"I know," he said.

His answer took my breath away, though I had somewhat expected it. If my mother was alive, he would be the one person who knew her whereabouts.

Where else could she be, if not with him? I met his eyes and asked,

"Where is she? Where is Mother?"

I needed to know, and not just out of a simple desire to see her. I was beginning to understand that my mother was connected to everything that had happened to me. From the beast within me to the so-called Second Calamity, to the name she bore as Master of the Ten Thousand Worlds.

But most importantly, there was the Divine Sword.

The voice that spoke to me just before I released it—that was undoubtedly my mother’s. How could I forget? It haunted me, a voice that refused to fade.

She had told me to take the Divine Sword within me, and so I did. I absorbed its essence.

Perhaps, she even knew a way for me to see it again. That’s why, to understand the truth behind all of this, I had to find her.

"If you know, please tell me."

He looked at me without any reaction, which frustrated me. But as I looked more closely, I noticed something in his gaze.

‘He’s not unreactive.’

There was a faint tremor in his eyes.

I held my breath, waiting for his response. After a brief silence, he finally spoke.

"Why do you want to know?"

I couldn’t help but frown, standing before my father. Why did I want to know?

"Is it strange for a son to want to know where his mother is?"

"…"

"It’s not just curiosity. I need to know now, even if it’s too late."

I had never raised my voice to him like this. Not since my regression, and not often in my past life, either.

But this was different. Even as I approached death, my heart nearly bursting, I hadn’t known. If my mother was alive and if she had something to do with my current life, I deserved to know. Even if not, I needed to know the truth.

"If you know, then you can tell me."

Yet he remained unmoved. His silence was maddening.

"Patriarch…."

"What do you plan to do if you find out where she is?"

The question hit me, and I paused for a moment before answering.

"I’ll go to her."

"To where your mother is?"

"Yes."

I didn’t lie. It was the reason for my question, and he likely already suspected it.

"…It’s not a place you can go simply because you want to."

"Why? Because it’s the Demonic Realm?"

"…"

"If it’s not that, is it because I need to be the Young Lord first? Or…"

For the first time, I could clearly see his eyes—sharp, almost piercing.

"Is it because she’s a calamity?"

"…!"

The moment I spoke those words—

Rumble.

The heat around him intensified, nearly forcing me back, but I stood my ground. This time, I wouldn’t retreat.

In the heat radiating from him, his gaze grew sharper.

Was he scowling? Or was he angry?

I wasn’t used to seeing such expressions on him, so I couldn’t tell.

"How do you know that?"

His reaction confirmed it. He knew she was a calamity, knew who she was.

"I heard—"

Rumble.

Just as I began to speak, a heavy presence emanated from him, making my chest feel like it was sinking.

"Who told you? Who dared to speak of this?"

‘…Damn.’

His anger flared, the heat rising.

Where was this coming from? Was he angry because I heard about it?

"Isn’t the reason I heard it less important?"

"No, it’s important. So tell me."

His gaze left no room for refusal. I had no choice but to answer.

"The one called the World Tree told me."

His eyes trembled at that.

The World Tree had told me about the day he and my mother visited. That meant he knew about the World Tree.

Seeing his reaction, I knew my words struck a nerve.

"How…how did you learn that? You’ve…been there?"

He gripped my shoulder tightly.

"If you mean the World Tree’s domain, yes."

The false world where the exiled World Tree resided. I spoke, watching as his expression contorted.

Why did he look like that? Just as I wondered, he spoke.

"Is that where you crossed the wall?"

He was asking if the reason I reached the Flame Boundary so young was because of the Demonic Realm.

"There was some influence, yes."

It helped. The time I spent there shortened my path to the Flame Boundary.

But the more I spoke, the darker his expression grew.

"That’s not a place you should just go. How did you manage to get there?"

"One thing led to another."

"How long were you there?"

He seemed aware that time there flowed differently than here.

I thought back.

How long had it been?

I hadn’t counted every day. I remembered counting up to three or four years, but after that, I stopped bothering.

"Not too long."

He didn’t look like he believed me. Why did he look so troubled?

‘It would be the same once you return anyway.’

Even in that false world, hunger and thirst persisted. I simply killed beasts when I needed food, and quenched my thirst with blood when water was scarce.

As long as I didn’t die, it was fine.

I reached the Flame Boundary and carried the insights I gained back to this world. What was the problem?

I couldn’t understand his reaction.

"She said you and Mother had visited there together."

"Did she say that?"

The way he referred to the World Tree—she—felt strange.

"Yes."

"Then she spoke out of turn."

The malice in his voice made me flinch.

Despite being a former ruler of the world, he spoke as if it was nothing to threaten the World Tree.

"Is it because my mother was indeed a calamity that you won’t tell me?"

