“Is this the child?”

A low, calm question was heard, and I groggily awoke from my sleep.

As soon as I parted ways with the deputy head and boarded the carriage, the tension suddenly released.

I had fallen asleep deeply, trusting only in my father’s promise to wake me up when we arrived at the Great Hall…

But as I had expected, it seemed my father hadn’t even attempted to wake me.

My father was walking down a beautiful white corridor, holding me in his arms. A priest, who appeared to be our guide, walked ahead at a slight distance.

And then, there was a man walking half a step behind my father, at a position where our eyes met.

“Ah, Constantine. Lucy has just woken up.”

“Go away.”

Though my father’s response was more indifferent and ruder than ever, the man began introducing himself with ease.

“It’s our first meeting, Lucy. I am Vasily Eclasio Jordan. You may call me Eclasio.”

The man’s voice was rich in tone, his accent refined yet languid, making even simple words sound profound.

As he looked at me with a slow and deep smile, he asked.

“May I call you Lucy, Lucy?”

Even though he was already calling me that?

His ash-gray hair and blue eyes suited this place perfectly—Astariol.

Though it seemed he was waiting for my response… I glanced at my father first. Having just woken up, I couldn’t fully grasp the situation.

Dad stopped abruptly in the middle of the long corridor and turned around with an irritated expression.

His cold, sharp eyes met Yorbonne’s calm, blue gaze. The thin smile in his eyes was elegant, and his red-tinged lips were smooth.

“Do you have something to say?”

“It seems you’ve developed a new hobby of receiving poor treatment, but I have no interest in humoring it. So just leave.”

… every time, I wondered why he always spoke like this.

‘This time, it seems worse than usual.’

After my father turned away, the priest, who had stopped with him, coughed awkwardly but didn’t say anything.

Lord Yorbonne, the actual target of my father’s words, merely shrugged his shoulders.

“Lucy doesn’t resemble Constantine much. That’s fortunate.”

Of course, though his tone was gentle and kind, the content of his words was just as sarcastic.

“It’s unfortunate, but it seems your eyesight has worsened at a young age. When your body is weak, that happens. Go inside and rest.”

Dad’s response was indifferent and cold. His gaze was also utterly dispassionate, as if looking down at a bothersome child.

Well, Lord Yorbonne was twenty years old now.

He only turned nineteen last year, which was the legal age of adulthood here. So, my father must have known him since he was much younger.

However, even a real child would be offended if treated openly like one. How much more so for an adult Astariol with a clear mind?

This time, Lord Yorbonne couldn’t hide his displeasure.

‘No, it’s not that he couldn’t hide it. He simply didn’t bother.’

The man, whose languid expression couldn’t conceal his distinctive appearance, looked even more fitting with his frown and annoyed look.

In a disapproving tone, he asked.

“Do you know what Illian and Cardinal Cardemort have been discussing?”

“Is that the main point?”

“What else would it be?”

Dad sighed slightly and began speaking as if giving a lesson.

“If there’s a main point, say it and leave. If not, avoid meeting. Is that so hard?”

… if this man weren’t an Astariol or the Duke of Chelsiers, he would’ve likely gotten into five arguments and grabbed by the collar seven times before taking three steps.

The priest, who had barely managed to suppress his coughing, started again.

But instead of wasting his energy on pointless arguments, Lord Yorbonne quickly got to the matter at hand.

“Illian says it’s time for me to be betrothed. Though technically, it’s an engagement.”

“Do it.”

“… is that all you have to say?”

“I found marriage better than engagement. Congratulations in advance. I won’t be attending the engagement or the wedding, so don’t bother inviting me.”

As he said that, my father turned back around.

He shot a glance at the priest, who had turned pale with indecision, silently signaling him to guide us.

“… uh, Constantine. Hold on a moment. Do you not know who Illian is considering as the most likely candidate for my engagement?”

“How would I know? I’m not interested in you.”

“That’s right. It’s your second daughter.”

The moment of silence.

My father’s arms, which had been tightly holding me to the point where I could barely breathe, slowly loosened.

“… gasp.”

I quickly gasped for air, and a soft, low voice came from above his head.

“Oh, dear. Sorry, Claire.”

His voice sounded like he wasn’t entirely sane.

Dad turned around with an unnerving smoothness and once again faced Lord Yorbonne.

His steps were precise, like measured lines. Quiet and unsettling.

As if he intended to kill him right there on the spot, regardless of who was watching.

