But Acier had reassured him gently, her voice warm and steady. This isn't your fault, Solid. It's the tutor's.
Even with her comforting words, the memory stung. He couldn't help but wonder—was this new tutor meant to replace his own? Or was there something more going on?
Solid glanced up at his father again, searching for answers in his calm but guarded expression.
Not knowing what thoughts were swirling in his son's head, Sebastian answered after a moment. "Trap Magic?"
Solid perked up, a hint of bewilderment creeping into his voice. "Why?"
For the past few months, Solid had been diving into the theoretical aspects of magical study, learning about different types of magic—recovery, creation, curse, sealing, barrier, transformation, and traps.
His tutor had dismissed traps outright, labeling them as overly complicated and too taxing to create, and therefore useless in battle. He'd even called them nothing more than party tricks for those with weak mana.
Solid had no reason to doubt his tutor.
As they rounded a corner, Sebastian finally spoke, his tone measured. "Traps are an interesting topic. Even if you never master them—or even use them—just knowing about them could make your life a lot easier down the line."
"How so?" Solid asked after a beat, his voice less hesitant than usual. He wasn't aware he was slowly growing more comfortable talking to Sebastian.
Sebastian smiled softly before answering with a serious tone. "One day, when you join the Magic Knights, you might find yourself on a dungeon capture mission or raiding some hideout. Those places are often riddled with traps. If you can identify and disable them before they activate, it could save you from a pitiful death or a crippling injury. And dungeon vaults? They're usually sealed with magical codes. If you understand traps and runes, you could hack the code, enter the vault, and secure the loot."
Solid nodded thoughtfully, then frowned and scratched his head. How could something like that be useless?
After a moment, he bit his lip and looked up. "Father?"
"Hmm?" Sebastian raised an eyebrow.
"Why… why did you only ask me to come along?" Solid hesitated, his voice uncertain. "Why not the others?"
Sebastian considered his response carefully. "Trap magic works by absorbing mana from the atmosphere to trigger it." He paused, reflecting inwardly. Though not quite to the extent of the Mana Method. "Our natural attributes make us much more compatible with this form of magic compared to Nozel or Dorothy."
Solid nodded but murmured softly, "What about Elder Sister?" Mist magic, a direct derivative of water—one of the four natural elements—seemed like it would make Nebra a fine candidate. She was older, more advanced in her magical studies, and in Solid's mind, she would benefit far more from this lesson.
He wasn't wrong.
Solid barely reacted as Sebastian suddenly extended a hand toward him. Just as his body tensed, expecting something stern, he froze at the soft pat on his head. It took him a moment to process the gesture, and when he looked up, he gaped at Sebastian in disbelief.
His father's face softened with a gentle smile.
Pausing mid-step, Sebastian spoke quietly. "Right now, yes—this lesson might benefit your sister more. But… I wanted to spend this time with you."
Sebastian sighed, watching as Solid's pupils dilated with a mix of emotions.
Since transmigrating into this world, Sebastian had taken time to bond with his wife and each of his children in unique ways.
Talks with Acier.
Doing Nebra's hair.
Holding Noelle.
Sharing secrets with Dorothy.
Walks with Nozel.
The only one he hadn't shared anything with was Solid.
It's about time I changed that.
After a moment, Sebastian's voice softened even further. "This is just the first session. Just sit in and try to absorb as much as you can. Don't worry if it feels overwhelming—I probably won't be much better. If you don't enjoy it, you can quit. I won't force you. Just… give it a chance, alright?"
Solid hesitated before nodding awkwardly, a strange warmth spreading in his chest. "Mm-hmm."
And so, the two continued walking, the space between them ever so slightly smaller.
As they approached Sebastian's study, the two noticed another pair standing stiffly in front of the door—a father and son, just like them.
Zara and Zora stood side by side, but they were a far cry from their usual peasant attire. Both wore matching blue vests and pants, clean and semi-luxurious, with a few tasteful buckles and white shirts adorned with thin black lines. Zara's hair was combed neatly back, and his facial hair was trimmed to perfection.
It was clear they weren't entirely comfortable in their outfits. Zara and Zora weren't the type to embrace luxury, even though their newfound wealth now allowed it. Their nature was one of practicality and saving every coin.
But Sebastian had made one thing clear: as the royal tutor of House Silva, Zara now represented the family in both actions and appearance. Dressing like a peasant was simply unacceptable. Sebastian wouldn't tolerate rumors of House Silva neglecting its servants or failing to provide them with even basic necessities like proper clothing.
When Sebastian initially offered to pay for their clothes, Zara declined. He was done accepting handouts. Instead, he'd simply asked for a recommendation to a good tailor, and from there, he'd handled it himself.
The pair noticed Sebastian and Solid's arrival and immediately bowed, their movements awkward. "Greetings, Lord Silva—"
"Please," Sebastian interjected, raising a hand to stop them. "As I've said before, I'm not one to care about formalities unless they're absolutely necessary. You only need to bow when we're in front of others. When it's just us, be casual and blunt."
Zara nodded stiffly, relief barely noticeable in his posture. He worked best in a relaxed environment. Forcing him to follow strict etiquette every moment would only slow their progress and make things unnecessarily tedious.
Straightening, Zara gestured to his son. "Would it be alright if Zora attended the lesson? He won't interfere or interrupt—he just wants to stay by my side and listen."
Zora had been glued to his father ever since Zara's near-death experience. Though he treated Sebastian with deep respect as the man who'd saved his father, Zora couldn't shake the fear that leaving Zara alone might mean losing him for good.
In addition, Zora had grown obsessed with magic and self-improvement after the incident. His dream of becoming the "ultimate warrior" consumed him, fueled by a desire to root out corruption in the Magic Knights and across the kingdom.
Sebastian nodded coolly. "Not a problem."
In fact, he welcomed Zora's participation. Good students often elevate others, and if Zora's enthusiasm inspired Solid, the results would come faster.