"And if she was, what would you do?"

"It wouldn’t change anything. I need to know."

His gaze bored into me. For a moment, I thought he might finally answer.

"I forbid it."

"…!"

His words made me clench my teeth.

Even after all this, he was refusing me?

"Why… I think I’ve earned the right to know."

I wondered if there was some restriction on him, but that didn’t seem likely. I had a feeling, and my instincts rarely failed.

I was about to lose my composure when he suddenly said,

"How much regret have you faced in your life?"

"Regret?"

The question caught me off guard.

Regret?

How much regret?

"A lot," I replied with a bitter laugh.

What did it matter? My life was defined by regret. I’d had more than enough, and I’d probably have even more in the future.

What was he getting at?

"As for me, I’ve lived a life with little regret."

A surprising claim. A life without regret seemed enviable.

Whether he knew my thoughts or not, he continued.

"I lived without clinging to regret. I thought it was meaningless to dwell on the past. But do you know what my remaining regrets are?"

Regrets, from him?

"I have no idea."

I answered cautiously, and he replied as if he’d been waiting.

"They are you and your mother."

"…!"

His words were like daggers, piercing my chest. I hadn’t expected that.

How could he say that to my face?

"You mean to tell me…!"

Just as I was about to lash out,

"That day, I should never have taken you to your mother."

I felt as if my breath had been cut off.

The day he spoke of—that was the day she disappeared into the Demonic Realm.

"That…"

"I shouldn’t have let her go, nor should I have brought you before her. That is my regret."

As I began to reply, a strange feeling overcame me.

"…What do you mean, by listening to her?"

So it wasn’t his decision alone?

"It was her wish to see you one last time, and I shouldn’t have granted it."

His face was obscured by shadows, cast by the moonlight.

If this was true,

"Why are you telling me this now?"

It was far too late.

I had spent my life blaming this cursed family and my father’s choices for my mother’s fate. I feared him for showing me her final moments.

As if I was destined to bear this burden and follow that path.

But now, he was telling me that wasn’t true?

"…It’s too late."

Too late for any of this to matter. Even if it was true, I had come too far to turn back.

"Why didn’t you tell me sooner? If nothing else, this one thing."

"Do you think it would have changed anything?"

I couldn’t bring myself to say yes. I knew now that it wouldn’t have.

Even so—

"Did you want me to crumble under the weight of my resentment toward you?"

That had been my life before. I fell apart, sank into filth. Could he not have known that I would collapse so completely?

I spoke with a mix of emotions, and he breathed deeply in response.

"No matter who a person is, when faced with unbearable hardships—"

He exhaled, his breath heavy.

"They will look for someone to blame."

His words unsettled me, shaking my mind.

"If you need someone to resent, isn’t it better to resent an incompetent father than an untouchable world?"

It hurt. More than I wanted to admit.

This wasn’t what I wanted to hear.

I just needed to know where she was. I didn’t need to know any of this.

"…It’s contradictory."

"I know."

"Even if you say that you did it for me, you still let me fall apart."

It was my own weakness that led me to fall, but he had done nothing to lift me back up.

"And you didn’t just expect me to resent you for that, did you?"

My emotions swirled, overwhelming me.

Where had these feelings been hiding? I thought I had moved past them, thought I was living just fine without them.

And I wondered—

If he had tried to catch me as I fell, would I have turned out differently?

It was a moot point.

If it would have made a difference, I didn’t want to know.

Because then,

"Yes."

I hoped he wouldn’t look at me with those eyes.

"That, too, is my regret."

I hoped he’d look at me as he always did, with those cold, indifferent eyes.

"It was my sin not to reach out, even knowing better."

I hoped he wouldn’t look at me with such a bitter expression.

"I’m sorry."

"…"

"Which is why I can’t let you go to her. One regret is enough."

I hadn’t expected an apology, and that broke something deep within me.

If only he had made excuses, told me he was too busy to care. But he hadn’t.

So, I covered my face with trembling hands. Not because I was crying.

But because I couldn’t look at him.

It would have been easier if he hadn’t apologized.

How did things end up like this?

‘…Ah.’

I should never have received such an apology from him.

Even if I feared and resented him, he should never have apologized to me.

Maybe I expected this because he was my father?

No.

That wasn’t it. It was something more fundamental.

At the very least, just this once—

He shouldn’t have apologized to the son who had killed him.

Like that winter night when he sent my mother away, memories I couldn’t forget came flooding back.

Well done.

His praise for reaching the Flame Boundary and the last words he spoke to me overlapped.

Yes, his last words.

After my mother’s departure, he was the only one to injure Cheonma.

Shortly after, he passed away.

The world assumed Cheonma had killed him.

But that wasn’t true.

It wasn’t Cheonma who killed him.

It was me.