Lord Yorbonne remained admirably calm. He spoke leisurely but with certainty.

“I’m on the opposing side. The child is too young, which is why I’m telling you in advance, Constantine.”

“If I kill you here, wouldn’t that eliminate the possibility altogether? I don’t even like that you’re bringing this up.”

“Such admirable love.”

His blue eyes blinked once.

Even though the person in front of him clearly harbored murderous intent, his expression remained monotonous and peaceful.

“How did it come to this?”

It was a straightforward, yet disturbingly unnatural question.

His gaze was fixed on me as I urgently shook my head, pleading for him to stop speaking.

“Did your Tara make you this way? You weren’t like this before.”

“Is that what matters right now?”

“It is, Constantine.”

Had I not been in his arms, Dad would have already done something to Duke Jordan.

The man in front of me was aware of that too.

But even with me knowing, I couldn’t keep him quiet, so the man continued with innocent and insensitive words.

“Sometimes I even understand why Illian believes you should never meet Tara, even if it means killing her.”

… it was over. There was no stopping him now.

I froze in my father’s arms. Lord Yorbonne remained calm and serene.

No, that wasn’t serenity; it was indifference.

The ability to remain completely unaffected by what happened to oneself or by the consequences of one’s words or actions…

That wasn’t calm; it was beyond that.

The demigod with blue eyes whispered with childlike innocence.

“I know you well from before you met Tara. But after meeting her, I don’t know you at all. Tara isn’t evil, but I’m not sure if she’s someone worth risking the smooth course of your life for.”

“……”

“Why, Constantine?”

I observed my father’s expression, trembling slightly.

But unexpectedly… what surfaced on his face wasn’t a determination to kill.

It was nothing but a deep, lingering weariness.

The loneliness of someone who knew a single truth that everyone else blindly believed to be false.

Dad, rarely showing such a compassionate light, asked back.

“Do you really think a life that’s planned out before birth—a life where you marry when the time comes, bear children to continue the line, and follow a predetermined path—is truly smooth?”

Lord Yorbonne blinked and tilted his head.

“What else could it be? That’s how everyone lives, Constantine. Even if it’s not Astariol, that’s how everyone is.”

Dad laughed.

Like the wind brushing through a field of reeds, the sound was brief and dry, scattering into nothing.

A sneer that said, “You wouldn’t understand even if I told you.”

And Astariol did not waste time or energy on useless matters.

Dad spoke with a businesslike tone, as if there had never been any threat or argument.

“Understood. I appreciate the warning in advance, but I’d be even more grateful if you could marry a noble lady of another esteemed family soon and put an end to the controversy.”

Then, without waiting for a response, his violet gaze briefly glanced at the priest before returning to me.

It was only then that warmth spread through his eyes, softening and brightening with light.

“Claire.”

I responded a little late.

“Yes.”

Though he had called out to me first, Dad said nothing after that.

But instead of pushing him for more words, I gently leaned my head on his shoulder and embraced him.

Because he hadn’t called me to speak.

Sometimes… even when someone knew they were right, they just needed someone to support and stay with them in that rightness, didn’t they?

I understood why my father said what he did.

I also knew that love for another could be a storm powerful enough to upend one’s entire life.

People might consider Dad a God who descended to earth, but I knew that to him, Mom was his God, his salvation, and his end.

And Dad knew that I understood that very well, too.

Although a young and lacking daughter couldn’t possibly have provided him with proper comfort, my father embraced me as if I were a miracle bestowed by the God.

And quickly left behind Lord Yorbonne and his guide.

Since Dad would never lose his way in the Great Hall, I simply nestled quietly in his arms without showing fear and spoke softly.

“… Dad, you can go.”

His steps briefly faltered. I repeated more firmly.

“This is the Great Hall, and I am Astariol. I’ll be fine alone.”

Dad didn’t have time to worry over me while he rushed off to confront Duke Sisana and Cardinal Cardemort.

There was no need for him to fret over not having anyone trustworthy to leave me with.

But he shook his head.

“Still, I can’t leave you alone.”

And so… Fermata.

The familiar spirit, who would rather fly freely than be cooped up in a carriage, suddenly cast a shadow as it surged.

At last, Dad set me down on the ground and placed Fermata into my arms.

As we walked hurriedly, we arrived in front of an old building that had been expanded and remodeled many times over.

“This is the central library of the Great Hall. You can go anywhere here, so just stay with Fermata and wait comfortably.”