Sebastian turned to Solid. "I trust it won't be an issue for my son to join as well?"
"Not at all! Not at all!" Zara said quickly, shaking his head and waving off the question.
With a small nod, Sebastian opened the door and gestured for Zara and Zora to enter first. "After you."
Solid blinked in surprise as he watched his father hold the door open for "servants." His mouth opened to protest but froze when he caught the grateful glances the pair threw Sebastian.
His gaze shifted to Zora, who was helping Zara limp inside, the older man leaning heavily on his son's shoulder. Solid's eyes widened imperceptibly.
He turned to his father and noticed a complex emotion flicker in Sebastian's eyes as he watched them. Solid wisely held his tongue.
"Solid?" Sebastian called, still holding the door open.
"Hmm?" Solid raised an eyebrow before noticing his father's gesture toward the entrance. Oh.
Realizing Sebastian was waiting for him, Solid hurriedly entered the study. His father followed a moment later, closing the door gently behind them.
Sebastian glanced at the trio and gestured toward a large wooden table positioned in front of an ornate bookcase. Zara, with Zora's help, made his way to the table and sat on the side facing the bookcase. Zora took his seat beside his father without a word.
Sebastian and Solid moved to the opposite side of the table, pulling out chairs and sitting down unceremoniously.
Zara reached to his side, pulling out a large, worn notebook and setting it on the table. Its frayed edges and scuffed cover bore testament to countless hours of hard study. Clearing his throat with a quiet cough, Zara addressed Sebastian and Solid. Though his words were meant for both, his gaze unconsciously lingered more on Sebastian.
"Trap Magic is a type of magic that allows one to create traps by intricately designing a magic circle. These circles can be placed in the path of a person or object and given specific conditions to activate—like triggering when someone steps within a certain radius."
He paused, gauging their reactions. Seeing no interruptions, he continued, "Traps are typically placed on solid surfaces like floors and walls. However, with enough practice, they can even be drawn in midair."
As if to demonstrate, Zara tapped his right index finger against the table. A gray, runic magic circle with a hexagram pattern shimmered into existence, faintly glowing. He tapped again, and it vanished.
Sebastian and Zora nodded; this was familiar territory for them. Solid, however, perked up, his eyes shining faintly with interest.
Scratching his chin, Zara pressed on, his tone awkward as he tried to stick to the carefully rehearsed lesson plan. He recited formal phrases that didn't quite fit his usual way of speaking. "The more complex a trap, the longer it takes to draw, and the more mana it requires to activate. These drawbacks make traps impractical for spontaneous use and potentially fatal in unplanned battles. This is why many dismiss trap magic as useless."
He raised a finger, his voice gaining conviction. "However, it's precisely because trap magic is so intricate that it holds unique advantages. First, unlike everyday magic arrays that are conjured on the spot, trap magic is meticulously constructed—each line, rune, and geometric detail interconnected. This means that even if the creator disappears, their traps can remain active for years, even centuries. That's why dungeons are so dangerous. Ancient mages riddled them with traps that outlasted their own lifetimes."
Solid unconsciously leaned forward in his seat, his attention fixed on Zara.
Zara raised a second finger. "Second, many mages find themselves at a disadvantage in battle due to elemental mismatches. Take a fire mage and a water mage with equal mana reserves—nine times out of ten, the fire mage will struggle unless they have exceptionally creative spells."
"With traps, however, you can change the rules. You can redirect enemy spells, double or even triple your attack power, force spells to move in irregular paths, paralyze opponents, bind them, imprison them, and much more."
"You can even copy an opponent's spell and use it against them with greater intensity."
Sebastian and Solid's visible interest encouraged Zara, though he tried to hide his relief.
"And that's just in battle. In everyday life, traps have countless uses. You can secure or hide belongings, protect secret bases, design processes to make tasks more efficient, and more."
Sebastian's thoughts drifted momentarily. Could I create a magic tool to forge my signature and an array to do my paperwork for me?
Zara opened his notebook and unfolded a piece of paper tucked inside, spreading it out on the table. It was covered with rough sketches of various magic circles. But Zara flipped the page, revealing a neatly ordered list of runes.
Hoarsely, he said, "Through my studies and self-discovery, I've identified 32 runes. Think of them like letters in an alphabet, each with its own sound and meaning. When you combine them in different ways, you create words—or in this case, instructions—for your spells."
He tapped the list. "Today, we'll focus on understanding these runes: what they mean, how their meanings change when arranged in particular patterns, and, if time permits, creating a preliminary magic circle."
Sebastian and Solid nodded in unison, their expressions serious.
Zara smiled faintly and pointed to the first rune on the list—a symbol that resembled π. "This symbol here is called…"
House Silva Great Hall:
A slow, stately melody filled the vast space of the Silva great hall. On a slightly elevated podium in the corner, three musicians worked in seamless harmony. The first pressed the keys of a harpsichord, its delicate notes resonating brightly. The second drew a bow across the strings of a viol, adding a rich, somber undertone. The third strummed a lute, weaving warmth into the composition. Together, their music flowed elegantly, echoing off the high ceilings and gilded walls.
Standing a short distance away with her back to the musicians was a striking young woman in a maid's uniform. Her long blonde hair gleamed under the light of a crystal chandelier. Her expression remained neutral, her impassive gaze fixed on the unfolding scene.
At the center of the hall, Nozel and Dorothy stepped forward, their hands linked in a formal posture—Nozel's right clasping Dorothy's left. They moved to the rhythm of the song, their steps carefully choreographed to match the 2/4 tempo. Starting with a synchronized step forward on their right feet, they tried to maintain perfect coordination.
Yet, perfection eluded them. Dorothy's left foot lagged slightly behind at times, throwing off their rhythm. Knees bent, toes raised delicately, they turned toward one another, spinning in a practiced twirl before retreating again. Their movements, though rehearsed, carried subtle imperfections—a step out of sync here, a twirl slightly askew there.
