On the way home, Eciel passionately explained Lucrezia’s rudeness to our mother.

“She spoke to Claire in a strange way!”

… hmm, if Eciel wasn’t there, both she and I would have been the same.

For this reason, I didn’t point out Lucrezia’s unsociable behavior out of conscience.

Mom didn’t entirely agree with Eciel either.

She just let her vent enough to feel satisfied.

And as soon as she calmed down, my sister quickly fell asleep. Sometimes, it took a lot of energy to be angry.

The sound of the sleeping child’s breathing, soft and gentle like the down of a young bird, filled the carriage.

I only spoke after the comfortable and warm atmosphere completely enveloped the carriage.

“Mom.”

My mother, who was quietly looking down at my sleeping sister, looked up.

“… how do you become a Tara?”

Her bright green eyes deepened for a moment.

“Did you also think he seemed like a Tara to you?”

Eciel mostly denounced Lucrezia’s rude attitude.

However, to talk about her bizarre and unreasonable behavior, Artair naturally could not be left out.

Our mother loved Eciel enough to focus on her lengthy speech.

But she also had the discernment to extract the necessary information from her words.

I bowed my head at my mother’s careful question.

“… I don’t know.”

Mom didn’t say it wasn’t the case.

She just whispered quietly.

“People who are favorable to Tara say that Tara is <one who does not give up>.”

Mom’s hand briefly brushed my sister’s cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear.

It was a kind and gentle gesture.

“Someone who does not give up being human, even if their soul is shattered by unbearable trials.”

I blinked and asked cautiously.

“Then, what about those who are not favorable?”

You had to hear both extremes of the story.

Mom laughed playfully.

“Of course, they say he’s a demon.”

“…”

“A disaster that Astariol doesn’t need at all.”

When I pressed my lips together and shook my head, a weak laugh blossomed from my mother like spring flowers.

Her calm and serene voice followed like a sweet fragrance.

“Anyway, according to those favorable to Tara… Astariol is a broken piece of God, born with a naturally broken and fragmented soul.”

Mom’s gaze fell deeply, as soft and gentle as if falling asleep.

“So, when they see someone who hasn’t fallen despite having a broken and lacking soul like themselves, they are inevitably drawn to them.”

I blinked several times and mumbled in a hushed voice.

“Mom, do you think so too?”

Her answer was a clear denial.

“No.”

“…”

“I gave up.”

A faint smile appeared on Mom’s face before I knew it.

Her green eyes curved gently.

“Even if I don’t think I’m a demon, I can’t say I didn’t give up being human.”

I remained silent.

What must one not give up on to remain human?

Ethics, conscience, goodness, discipline, justice…

Countless standards and conditions scattered in my head, none was easy to choose or exclude.

Mom whispered in a light and cool voice, as if she knew my complicated thoughts.

“Sorry for asking, Claire. I don’t know how to become a Tara or why Astariol meets Tara.”

“… then, what about Dad?”

I mustered up the courage to ask.

Did Dad believe in the claim favorable to Tara? Did Dad also think Mom gave up?

Mom’s answer, after a slight pause, was very… regretful.

“That person always had a different opinion from me.”

It was an undeniable fact, so I kept my mouth shut.

“When I say that I’m not Tara, he insists that he knows better and that he’s right just because he’s Astariol. He says I kept my humanity and didn’t give up in the face of trials.”

“…”

“Honestly…”

The next words were swallowed by Mom’s mouth, barely audible.

It was probably something like he was not sane, or you couldn’t live your life like that.

However, the white hand stroking my sister’s back unconsciously slowed down.

Her bright green eyes, clear and sharp, wandered somewhere far away.

Mom muttered blankly as if talking to herself.

“In truth, it’s him who never gave up.”

“…”

“I gave up before I lost my magic, and I gave up again after losing it, and in the end, I even ran away… why didn’t Ashel?”

“… because Dad was right.”

I knew she wasn’t expecting an answer.

But I mustered the courage to reply.

Her green eyes, momentarily regaining focus, looked at me blankly.

The question I always had in my daily life poured out like a sudden summer shower, shining brilliantly.