Hilda, the head maid, raised her arm abruptly. The music stopped mid-phrase, leaving the pair frozen in their latest motion. Dorothy's forced smile betrayed her unease as Hilda approached with her characteristic coolness.
"Ms. Unsworth," Hilda began, her tone flat but tinged with fatigue as she looked Dorothy over. "You already know what I'm about to say, don't you?"
Dorothy fidgeted under her gaze, offering a nervous smile. "I was off tempo, holding Nozel back, and my turns were too angled... and too casual," she recited, the familiar critique spilling from her lips.
These were the same corrections she'd heard repeatedly since the lessons began. When Jeeves and Hilda had first demonstrated the dance earlier that day, Dorothy had dismissed it as a glorified walk. She now realized her mistake.
Dorothy never knew it was possible to take a step wrong.
It was only now that she fully grasped what Sebastian meant when he described the rigid lives of nobility. This was pure torture.
Hilda gave a curt nod, her voice cool and cutting. "Do not concern yourself with the music. That is the Young Master's role. Your sole responsibility is to follow his lead. A good wife follows her husband from slightly behind—not by his side, and certainly not trying to take the lead."
Dorothy's smile wavered, visibly strained. She nodded stiffly, suppressing the urge to argue.
Nozel frowned, his disapproval evident. "Hilda, aren't you being too harsh on her? This is only the first day."
The maid turned to him, her cold expression unchanged. Her reply was calm but unwavering. "Not at all, Young Master. If anything, I am being far too lenient, solely because she is your partner. Do keep in mind that this is a matter of House Silva's reputation."
Nozel's gaze narrowed, his jaw tightening. Yet, for once, he couldn't find the words to argue back.
The dance Nozel and Dorothy practiced was the Pavane, a slow and stately movement deeply ingrained in noble traditions. It was a piece performed by noble or royal couples at grand celebrations, steeped in symbolism. In this case, it was for their upcoming engagement reception, where all eyes would be on them.
Their performance had to be flawless—not merely to showcase their compatibility but because the Pavane's rigid elegance carried deeper meaning. A perfect execution symbolized a harmonious union destined for joy and love. Any flaw would imply discord, casting doubts on their future marriage and tarnishing the Silva name.
For Dorothy, the stakes were even higher. Unlike Nozel, she was not of noble birth—a fact that would immediately draw attention. Her performance couldn't merely meet expectations; it had to exceed them, silencing any whisper of dissent. If they faltered, it would give envious rivals and detractors the ammunition they needed to attack her standing.
Though few would openly challenge her under House Silva's protection, the scheming nature of nobles ensured subtler, more insidious threats. Dorothy's family, as loving as they were, could shield her from such venom, but not in every waking moment of her life. Babysitting her, and keeping her cloistered for safety wasn't a solution either—what kind of life would that be?
In the future, there would be moments when Dorothy would stand alone. During those times, those harboring grudges or ambitions would strike, seeking to humiliate or force her to abandon her engagement. She had to be unassailable, an image of perfection that left no room for criticism.
Hilda, the head maid, understood this all too well. It was why she was so strict, pushing Dorothy to her limits. Hilda bore no personal grudge against her—quite the opposite. Although only knowing her for a few days, she had grown fond of Dorothy, recognizing that her feelings for Nozel were genuine, untangled from ambition for wealth or status.
Precisely because of this, Hilda was determined to see Dorothy succeed, even if it meant Dorothy would resent her for the harshness. No one else deserves to stand beside Nozel. Hilda would ensure Dorothy became flawless, no matter the cost.
Nozel's eyes flicked toward Dorothy. Her subtle tremble did not escape his notice, and something inside him twisted. Shooting Hilda a steely glare, his voice carried an unmistakable edge as he spoke.
"As I said before, Hilda, it's the first day. You need not be so stiff."
Dorothy's eyes widened at his words, a wave of warmth spreading through her chest. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, gratitude shining in her gaze. Her legs, which had been trembling moments before, steadied.
Hilda, seeing this, let out an audible sigh. Closing her eyes briefly, she composed herself. Then, with a deliberate curtsy, she addressed Nozel in a deferential tone.
"Young Master, may I be so bold as to speak bluntly?"
Nozel's sharp gaze lingered on her for a moment before he nodded. "You may."
Keeping her head bowed, Hilda's voice was calm but firm as she said, "Young Master, this is all your fault."
The hall fell into an awkward silence. The musicians stilled, bowing their heads as though trying to fade into the background.
Dorothy gaped slightly, while Nozel stiffened. His mouth opened, but no words came as he stared at Hilda, utterly speechless.
Perhaps not that blunt, he thought bitterly.
Hilda didn't leave the silence hanging for long. Before anyone could speak, she continued with a sharp tone, her words directed squarely at Nozel.
"Young Master, I wouldn't need to be so strict with Ms. Unsworth if it weren't for you."
Nozel raised an incredulous brow, his voice clipped as he retorted, "How so? I never asked you to do this! Don't slander me."
Hilda straightened her posture, arms crossing in front of her as she met his challenge.
"Young Master, the engagement ceremony is just a few weeks away, all because of your premature actions in the courtroom. Time is not a luxury we have. Every day, the servants are working tirelessly—planning the menu, designing the hall, sending out invitations, and handling a mountain of other preparations."
"Which is your job!" Nozel pointed out coolly.
"Indeed," Hilda replied without missing a beat, her tone even. "However, it is also our job to ensure that the two of you, the main attraction of this ceremony, are prepared to meet the expectations of the entire noble circle. If you falter, Young Master, the Silva name will become a laughingstock."
Nozel clenched his fists as her words sank in. He opened his mouth to argue further, but before he could, Hilda pressed on.
"It has been a mere six days since Ms. Unsworth entered this household. In that time, she has had to adjust to an entirely new world while also preparing for this engagement. She must master proper etiquette, learn how to address nobility, how to eat and converse appropriately, and memorize the traits and tendencies of other noble families. She must avoid offending one or, worse, unwittingly giving another cause to scheme against her. And this is only the beginning."
Hilda's words hung heavy in the air.
"Marriages into noble families are not unheard of, but they are exceptionally rare. Typically, such individuals undergo years of preparation to withstand the pressures of this life. But thanks to your actions, Dorothy has little more than three weeks to learn what most take a lifetime to master. She faces countless sleepless nights ahead, all because you acted too soon."
Nozel grit his teeth, the weight of her words and his own impulsiveness pressing down on him. He opened his mouth to protest once more, but Hilda anticipated his thoughts.
"You left Master Silva no choice," she said coldly. "One does not announce an engagement in the sacred courtroom before the entire aristocracy without the implication that the ceremony will follow shortly. At most, your father could delay it for a month before rumors began to spread—rumors of your fiancée's inadequacy or of your engagement falling apart."
Nozel's jaw tightened as guilt surged within him. His gaze flicked to Dorothy, who looked both determined and vulnerable. He turned back to Hilda, speaking with newfound resolve.
"I'll talk to Father. I'll push it back a week."
Hilda shook her head. "Not an option. Invitations have already been sent to several noble houses. Delaying the event would signal that House Silva cannot honor its commitments, further disgracing us."
"I'll take responsibility," Nozel snapped, cutting her off. "The blame lies with me. I'll make it clear this has nothing to do with House Silva—"
"That is a naive thought, Young Master," Hilda interrupted. "As the nominal heir, your actions and House Silva's reputation are inextricably linked. No amount of excuses will change that."
Nozel's frustration reached its peak, but before he could respond, he felt a soft touch on his cheek. Startled, he turned to see Dorothy gazing at him with a gentle, loving smile.
"Nozel, let's keep practicing," she said softly.
He furrowed his brows and shook his head. "Why? You don't need to. Trust me, Father and I will handle this—"
He froze as Dorothy placed her other hand on his cheek, her smile unwavering.
"I can do this, Nozel. Give me a chance."
Nozel gaped at her, his protests faltering. "I believe you, but you don't have to push yourself—"
Dorothy's firm voice cut through his hesitation. "Nozel! Aren't I part of this family too?"
He stiffened, nodding after a beat. "Of course you are."
"Then let me do my part. I can't just stand by while you and Dad shoulder everything for my sake."
Nozel's mouth opened to argue, but Dorothy pinched his cheeks, pouting as she scolded him. "Didn't you say we're partners? Didn't you say you wanted an equal by your side, not someone you have to shelter?"
His heart skipped a beat as he nodded stiffly.
"Then let me prove it. I won't let anyone down, as long as you don't give up on me," she said, her voice brimming with determination. Her smile brightened. "Besides, with you helping me, there's no way I'll fail!"
Nozel flushed and nodded, speechless. Dorothy turned back to Hilda and performed a flawless curtsy.
"Ms. Hilda, we're ready to resume practice."
Hilda's icy demeanor softened for the briefest moment, the corners of her lips quirking upward. Without a word, she raised her arm and stepped back.
The music began once more, filling the hall. Nozel and Dorothy took their places, linking hands as they resumed their dance with renewed vigor.
Acier's Wing
Night blanketed the Silva estate, the halls bathed in shadows broken only by the flickering glow of Sebastian's candle. Dressed in simple white cotton nightwear, he moved with slow, measured steps, his slippers whispering against the rugged floor.
As he neared Acier's door, the cold air outside seemed to seep into his resolve. His hand hovered over the doorknob, but he hesitated, stepping back.
Pacing in the dark corridor, Sebastian wrestled with himself. I could just leave. Surely, she wouldn't go so far as to hunt me down, would she?
He glanced at the faintly glowing hands of his pocket watch. It's not even 11 yet. I don't have to step inside a second earlier than necessary.
Despite the reassurances, his mind spun with scenarios, none of them particularly appealing. A desperate idea struck him: Maybe I should bring Noelle. If we frame it as "family time," Acier wouldn't try anything in front of her baby. She couldn't possibly send Noelle away either, could she?
Surely, her obsession with me can't exceed her love for her children. Right?
Just as he convinced himself to walk away, a melodic voice rang out from behind the door.
"How much longer are you going to make me wait, Sebby? Should I drag you inside myself?"
Sebastian froze, cold sweat running down his back. How does she know I'm here?!
For a fleeting moment, hope sparked. Could her mana sense have recovered? Any other time, that thought would have brought him immense relief, a sign of her improving health.
But now, it felt like the Grim Reaper had spoken.
With a resigned sigh, Sebastian straightened his shoulders. Let's just get this over with.
He opened the door, stepping inside with his head bowed, his movements stiff and awkward.
When he raised his gaze, his breath caught.
Acier stood in the center of the room, bathed in silvery moonlight that spilled through the window. She wore a flowing white gown, modest yet ethereal, covering her entirely save for her feet, hands, neck, and face. Her untied silver hair cascaded down her back, shimmering in the moon's glow.
Her lavender eyes sparkled with fondness as she smiled softly, a warmth that pierced through Sebastian's flustered thoughts. Most striking of all—she looked healthier than he'd seen her ever since transmigrating, the frailty he had come to associate with her entirely absent.
Sebastian's lips parted to speak, but Acier chuckled, her voice honey-sweet.
"Lilith's spell hasn't come undone," she explained lightly. "I just asked her to add a feature so I could turn it off and on as I please."
She had been turning the spell off as a nightly ritual, examining herself in the mirror to gauge her progress. Though her health was indeed improving, Acier sought tangible proof of her recovery. She was certain she was in the final stages, needing only to deceive Megicula's lingering mark on her soul, so her bloodstream could be completely purified.