‘Ah, right. Sometimes, people don’t give up even when they know it’s the right thing to do.’

Because they were human.

And Astariol was human too. A person who got hurt, cried, loved, and suffered.

Even Astariol could give up.

Just that Dad didn’t.

Mom silently unfolded her moist lips instead of voicing those words.

“I always found it strange, Claire.”

“… in what way?”

“When everyone else says no, wouldn’t anyone think they’re wrong if they were the only one saying something different?”

Of course, most people feel that way.

The feeling of being the only one different was as scary and painful as being shipwrecked in the vast sea.

Mom’s voice also slipped slowly and despondently like a castaway’s view.

“In fact, it’s more reasonable to think that someone who’s certain about something they’ve never seen before is wrong, isn’t it?”

In the span of about a hundred years, from grandfather to son to grandson.

Dad was the only Astariol in nearly a hundred years to meet Tara.

He wouldn’t have seen anyone like him meeting a Tara before, and he wouldn’t have wished to meet one either.

But Dad was certain.

And he was right.

More precisely… he was the only one right.

For over a decade, he didn’t doubt, change, or give up.

Ordinary people find it hard to do that.

Mom knew this better than anyone, so her light and calm tone piled up like leaves, unable to resist the overwhelming flow.

“Anyway, yes. You’re right. Ashel was right. At least about Tara, he knows best, so why don’t you ask him too?”

“Won’t Dad… just say no?”

“Why do you think that?”

“Dad said he knew you were a Tara the moment he saw you. I still don’t know at all.”

A vague expression spread across Mom’s face.

The look of hesitating and suppressing something rising to the chin. I stared at Mom and spoke up.

“Can’t you tell me?”

“…”

“I want to know.”

Mom hesitated a bit and then gently unraveled the words she had wrapped up.

“Claire, your father believes Tara is someone who didn’t give up during trials.”

She told me that earlier.

I just stared blankly at Mom. If it were Evan, he might have expected a more groundbreaking reaction.

But his cousin didn’t have such a bad habit, so Mom readily explained further.

“So… Astariol is naturally born that way, but he believes Tara becomes Tara <after birth>.”

After birth. Acquiring it.

As I chewed over the words, a cold, clear understanding spread from my tongue.

The taste was like the delicate crystal of snowflakes.

Mom whispered kindly and clearly.

“That child is still young. He has countless days ahead, and he will face countless trials.”

“…”

“Claire, I wish that child’s life to be smooth… but in a person’s lifetime, hardships come very easily.”

“…”

“And, that child is already shaking you.”

People generally broke under unbearable trials.

It was not their fault.

Pain eroded a person’s will and stained it with despair.

But some people didn’t break.

Even if they despaired and were shattered, they gathered their broken pieces and waited for the next.

If Artair was such a person, and if the hardships he would face were sufficient…

‘… ah.’

I caught my breath.

What was I just thinking? To imagine a life with <sufficient> unbearable hardships, even as a joke?

My body trembled.

Seeing this, Mom’s eyes lowered like clouds full of tears, wrapping around me.

“No one knows for sure, Claire. I just mean… Ashel believes that.”

The hand that had been gently patting my sleeping sister quickly turned to me.

Incoherent and disjointed words poured out like a snowstorm to comfort her young daughter. Then, a single sentence struck my ears precisely.

“Ashel might have just wanted to create a reason because he wouldn’t have looked at me if I wasn’t his Tara.”

I unconsciously looked up at Mom and rebutted.

“But Dad… Dad wanted to go back to the time when you were in the Magic Tower…”

The Magic Tower.

The most glorious and brilliant period of Mom’s life.

If Dad truly believed that… wouldn’t the probability of Mom being Tara be lower than the probability of her not being Tara if we went back to that time?

For the first time, Mom’s green eyes wavered.

The calm and everyday tone in which Dad confessed his immense love.

– If only I could turn back time, I’d want to go back to then.

Dad admitted his love was so immense that even if all the hardships <Charlotte Yerim> had gone through would disappear, making his <Tara> no longer exist.

So, the pain and love would disappear, and she would fall to a completely separate existence.

Even so, he loved her enough to wish for the woman to be flawless and brilliant.