Acier stepped forward, her hands resting casually behind her back. She stopped just before Sebastian, tilting her head up to meet his eyes.
"How do I look?" she asked softly, her smile never faltering.
Sebastian found himself transfixed, caught in Acier's radiant presence. His mind wrestled with what to say. Beautiful, he wanted to respond, but the word that escaped his lips was:
"Healthy."
It was unclear whether it was his own embarrassment or the residual traits of the original Sebastian holding him back.
Instead of disappointment, Acier's smile widened. She glanced toward the bed and gave a subtle nod.
Sebastian followed her gaze and noticed the bed neatly prepared for two. The setup was unmistakable: two sides, two pillows, clearly meant for a couple.
His brow twitched, and he turned to Acier with a flat expression.
"The near side is mine," he declared, his tone firm. His face betrayed a silent warning: Try anything, and I'll be out the door in a flash.
Of course, he'd never admit the real reason—he wanted her by the window so she could enjoy the fresh breeze, worried her cursed condition might make her sweat during the night.
That admission would have been far too embarrassing.
Acier let out a soft chuckle. "That's fine," she agreed easily.
Sebastian sighed as he moved past her, setting the candle down on the bedside table. He slipped off his slippers, sat down on the mattress, and stretched out. The covers swished lightly as he pulled them over himself, his gaze fixed toward the right side, expecting Acier to settle into her spot.
But nothing happened.
Instead, Sebastian froze as he felt the mattress shift. The unmistakable sensation of someone crawling over him snapped his head back to the left.
"Acier, what are you doing—"
His words died in his throat as Acier straddled him, gently pushing him down by the chest. Her serene smile never faltered as she leaned in, her silver hair cascading around them.
"This spot is mine," she murmured with a soft chuckle, settling herself comfortably atop him.
Sebastian's face flushed crimson, his breath catching as Acier rested her head on his chest. After a moment, she shifted, propping her chin on his chest to look up at him with an enchanting gaze.
Then, slowly, she slid higher, her face now directly above his, the space between them narrowing with every passing second.
"Hey, Sebby?" she whispered, her fingers trailing gently along his cheeks.
Sebastian gulped, his heart pounding in his chest. "W-what…?"
Acier paused for a moment, her lavender eyes locking with his. Then, she closed the distance until their noses touched, her hands cradling his flushed cheeks.
Her voice dropped to a hushed whisper, soft but piercing.
"Do you love me?"
Sebastian froze.
Although this chapter isn't R18 it does contain some content not suitable for young children, read with your own discretion.
"Do you love me?"
Sebastian froze. His gaze locked onto Acier's soft, ethereal face, illuminated by the moonlight spilling through her bedroom window. She lay on top of him, her expression calm yet brimming with intensity.
Do you love me? The words echoed in his mind, over and over, like a broken record. Acier's gentle smile betrayed none of the weight behind her question as she waited for an answer.
Her fingers brushed lightly over his face, tracing its contours before her nose grazed his. Any other time, the gesture would have sent a shiver racing down his spine. Now, he was stiff as a board.
Sebastian drew in a deep, measured breath. Then, without a word, he grabbed her wrist. Before Acier could react, he flipped her over, rolling her onto the bed so that he was now on top.
"Ah—!" Acier let out a startled gasp, her wide eyes locking onto his as the shift in position sank in. She lay there, pinned beneath him, as Sebastian knelt above her.
Her breath hitched, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks as he held her wrists firmly, preventing any chance of escape. His unamused expression bore down on her, sharp and cutting, making her tremble under his gaze.
She forced a nervous laugh, trying to ease the tension. "S-Sebby—"
"What kind of question is that?" Sebastian interrupted, his tone cold and clipped.
Acier flinched, her trembling intensifying. But before she could respond, Sebastian leaned in closer, his face mere inches from hers. Their eyes met squarely, and the weight of his stare was suffocating.
"Of course, I love you!" His voice softened, but his expression twisted into one of incredulity, as though he were staring at a complete idiot.
Acier froze, her eyes wide in shock.
Sebastian's jaw tightened as he watched her reaction. Do you love me? Do you love me? The question churned in his mind, dragging along a bitter tangle of emotions. What kind of stupid question is that?
Would I be doing all this if I didn't? he thought bitterly. Running myself ragged to save you, to fix this family, all for some misguided sense of guilt? As if I couldn't just wash my hands of this mess, claim none of it was my responsibility, and walk away?
Do I look like some saint with a messiah complex? His lips twitched as if to sneer. Why do you look so surprised?
Ever since he'd transmigrated into this world and met Acier Silva, Sebastian hadn't doubted for a second that he loved her. There was no hesitation, no reason to avoid saying it aloud—unless he wanted to stir up some drama for fun or couldn't stomach the embarrassment.
But this? This reaction? It made him want to storm off to House François and demand they peer into her mind. Did Megicula turn her into an idiot or something?
He wanted to scream it all at her, unload every ounce of frustration swirling in his chest. But watching her now—her vulnerability, the weight of her emotions—it was clear this question mattered deeply to her.
Sebastian sighed inwardly. He could have ended the conversation right here, let his answer be enough.
But no.
She deserved to hear the whole truth.
"Acier," Sebastian's voice was soft, almost hesitant as he parted his lips to speak.
"Y-yeah, Sebby?" Acier perked up immediately, her blush deepening as her face lit with unrestrained joy. Tears glimmered in her eyes, threatening to fall in torrents.
Sebastian gritted his teeth. He wanted to stay silent, to leave her basking in this moment of happiness. But he knew why she was so elated, and the truth gnawed at him. From the fractured memories of his predecessor, he understood. The old Sebastian had never once told Acier he loved her since their engagement. And the times he had said it before, as though it were effortless? Acier had long dismissed those as hollow lies from a false, fleeting past.
He didn't want to shatter her joy, but breaking her heart seemed inevitable. A curse he could not escape in this life.
"I definitely love you, Acier…" Sebastian began, his voice steady but laced with unease.
"But?" Acier stilled instantly, the flicker of hope in her eyes faltering as she caught the weight behind his words.
Sebastian bit his lip, his tone gentler now. "But I don't think it's the kind of love you're asking about."
He watched her freeze, her tears no longer brimming with joy. Reaching out, Sebastian wiped away the streaks from her cheeks. His hand lingered briefly before he forced himself to continue.
"I love you as something far more than a friend, a partner, or someone to confide in. But…" He paused, swallowing hard. "I don't know yet if I love you as a woman—as a lover."
"Oh." Acier's voice was barely audible, her lips trembling as the single word escaped. She turned her face away slightly, trembling fingers wiping at her eyes as Sebastian let go of her wrist.
She sniffled, rubbing her face with trembling hands in an effort to regain her composure. The sight twisted something deep inside Sebastian.
He felt like absolute shit.
But he didn't completely regret it.
The original Sebastian in me, twisted as he was, definitely regrets this, he thought bitterly. But I need time—to figure out whether I truly share those feelings or if I'm just being influenced by him.
Sebastian exhaled heavily, his chest tight with the weight of his decision. If I tell her I love her the way she wants and it's true, that's one thing. But if it turns out to be a lie, I'd be the worst kind of bastard.
Still kneeling on the bed, Sebastian watched her closely. Acier finally lowered her hands, revealing her face. Though her eyes were rimmed red and streaked with dried tears, her expression was calm.
A weak smile broke through, and slowly, she raised her arms. Her hands cupped his cheeks once more, their warmth drawing him out of his thoughts. She rubbed his face gently, her voice soft but steady.
"Thanks for being honest with me."
Sebastian opened his mouth to respond, intending to stiffly nod in agreement, but she continued, her smile shifting into something sly.
"But I wish you'd be honest with yourself."
Sebastian's brows furrowed, his confusion evident. "What do you mean—"
Sebastian stopped mid-sentence as Acier moved her hands from his face, reaching instead toward the lower part of his body. Before he could react, she grabbed something—something unmistakably "hard."
He felt his brain short-circuit as his head jerked downward in a stiff, robotic motion, confirming what his stunned nerves already told him.
Three agonizing seconds passed as reality sank in. She was gripping what he thought she was gripping. His face turned a brilliant shade of crimson as he raised his head back up slowly, his expression frozen in utter disbelief. Acier's smug smile only made the situation worse.
She gave "it" a squeeze, her voice dripping with teasing playfulness. "You say one thing, but your body does another."
Sebastian immediately devolved into a stammering, flustered mess, his embarrassment peaking as he scrambled for a defense. "T-t-t-this is a normal male reaction!"
Acier's eyes curved into sly crescents as she tilted her head. Her tone turned foxy. "To what?"
Are you really going to make me say it? Sebastian gritted his teeth, frustration building before he finally spat out, "To a gorgeous woman!"
There! I said it! Are you happy now?! he cursed inwardly, his humiliation burning brighter than his blush.
Acier's blush returned in full force, but she quickly composed herself. Her voice remained playful, her eyes glinting with anticipation as she echoed the question she'd asked earlier. "How do I look?"
Sebastian trembled, feeling the weight of her gaze. With a sigh of defeat, he answered honestly, "Beautiful." This time, his body and words were finally in sync.
As Acier's pleased smile grew, Sebastian felt a wave of annoyance tickle his pride. But how could he argue when he'd already been thoroughly exposed?
Sebastian was no ascetic, no monk immune to temptation, especially when it came to Acier Silva. She was, without a doubt, breathtaking. Straddling his lap, pinning him down, teasing him like this—she wasn't making any of this easier.
Even with canon still years away, Acier was already hailed as the number one beauty in the Clover Kingdom. Charlotte was just a brat, Dorothy's age, at this point. And honestly? Even if Charlotte grew into a stunning woman, it wouldn't matter to Sebastian. In his eyes, no one could compare to Acier.
Some of that sentiment might've come from the old Sebastian's lingering influence—the man who'd only ever had eyes for her. But even without that, Sebastian doubted his feelings would change. Who would need anyone else? Who would even dare look elsewhere when you already have Acier Silva in your life?
Hell, even in his old world, Sebastian was certain that if Acier entered a Miss Universe or Miss World competition, she'd win hands down. Every single time. No makeup, no filters, just her natural beauty. The only way she'd lose was if the competition was rigged by some "woke" panel trying to be inclusive.
The point was, Sebastian was undeniably, helplessly attracted to her. Especially after this.
Gritting his teeth, he spoke hoarsely, "Acier, you're making it very hard for me to hold back."
Acier's lips curved into a mischievous smile as she licked her lips slightly. Her grip tightened as she locked her mesmerizing lavender eyes with his. "Maybe I don't want you to hold back."
Sebastian stiffened, his breath catching as she leaned closer, her voice dropping into a whisper. "Maybe I want you to let everything loose on me. Maybe…" She paused, her lips brushing against his ear. "…I want to go for round five."
Sebastian trembled, her words striking him like a bolt of lightning.
"And," she continued, her tone sultry, "maybe I'm just playing with you."
Sebastian froze, blinking rapidly. "Huh?"
Before he could say anything, Acier let go of "that" and spread her hands in mock innocence.
"Relax, Sebby. I'm just joking."
Sebastian gaped at her as she laughed melodiously, her teasing voice ringing out. "No matter how much I love you, I'd never force myself on you—or tempt you—while you were conflicted or unwilling."
Well… never again, anyway, Acier thought wryly, though she coughed lightly to cover her expression. Reaching up, she pinched his nose gently.
"Take your time sorting out your feelings. I can wait."
Sebastian remained frozen, hovering over her like a statue. Acier, grinning broadly, started poking his cheek playfully.
"Hahaha, your face right now is priceless!" she teased, her laughter bubbling over. "I'm going to remember this forever."
It took Sebastian a moment to fully process what had just happened.
This woman just played me for a fool.
The veins on his temple throbbed, and his forehead twitched as he stared down at Acier. His expression was unreadable, but beneath it all, he was anything but amused.
Yet, as Acier continued poking at him, utterly oblivious to his inner turmoil, a slow, deliberate smile spread across his face—a smile that wasn't really a smile.
Fine, he thought, you like teasing others, huh? Well, two can play at that game.
"Eeep!" Acier squeaked in surprise as Sebastian suddenly seized her wrists, pinning them against the bedframe above her head. Her startled gaze met his, but before she could utter more than a stammered, "S-Sebby—" her words were silenced.
Her pupils dilated as Sebastian leaned down and captured her lips with his. It took her a moment to register the warmth and roughness of his kiss, but when she did, her eyes fluttered shut, and she eagerly returned the gesture.
So soft, Sebastian mused as their kiss deepened, tongues colliding in an intense and passionate exchange.
Despite Acier's lack of perfume or makeup, she smelled faintly of lavender, and her lips carried the sweet taste of strawberries. Sebastian felt a dangerous temptation to lose himself entirely in her enthusiasm as she leaned further into him, her eagerness palpable.
But his pride wasn't about to let her win that easily. This one's for the boys.
Acier gasped softly when Sebastian abruptly pulled away. Her wide eyes snapped open, her face flushed and lips swollen. Panting, she protested, "W-why did you stop?!"
Sebastian's smile turned smug as he threw her words back at her. "Maybe, I was just playing with you."
"Awww!" Acier whined loudly, her pout almost comical as she glared at him in frustration.
Doesn't feel so good now, does it? His look practically screamed as he rolled to his side, casually claiming his spot on the bed.
Acier turned onto her stomach, glaring at him with mock displeasure, her cheeks still red. Her annoyed stare only made him chuckle.
Before she could respond further, Sebastian's arm darted out, causing her to flinch. But instead of another tease, he wrapped his arm around her back, pulling her close. Her breath hitched as her body stiffened, her chest now pressed against his side.
Sebastian gently tousled her hair, his movements soft and comforting. Leaning down, he planted a tender kiss on her forehead, his hand finding her chin as he lifted her gaze to meet his.
"I won't make you wait long," he murmured, his voice gentle but firm. "Once you're healed, and we've had that talk you wanted, I'll give you a definite answer."
Acier rested her head against his shoulder, her lavender eyes shimmering with a mixture of hope and doubt. Her voice was a soft whisper, tinged with sorrow. "But what if you run away before then?"
Sebastian traced the outline of her face with his fingers, his touch sending shivers down her spine. His tone remained steady as he replied, "Unless you—or our children—push me away and tell me to get lost, I'm not going anywhere."
Acier didn't look relieved. Instead, her voice dropped lower as she confessed, "Living like strangers in the same house, seeing one another once in a blue moon, avoiding each other… to me, that's the same as running away."
Sebastian's gaze drifted upward, staring at the ceiling. His jaw tightened briefly before he spoke. "I can't promise you much right now. But I swear, no matter what happens, things will never go back to how they were. You'll never have to deal with a no-show husband again. Ever."
Acier's expression softened, her lips curving into a faint smile. She nuzzled her face into his neck, giving him a featherlight kiss on the cheek. "Mm-hmm."
Settling into his embrace, she laid her head on his shoulder. Together, they stared at the ceiling in a moment of quiet companionship.
Sebastian's hand shifted, reaching for hers. Acier's eyes widened as she felt his fingers slip between hers, their hands intertwining. She tightened her grip, their clasp a silent promise of warmth and company.
I could get used to this, they both thought at the same time.
Seconds stretched into minutes, the comfortable silence enveloping them like a warm blanket. Eventually, Sebastian chose to break it.
"Hey, Acier?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you love me?"
Acier felt a laugh bubble up. Now who's being the idiot? With a soft chuckle, she shifted, rolling herself on top of him again. Sliding up his chest, her face hovered directly above his.
Her amused expression faltered when she saw him. Sebastian wasn't blushing furiously as he usually did. Instead, he looked at her with a calm yet intense gaze, his focus entirely on her.
Acier smiled fondly, her fingers coming up to cup his cheeks. Her tone was gentle, teasing. "We've been over this. Didn't you say it yourself? That I hate you?"
Sebastian's lips curved into a soft smile. "I think it's fair for me to start doubting that, given your recent actions."
"Heh." Acier laughed quietly, resting her head briefly on his chest before raising it again. "Yeah, you're right. I don't hate you. I hate myself."
Sebastian stilled, his brow furrowing. His voice dropped to a tender murmur. "What do you mean?"
"I mean…" Acier hesitated, her eyes darting to the bedframe as she avoided his gaze. After a moment, she lowered her head to meet his eyes. "I hate that I love you."
Sebastian's hands reached up, mirroring hers as he cupped her cheeks. His expression turned serious, his voice steady but firm. "Explain."
Acier sighed, pulling herself free from his hold. She laid back, resting on top of him, her back pressed against his chest. Her gaze locked onto the ceiling, unable to face him directly.
Sebastian, understanding her need for space, responded by wrapping his arms securely around her waist. The embrace was firm but comforting, protective yet gentle.
Acier closed her eyes, savoring the warmth for a moment before speaking again. Her voice trembled as she confessed, "S-Sebby… I know there's something wrong with me."
Sebastian said nothing, waiting.
Acier bit her lip before continuing, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. "My l-love for you… if you can even call something this disgusting love… it goes beyond obsession. It's unhealthy… and I hate that!"
Her fists clenched tightly, her nails threatening to dig into her palms, but Sebastian moved quickly. His hands slid down, catching hers and holding them securely in his own. He didn't stop her from speaking, but he wasn't about to let her hurt herself.
Tears welled up in Acier's eyes as she pushed on. "Sebby, did you know? Years ago, my mother hired a curse specialist to check if you had put some sort of spell on me—something to control my thoughts and feelings, to make me worship you?"
Sebastian paused, his head resting against her neck. He shook it side to side, silently answering her.
Acier let out a weak chuckle, her voice tinged with bitterness. "I didn't tell you because I was scared of what you'd do to my mother if you found out."
Sebastian nodded against her neck, his gesture slow and deliberate. Smart choice.
Acier's voice softened as she continued staring at the ceiling. "If it means anything, my mother didn't know I knew either. She thought I'd never consent to something like that. She thought I was too 'in love' with you to let anyone cast a spell on me. So, she hired that specialist in secret."
Sebastian hummed quietly, encouraging her to go on.
"But you know what?" Acier's voice trembled, tears sliding down her cheeks.
"What?" Sebastian asked softly.
"This time, she was wrong."
Sebastian froze, his breath hitching as Acier continued.
"Even back then, when I didn't doubt your feelings for me as much, I still questioned how you could so easily get me to go along with whatever you said or did. I needed to know—had you gone so far as to hex me? Had you turned me into your puppet?"
She paused, her fists trembling slightly in his hold. "With my strength and mana sense, no black-market nobody could sneak up on me. But my mother… she didn't understand how strong I really was. I let that specialist cast his spell. I wanted to spy on them, to hear the results for myself."
"And you know the answer," Sebastian murmured against her neck.
Acier nodded, her voice cracking with emotion. "No curse. No hex. No spell. Nothing. I was, and still am, naturally infatuated with you. And that… that terrifies me. I hate myself for it more than anything."
"Why?" Sebastian's voice was calm, but he knew she wasn't done yet. There was still so much more she needed to say.
"Because I hate that you abused my mother," Acier's voice cracked, raw with anguish, "and instead of stopping you—even though I had the strength to crush you with a flick of my fingers—I told her to get lost. I kicked my own mother out of her own home!"
Sebastian's arms remained steady around her, holding her as she unloaded her guilt and pain.
"I hate that no matter how much you lashed out at our children—even when Nozel came to me, begging me to make it stop and end our relationship—I lied to his face. I told him you loved us, that you had your own struggles, and that this was just some test he had to endure to become stronger!"
Her body trembled as fresh tears fell, but she pressed on.
"I hate that I can't see myself divorcing you—unless you cross one final line and physically raise a hand against our children. Even the emotional scars you've left on them haven't been enough for me to leave!"
Her fists clenched in Sebastian's grip as her voice grew louder.
"I hate that despite Nozel being by my side for years, all it took was one silent night with you at my bedside for me to turn on him—to chide him and demand he show you respect!"
Her breathing quickened, her words spilling out faster.
"I hate that you could bring Dorothy into our lives without so much as a warning, and I couldn't even bring myself to insult you for it! I just put on a show for Nozel, acting like I cared by asking him to leave the room!"
Her voice broke as she whispered the next part.
"I hate that… I hate that even though you never once visited me as I wasted away, I couldn't bring myself to divorce you. Even when I had nothing left to lose, I clung to the thought of you. Because losing you—despite you barely even being there—felt like a fate worse than death."
Sebastian felt her shudder as her words continued.
"And then I justified it like a hypocrite to my sister, telling her it was for my children's safety—that they'd need you in their lives to shield them from the nobles after I was gone. But even then, I couldn't guarantee you'd step up! And why would they even need you? Nozel—our son—is amazing! I'm positive that even without either of us, he'd be able to protect this house and his siblings from those vultures!"
Acier let out a bitter, broken laugh as she kept speaking.
"I use my children, my sister, my mother, as excuses to stay with you. To keep you in my life. But at the end of the day, it's not about them. It's about me. It always has been, and it always will be. I'm bewitched by you. No matter what you do to me, I'll always convince myself it's my fault—or someone else's—and I hate that!"
Her body heaved with sobs as she buried her face in his chest, her voice hoarse and desperate.
"It's eating away at me! Every time I look in the mirror, I want to vomit. I want to punch myself. I'm an unworthy mother, sister, and daughter. Why am I like this?!"
She tilted her head back, screaming.
"Sebby?! What in the actual hell is wrong with me?! I need to know! You're a doctor, right? Right?! Please, tell me! Please… please… please…"
Her pleas dissolved into soft, pitiful whimpers until she suddenly stilled, frozen as Sebastian hugged her tightly from behind.
His voice was soft, steady, and honest as he whispered into her ear. "I don't know."
Those words were both a comfort and a knife. They were the truth. Sebastian's expertise lay in life sciences, not the human psyche. Mental health disorders and emotional trauma were well beyond his field, and knowing that made Acier's stomach churn.
Just as despair began to settle over her, Sebastian shifted, turning her over so they were face-to-face.
Acier's breath hitched, her tear-streaked eyes widening as he gently wiped them clean with his thumb. Then, leaning down, he kissed her forehead with a tenderness that broke through the walls she'd built around her heart.
"I don't know," he repeated, his voice firm. "But we'll figure this out. Together."
Acier's lips parted as if to argue, but all that came out was a weak nod. She slumped against his chest, her body exhausted from the storm of emotions.
"...Good night, Sebby…" she whispered, her voice faint as her eyes fluttered shut.
Sebastian stayed awake for a moment, watching her drift into the first peaceful sleep she'd had in years. Gently, he pulled the covers over them, his hand tracing soft circles on her back.
"Good night, Acier…" he murmured, closing his eyes.
Sebastian didn't know if he loved her in the way she wanted him to—yet. But he was certain of one thing: when the time came to give her an answer, it would be yes.
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